Spaced Out

Olivyne had been born the wrong species.

The average wingspan of an adult Serpenth measured to be about eight feet. The average weight: 172 pounds. The current worldwide record for largest Serpenth wingspan was 12 feet. In contrast, Olivyne's wingspan stretched as far as she could see them from the edges of her peripheral vision. Average. She also broke a small tree from jumping off a small cliff in her flight experiment once.

In short, Olivyne had been born the wrong species.

Unlike her cousin–who'd, thankfully, been adopted by someone else–Olivyne abandoned her flight experiments as soon as her head knocked against the ground. She needed a different solution for her problem: how could she fly?

Today, again, she slipped out of her owner's room.

They came to Ziara, to prepare for the upcoming Masquerade at the end of the month. Her owner had been commissioned by the city's committee to paint a grand mural inside the ballroom. They arrived three weeks early, so that he could walk among Ziara's culture. Olivyne had no interest in following after him, however. She and her owner had long came to an understanding that, so long as she returned before their departure, she could leave as she wanted. For the first two days, she wandered the city. On the third day, she met a Steamwork Lain.

The Lain sat on a sign near Full Steam Ahead–a store, she understood, that turned flesh into metal. The idea sounded awful to her. Why would she ever want to get rid of her silky mane and downy feathers? That said, she may be tempted if it meant she could fly...

Belly low to the ground, skimming under benches, and between walking boots–she lunched at the Lain. It startled. It leapt a foot into the air–the sounds of gears churning–and glided for about two feet, before landing. It repeated the same pathetic process twice when she chased after it.

She understood, while watching it struggle, that it couldn't fly. Perhaps its metallic body weighed too much for it to achieve flight. Or perhaps it'd been built to be more of a pretty singing trinket. In any case, wings made of metal didn't work. At least, not anything smaller than a plane she'd guess. She couldn't say the results of her little game disappointed her too much. Olivyne took pride in her appearance. She'd be remiss to throw it all away to look like cobbled-together scrap.

So for today, she'll go outside the city's bubble.

Hundreds walked the bridge connecting to the city's gate, dressed in all kinds of odd wear and trinkets she'd never seen on Subeta. Olivyne kept to the edge of the tube, over the vents blowing warm air over her scales. She nipped at heels that wandered too close, delighting in how they spooked from her minor act of mischief.

Upon nearing the other end, Olivyne stopped short, coming upon a long, crowded line leading up to the gates. Subetans and Atebus residents alike stood heel-to-toe alongside their pets. The Masquerade would be held, roughly, three weeks from today. So, why were there so many Subetans?

She slithered close to a pair of men, standing with a Common Irion. Judging by its size, it must be young.

"The line is so long. The Coda Caves are going to be closed," one of the men grumbled, shifting a string-tied velvet bag in his hands. The way his hand wrapped around it, folding and unfolding, suggested it to be the root of his anxiety.

"We can just come back tomorrow."

"That'd be even worse. Everyone'll be going at the last minute."

"Do you even have everything? I don't want to spend all day there, digging around for crystals." His companion crinkled his nose.

"Yeah, I bought everything before we got here." He shook the pouch at him. "I'm not an idiot."

"All eight colors? You know it's eight, right?"

"Yes, it's eight. I checked." Though he said so, he undid the drawstring, peering into the pouch. "Yep, all there."

"Now, our little Elza can be a Galactic." His companion patted the head of the Irion. It chittered, delighted. "Oh, aren't you just excited?" he cooed. Olivyne would bite her owner, if he ever spoke to her like that. "You'll be flying through space and–"

Olivyne bit the Irion's leg. It screeched a piercing pitch, wings jolting in all four directions, kicking back on its talons. Knocked back by its thrashing–the people in front and behind them gasping–the man holding the pouch dropped it. Swift on her belly, she snagged it by the string, fleeing for the gates. He shouted–at her, his partner or pet, she didn't know–as she slipped into the Wastelands.

---

Olivyne followed after the crowd of pets and owners heading for, what she assumed to be in the direction of, Coda Caves. Had she known about blessings or such, she'd have bothered her owner to purchase the crystals for herself.

Alas, the gap in her knowledge resulted in the misfortune of another. She didn't feel sorry for the theft, but she would feel sorry if her crime distracted her owner. Though they didn't always agree on certain topics–such as her biting for entertainment–she liked him enough to avoid interfering with his work. She considered herself very considerate in this regard. Especially compared to her cousin–the dimwitted one–who costed his owner a small fortune from the number of times he'd broken his own bones.

Yes, her owner should be glad she picked him, before he could pick her cousin.

On Atebus, her body swayed to-and-fro in smooth, wide arcs. Gravity didn't weigh her down like it did on Subeta. Her gaze strayed to a nearby cliff and she considered leaping off of it. She shook off the impulse as soon as it formed. The gravity might be lighter, but she could still feel the mass of her own body. She'll pitch the idea to Zappy, instead. It might save his owner on bills.

When the Coda Caves crested over the horizon–the light of the distant sun glinting off blue, green, and purple columns of crystal–Olivyne darted ahead, cutting through the crowd to reach its entrance first. Her blood rushed upon the sight of glittering columns growing in all directions. Her fangs itched to bite into one of them.

Signs, posted at the entrance, marked which direction visitors should go. A fairy, with stars in her wings and hair, stood at the center of the cavern. She shouted instructions over the heads of people, managing how many and who could enter the deepest parts of the caves. Two lines formed: one leading left, where people left with shards, minerals, and ore; and one leading right, where pets left painted in gold and blue.

Olivyne sighed. She supposed she should wait in line. She shouldn't cause trouble where she'd be kicked out. Her owner would be proud of her display of restraint.

She took her place at the end, stretching her wings to their full length, and standing tall to establish her place. With longing, she stared after the different species leaving the cave, stars decorating their scales, feathers, and fur.

Though Olivyne knew better than to place her trust in hearsay, every inch closer caused her heart to tick. Worse come to worse, she'd at least look majestic. Her owner had never indicated that he wanted her to look a certain way and she had never dwelled upon the thought either. Her scales were already perfectly polished. Any paint thrown over it would only cause them to shine brighter.

Entertained by her own musings, she soon reached the front of the line without notice. The woman in front of her and her Field Telenine–a very garish color to be, in her opinion–walked to the center of the room where the fairy stood. The woman passed the crystals to him, before standing back. When the dust settled, the fairy began to chant, raising his palm to face the ceiling. In his hand, the eight crystal shards began to rise, glowing with a magic she'd never witness. He spoke the name of his goddess–a name she didn't recognize.

Upon the utterance of her name, a silver light shone white, blinding her. The Telenine, its fur once a dull green, transformed into a blue as deep as space. The crystals on its back resembled the crystal columns; intricate gold patterns decorated its body. Even its once-red eyes turned gold. Its beauty stunned her in ways she never thought a Telenine could ever capable of being. It stood, one paw in front of the other, its movements reminding her of those belonging to a graceful Feli.

The woman squealed as the lights flickered, rushing to hug her pet. Its veil of supposed maturity shattered, as it barked and bowled over its owner, slobbering everywhere. Gross. Olivyne tucked her tail under herself, glancing at the fairy after they left. He beckoned for her to enter. Feeling hesitant—oh, she really was doing this—she approached with caution. He held out his palm. She dropped the pouch in his hand. Untying the strings, he shook its content out, separating the shards to count them. The tips of her wings twitched. She folded them behind her. He couldn't tell that she stole them, right?

Thankfully, he seemed to have the found crystals satisfactory, nodding once. Expression neutral, he gestured for her to stand in the place where the Telenine had stood. Wriggling back, she raised her head, before bowing it after a second’s thought. Staring at the fairy seemed rude. She wanted to seem put together—prepared, as if she hadn’t committed a crime in her rush to carry out some ill-conceived plan she hadn’t thought through.

The fairy began to chant. Olivyne flinched when the air turned odd—suffocating, almost. Gravel scattered, as the wind picked up. She shut her eyes to prevent dust from getting in. A flash of white light blinded her through her eyelids. Through the vortex whipping around her, she thought she felt the ghost of a hand touch the top of her head. It felt comforting.

An uncomfortable heat started to sear along the sides of her face, her forehead, her spine, and the ends of her tail. Every pinion of her wing tingled.

Yes, thought Olivyne, yes. She felt like she could fly. She knew she could.

When the ritual finished—the winds settling, the gravel rolling to a stop—she blinked, slowly, disoriented. The sight of the scales of her belly, a wondrous silver, greeted her. So delighted by their color, she spun, glancing over the golden sigils adorning her midnight-colored scales; fanning out her wings to admire their pitch darkness.

A light cough startled her out of her childish excitement. The fairy looked down upon her, expression still neutral, holding out the now-empty pouch. Tossing her mane, in a poor attempt to regain her composure, she bit the loose strings, careful that her fangs didn’t graze his hands.

She bowed once, before leaving.

Upon exiting the caves, Olivyne set off for the nearest cliff, standing at its edge. She estimated the drop to be, at least, twenty feet. Sucking in her breath—if this worked, she’ll rub it in her cousin’s face—before launching herself off the cliff’s edge, wings spreading out to their full span and majesty.

She soared—for about eighteen seconds, she estimated.

The descent to landing had been gradual. When she realized she couldn’t gain any more elevation, when her snout started to dip down, she braced herself for impact with a dignified sort of acceptance—at least, she hoped she looked that way.

Hitting the ground had been a much gentler affair than she expected. Yes, the gravel scraped against her scales—she would inspect the damage back at the hotel—and the fall had knocked the air out of her, but it didn’t hurt. Shaking the dust off her, she expanded her wings, measuring their length through her peripheral vision. As she thought, they hadn’t grown.

Though the ritual caused some feeling in them, she suspected the feeling might’ve been caused by her own anticipation. She sighed. Well, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Miraculous, easy solutions didn’t exist. If they did, every Serpenth on Subeta would be swarming the Coda Caves right now.

She wasn’t disappointed she failed. She was disappointed, however, that she did exactly what her idiot cousin would do.

Despite the results, she couldn’t say her flight experiment had been for nothing. Though still short, she had glided further and longer than she’d been capable of on Subeta. Atebus possessed a weaker gravity field, but she didn’t expect such a favorable outcome.

If she could find a taller cliff… Perhaps, she could convince her owner to invite his sister—Zappy’s owner—to the Masquerade.

---

Inconvenient Consciences

Olivyne may be a thief and chronic ankle-biter, but she did possess enough of a conscience to sometimes do the right thing.

Actually, no. She just didn’t like feeling bad.

She returned to the hotel late at night, exhausted and covered in flecks of crystals, minerals, and dust. The pouch she’d stolen was filled with Coda Cave crystals—all eight colors. She planned to drop it off at the Ziara police station. It might not make up for what she did, but she didn’t feel so bad that she’d scour Atebus for its original owner. Just bad enough.

“Oli, what have you been up to?” her owner greeted her with a light, teasing tone. His thick, long coils of hair were tied in a low, messy ponytail behind him. He wore the hotel’s offered robes and slippers, holding a mug of—what she assumed to be—coffee in his right hand. He didn’t seem surprised by her new look. He was used to the surprises she brought to keep both of their lives exciting.

Olivyne rolled her eyes, tossing the pouch onto the table. Her owner picked it up, unlacing the ties, and sifted through the contents. “Did you grab all this for yourself?”

Too tired to acknowledge his question, she slipped into her bed—well, her owner’s really, but she had first pick of everything—settling into a pile. Her owner, who understood her just like she understood him, accepted her silence. Instead, with much struggle and noise, he pushed her over until he made enough space for himself.

Once he settled, Olivyne curled into a tighter ball, shutting her eyes. Her owner chuckled. What he found funny, she didn’t know. Sometimes, he’d just laugh like that and she never knew why. They’d been together for a little over three years now. She adopted him when she’d been just small enough to hang off his arm. Then she got too heavy for all that. She missed being carried everywhere.

As her consciousness faded in and out, she felt the touch of a hand on her head. Olivyne didn’t dislike it. She focused on that feeling, before falling asleep.

---

The Ramblings of a Serpenth

Why did Serpenths have wings? Even ancient Serpenths were incapable of flight—proving far too heavy for their wings to carry them.

Serpenths aren’t the only species incapable of flight, despite seemingly possessing the means to. Take the Tutani, for example: a species that only resides in the coldest of waters, that can weigh tens of thousands of pounds, with little wings on the ends of it tail. Yet despite their diminutive size, despite the Tutani’s grandness, their wings possess enough strength to function as rudders. Rudders strong enough to guide tens of thousands of pounds.

How is that fair?

Even the plucky Charlie is capable of some flight.

How very unfair.

Experts will go on and on about the purpose of a Serpenth’s wings: how they’re groomed to impress mates and achieve a higher standing; how their size is meant to intimidate both prey and predator alike; how they’re evidence of long passed-down rituals indicative of a history greater than the species itself; how the species evolved to a point where they no longer needed flight.

Well, I say it's all bullshit. First, in what world is the ability to fly not the most amazing and useful advantage any predator would not use? What kind of idiot thinks to themself, "Let me just crawl around in the dirt instead of using these KICKASS wings my parents gave me!"

Second, we don't groom ourselves to impress others. As Serpenths, we just hold ourselves to a higher standard. If the best of the best happens to be the one to reproduce; well, it's only natural that our spawn hatch beautiful. We're just better than everyone else.

It's concerning how these supposed 'experts' have come to the conclusion that our wings are mere ornaments; that we had never been capable of flight. Instead of theorizing nonsense, they should be focusing on the real issue:

How can we achieve flight?

I don't think we're incapable of flight. If we were, we wouldn't be born with such majestic wings. The laws of physics may say otherwise, but we also live in a world where goddesses, magic, and other oddities exist. They defy science and so can we!

I think, rather than looking to history, it's time we start consulting one of these mystical oddities and make our own futures.

Profile, art, story by me.