The most curtain was red, simple and probobly stripped off someone's bed a few weeks ago. You could see light and silouettes of the instruments outlined against it, tinted with a crimsion halo while the screaming and shouting ignored the boundry entirely, making you heady. The most delicate part of it was the hem, folded over and stitched oh so small with a machine that I'd seen as a child but not since then, but it wasn't as if the thought brought on pain. I left home on good terms, my brothers and I, it had always been good terms. Rough terms, sometimes, but overall things went over well. I intertwined my claws on the red edge, twisting the blood coloured fabric into my tattooed hands. Backing ears, fluttering furred wings, feeling the spaces between my growth-bones trembling with the bass vibration of crowd voices. Feeling my heart moving in a cool pattern inside, tucked under the white robe I was wearing. It felt so strange to have it on me...white against white. Albanism didn't run in my family but fortunately nobody in our species was stupid. It made me worry though...the colours up my arms and along my wings made me feel as though the red triangles on the edges of the gown were only leading to the illusion that I was...in front of all of them...Standing without...

I felt the strain on my eyesockets shatter I rolled my gaze forward again, a claw clapping against my shoulder. I glanced over my shoulder and smiled faintly, claws coming away from the red curtain. The grinning idiot in front of me happened to be my younger brother, done up in faux armor with a junk sword strapped on his back. I didn't have a chance to open my mouth before he pulled on a stoic mask and nodded past me. "Rough crowd?"

Shaking my head, I felt the feathery weight of newly-dyed hair on my forehead. I dyed it brown...it helped to be at least a little less conspicous. Long and fluffed by its special treatment, the hair bounced between my wings. "Ah, I we'll be okay. They're not dangerous."

A repetative clicking sound played accompanyment to the screaming crowd as my brother folded his shoulders, fingers, wings, neck, legs together and stretched straight again, a full foot taller. "Not if you're tall anywa-"

I started punching him in the stomach, tridactyl claws folded into a fist of tattooed fire. Blue, orange and yellow. My brother made squeaks and cries of surrender but I didn't stop. Ahh, the love of siblings can't compare.

We were Mites, my brothers and I. Our family too, obviously. The race was old but mostly uncivilized on its home planet, focusing on warfare economy to keep upright. We were mammals, evolved in dark mountains where having fur rather than feathers is an advantage, I guess. The growth-bones, the ones my brother had used to 'grow', were part of our natural bodies as well. Mite bones aren't like most anthrapoid skeletons. Instead, each bone breaks down into three copies of itself, lined up alongside and able to snap together and stretch out the body when the obscenely complicated muscles went into effect. Bones grew in over a lifetime, but the usual height was two stacked on one another. A little shorter than a Human, but taller than an Andoian.

My brother, the showoff, had three sets already whereas I was still growing my third. It was stiff to switch and there wasn't much point to looking so lanky either. He just liked to do it to show off how much taller he was, even though he was younger. Punk. I punched him more.

"Augh stop the beating!"

"Two minutes to go," my heart did a jumping jack and I stopped punching to catch it as a shadow started talking. My younger brother, through a chorus of clicks, shrank to his normal size and fell silent likewise. From the shadows stepped our oldest brother, the leader of our band, and our idol. From the shadows stepped Chrisodeo, the Mite behind the magic. A sleeveless blue cloak draped his dark body professionally, a tilted hat flopping lifelessly atop his head. Chrisodeo was my hero. It was a shock that he'd thought my costume idea for this show was a good one...It was always mind numbingly awesome when he thought anything my younger brother or I did was praiseworthy. Twisting his claws together in an interlock and cracking his knuckles lightly, he gazed at us. My brothers' fur was naturally a light brown but Chrisodeo had dyed every inch of his body midnight dark. Eyes hidden under the flopped hat, every inch black magic. "Let's begin," He said simply.

My younger brother nodded, I followed suit. Turning and entwining my claws in the red again, I closed my eyes and listened to my heartbeat. At our backs, Chrisodeo intoned stoicly "We'll do fine."

The curtain was thrown away with such a florish I wondered if I'd even touched the fabric or if it'd pulled of its own accord. The little club we were playing in went wild. My younger brother strode across the stage and looped the strap of his guitar over his shoulder, careful of the junk sword clanking on the plastic armor. I folded my thumbclaws down and gave dual peace signs, grinning and crossing the tiny stage to the drumset, settling in coolly behind and adjusting the microphone to my height. Chrisodeo, our leader, slipped into the base like a second skin and skillfully pulled the microphone free, never once showing his face or eyes to the crowd. There was a moment of pure silence as we settled, my younger brother breaking it only by twisting the wires on the guitar and plucking a string...tuning.

Silence...

"Hello," Chrisodeo said simply into the microphone. The packed club screamed at the top of its collective lungs. Chrisodeo seemed to flinch back but it was show, they knew this and so did we. He never flinched, and his tone never waivered. "Jesus christ, fucking enthusiastic here." No emotion. More screaming. I could feel the adreniline flushing my entire body, the tips of my flame-tattooed wings quivering. I'd start shedding if we sat here any longer. Chrisodeo went on. "I'd like you all to meet, on guitar, a fine fellow and the Fighter of the party," Still stoic. Chrisodeo could command an audiance without even trying. "Probobly the most easily slaughtered warrior too." He leaned forward, the joints in his wings tensing and raising up from his shoulderblades, Chrisodeo's voice dropping two tones lower. "Alix."

The air exploded in applause for my younger brother. Instead of a grin or bow or anything so dramatic, Alix played a minute guitar fanfare for himself. It didn't matter to the crowd that that was all they were getting for the time being, they screamed and beat their fists on the front of the stage, walls and eachother. Chrisodeo only had to move the microphone away from his face for them to silence, the entire room dropping into tomb like reverance. My older brother was a god.

Holding a claw upwards, the black mage crooked it back towards me, perched like a hawk behind the drumset with my wings folded against one another at my back. The tips of my claws tingled, numb as the whole room diverted attention towards me. It made me feel uneasy, being stared at this way. I couldn't show it though. Had to keep cool on stage. Chrisodeo's smooth monotone commanded they listen. "In the back row on drums, we have our white mage," People whistled and started screaming my name. I felt lightheaded. "However," Chrisodeo's tone went lower again as he glared at them from under the brim of his hat. "She is far from weak or defenseless." He looked at me over his shoulder, a dark eye peircing through the shadows of the hat, an unspoken signal. "White mage?"

I responded best I could, splitting the semi-silence with the opening drum solo of our first song, Bionic Seizure. Alix picked up rapidly and Chrisodeo stepped aside, replacing the microphone on its stand amidst the shouting of the crowd. Still speaking to them, he began to fill in the bass rythem of the song without so much as checking himself. The crowd roared low as Chrisodeo bent his head before the microphone and spoke quietly. "And I, on bass guitar, am the darkness in the light. Unfazed, uncaring, unimpressed with your screaming," The people in the club raised their voices so high at his comments that I thought my ears would bleed, and backed them against my skull. "I am the black mage, Chrisodeo, and this..." He paused for Alix to break away from the beat for the next part of the song's opening. When the guitar notes evened out, he spoke in confidential tones and stepped away. "Is the Chosen Party."

The dark belief that I had under my
fingertips and a world and power in command
It was only half pretending
When you said that you don't understand

Don't understand this
Please step back you're breaking my streak
I must demand this
For this world at my command is so entrancing
that it's keeping me from sleep

I hardly listened when you shut the door
Stood on the landing waiting for my Sorry Babys
But I never stepped outside
This world is more entrancing maybe you

Can't understand this
Won't understand what I control
And don't demand that I
Must abandon this life for a life that's so unfull

unfull...

I quieted my rapid beating, slowing, tapping only slightly against the pedals at my feet and one hand following the notes against the plastic skin of the smaller drums. Chris stepped back from the microphone and let Alix strain the nearly junk guitar into crying, the sounds reverbrating through the little club with mournful certainty. Alix's solo broke free like it'd been living inside him for months and relished in its freedom, rolling and leaping and quietly running away into silence. I leaned forward to my microphone, picking up the lyrics where Chrisodeo had left off.

This is my world
My internal prisons released on
perminant leave and
you won't believe that
Nothing could matter
As much as you mattered I-

Attacking the drums with both hands the song ripped back to full force as Chrisodeo and Alix both moved for the mics at the same moment. Group finish.

Wish you would understand you're
Just a distraction getting in my way
You're not as important
As saving my life and saving the day

Don't try to understand this!
It's nothing you'll ever understand
Don't demand this
For the world is so much more entrancing
than useless nights romancing
It's a dream and it's so entrancing

It's keeping me from
keeping me from
keeping me from you

Alix's claws moved so quickly against the strings of the guitar they were a blur, I felt sweat trickling between my shoulderblades and down my face as I threw myself at the drums with such a fury I didn't know if I was even in control. Through the strands of my hair gone wild I could see Chrisodeo signing the last word through our music. Abruptly we stopped our violent relationships withour instruments and resumed a less aggrivating version of the music that made up the chorus of the song. Last verse. Make it good.

Don't try to understand
Please step back before you break my streak
I must demand this
For this world within is so entrancing...

That it's keeping me from sleep.

The crowd screamed.

Hekshano, Damuraii, North Tek. I leaned out over the bridge that ran above the city's Main Street and watched the aliens moving in cars and on foot under the spotted guidance of streetlamps. The climate was cool, brushing past me lightly and tugging at my hair. It was late, maybe early morning hours but I was a night person by instinct in any case. The clear sky above blinked down strange constilations at me and I wondered if my home system could even be seen from here. I'd ask Alix, my younger brother, but he'd probobly tell me it was the big one and pretend I was an idiot for not knowing which one he was talking about. The truth was that so few people could see their homes from foreign planets it didn't matter. It wasn't something to be sad about either. Hekshano was a nice planet, if not a bit less craggy than home. From space it looked like a dust bunny with spots of green where the sparce forests still persisted. Two oceans, rows of mountain ranges striking along the continents. Mostly it was arid savannah though. Like the Human homeworld sucked dry.

From here it was any other city, any other town. Wherever you went they were basicly the same. I crossed my didactyl footclaws behind me and spit over the bridge. The concert went well, we were mobbed by the underground fans as soon as we left stage. Maybe in a better time we would have made it big, but under Rulerism it was hard for a Xeno-run band to be anything but underground. Not that there were lacks of gigs or fans or anything. It just would have been kind of nice to be on the main radio stations, even if they did only play crud. Ah well. The little club overheated fast but we managed. The night was warm and as soon as we got offstage we shed our costumes and darted into the crowd, wanting to be just normal people again. Alix and I fought over the junk sword for a good long time before the manager broke it up between us...He had it now, was probobly carrying it around town. But this was my spot, and my time. The light wind ruffled the fur on my wings.

So they said there was a war starting on a few places far off. That was stupid...You'd think after so many years of evolution there'd be more sense to people than that. It wasn't a war between Mites this time either, it'd started far off with the Humans. Rulerism was a religion and a government in one, two things that shouldn't be mixed. They left a lot up to planet-specific governments but if they'd started a war there wasn't much telling to how far it could go. Humans were so common you found them everywhere. Mites traveled often but weren't as diverse at adapting. Still...I watched a Human pass under the bridge with a Hekshanian on each arm, all three of them talking in hushed voices. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear what they were talking about either. Most aliens on the whole were friendly with quirks, and one of the Hekshanians quirks was immorality. But they were good people besides that. I hoped that the war out wherever it was wouldn't come here, they were harmless enough that it seemed pointless. Even moreso pointless than starting a war in the first place.

I scratched absently at my arms, even though they didn't itch. The flames which ran upwards from my feet and hands also covered my wings, blue orange and yellow flat out against white. It wasn't dye though. On the second week of preforming, I'd had my skin tattooed in the same design. It was a trick some people used on their pets, to tattoo under the fur and let it grow in. Once it grew, it grew in colours. The itching and bleeding had lasted a long time but had been worth it. I wasn't just a colourless white Mite anymore. Even better, it met with Chrisodeo's solum approval.

My brother was my hero, and I didn't have many. When Alix and I were younger he would torture us but we always came right back for more. He taught us to take pain, to stand up for what we wanted, to do what we wanted. I envyed my younger brother, who would always be closer to him at the very least in terms of gender. Chrisodeo hadn't known how much we looked up to him until we started the band. I was a gamer, I had been since as long as I could hold controllers or type at a computer. Chrisodeo had taught me everything, even if he didn't know it. Alix was the same way. It was sometimes mind boggling to think that it was so obvious how much we'd looked up to him, and he never knew it. I didn't want to become him...but he had been the figurehead of my youth.

A whistle from the street under the bridge brought me out of my internal world. Pushing on my stomach over the railing, I lifted my feet and balanced, trying to glimpse underneith. I could feel the tips of my bangs bending in the gust that followed, the brush of furred wings nearly slapping the sides of my face as Alix shot upwards past me and landed on the railing of the bridge, claws locked on the edge like some sort of mythical animal. I smiled and turned towards him, leaning back against the railing. "Gee, that wasn't overly dramatic at all."

"Well you know," Alix started in his serious tone that was reserved for talking about anything that wasn't serious at all. "I was just walking along minding my own buisness when this car suddenly decides to hit me. Naturally I tried to talk it out, but it must have been in the middle of a bad relationship or something. When I tried to go in depth it didn't want to talk about it and turned around to try to kill me. Normally I'd have just knocked it silly right there but-"

"Alix," I tried not to laugh, but my brother had a talent for making me do exactly that even if I didn't want to. He let go of the railing and stepped onto the bridge, stretching nimbly and giving his wings a quick ruffle before folding them at his back. After the show, we'd all changed to less flashy cloths. Alix was in his usual everyday outfit, baggy pants and a teeshirt. One of these days I was going to find a way to get us to a ice ball of a planet for a gig. Then he'd have to dress differently. Muahaha. Across his back in the same makeshift sheith was the junk sword we'd used on stage and fought over afterwards. Before Alix could start talking again, I lunged towards him and grabbed hold of its hilt, trying to pull the sword free.

The plan didn't go as smoothly as I'd expected it to. Alix's claws blocked me before I got a grip and knocked the fight over the sword down to the typical fights we had. Between kicking and punching one another and shouting insults, neither of us noticed when Chrisodeo, walking shadow, appeared from nigh nowhere and took hold of the sword at Alix's back, standing back and watching us battle it out over an item we didn't have anymore. Chrisodeo's eyes were hidden again, but this time it was behind a pair of dark sunglasses he wore even in the dead of night. In fact, Chrisodeo wore all black. People might have called him a stereotypical goth if he wouldn't beat them unconcious for it. My older brother wasn't a goth, even if he did wear a black trenchcoat, pants and shirt. My brother was just plain cool.

Kneeing me in the stomach, Alix finally succeeded in knocking us apart. Ow...at least my older brother was anyway. Chrisodeo's expression was, as normal, unreadable when he shook his head and spoke, the hilt of the sword dangling meaninglessly from between two of his claws. "This thing is causing a lot of trouble." We opened our mouths to blame the other and start fighting again, but Chrisodeo cut us off speaking quietly again. "So I'll decide who it belongs to. Is that fucking simple enough?" Even though he had cursed at us, it didn't mean he was angry. Chrisodeo could work swear words into every sentance as non chalantly as anyone else could work in 'cool.' Alix and I fell quiet, though, waiting to see how this was going to be explained. Unfortunately Chrisodeo wasn't one for ceremony or explanation. Walking soothly towards us, he pressed the sword towards me and glanced over the top of his dark glasses. "Here."

I took the sword by the rusted blade, something that couldn't hurt you even if you tried. A wave ran over my fur and the tips of my wings shivered as Chrisodeo let go. It felt like the sword was more than just a scratched rusted peice of junk, at least to me. I hadn't been able to hold it yet..this was my first chance. The best way I could have thought to describe the junky weapon was 'having soul.' Whispering thanks would have been stupid and cliche, and I would have been poked fun at for it. A sword wasn't anything special now, even less so than it was five hundred years ago. They were obscure and mostly useless, just big dangerous toys. That didn't matter though, I liked it, it mattered to me. I'd figure out how to use it, and I'd fix it up too. I nodded to my older brother and grinned, turning almost in the same microsecond to wave it in Alix's face and cackle triumpantly.

"Nahaha! Mine nooow." I held the sword in both hands above my head and ran around Chrisodeo, away from Alix, down the bridge. Behind, Alix's footclaws clicked in pursuit as he shouted after me. Good luck, the sword was mine mine mine now. Take that. Just holding it above my head made it feel like a column of cool was wrapping down around me and lifting me above it all. I was impervious holding the sword. Nothing would dare come after me.

Rounding another corner under the bridge, I was only half shocked when Chrisodeo was there again, reclining against the stone wall and speaking only as I passed. I padded to a stop and turned, lowering the sword and facing my older brother. From under sunglasses and black bangs, Chrisodeo addressed me.

"You'll take good care of that, right?"

I nodded firmly and rested the flat of the blade on my shoulder.

"Good. You might need it sometime." Pushing away from the wall, Chrisodeo began to walk past me, his claws delved cooly into his pockets. I started to follow, the sword still reclining against my shoulder.

"Hey...Chrisodeo...Can I ask you something?" My voice came out small to myself, hopefully not to him. From the corner of his sunglasses, a dark eye rolled to regard me as we strode through the lamplit streets. I continued, haltingly, trying not to sound stupid... "I'm just kind of curious but...uhm...You gave the sword to me instead of Alix...uhm...I just wanted to know why, if there's any reason..."

With a slow confidant shrug of his black clad shoulders, Chrisodeo flicked his ears and wings in synce and spoke. "It felt like it should have been for you."

I wanted to ask for a further explanation, but instead stopped in my tracks as my older brother walked away. Sliding the sword down from my shoulder I held it lengthwise lightly in my claws and stared at its chipped, rusted blade. For some reason, Chrisodeo's feeling seemed to be explanation enough. With my thumbclaw, I scratched at the rust a moment until it chipped away into a silver sheened surface. A flicker crossed my face as I stopped scratching, blinking and staring at the silver reflection.

Had I been imagining, imposing something onto the sword? Or had something passed by under that surface, white and agile and serpentine?

Shouldering the blade again, I glanced over my shoulder for signs of Alix and then ahead for those of Chrisodeo. On the cracked Hekshanian sidewalk this night, I was alone, and began to head for what was at least temporarily home. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone walked with me.