I'm at Misha Gericke's blog today talking about relationships and Defying Gravity.
Here is a glimpse of the planet Medusa before the asteroid hit it. This also shows how Alezandros’s grandparents met.
The big city. He was here. Finally.
Phylpos stepped off the spacetaxi platform and into metropolitan Snehta. His fingers tightened around his bag. Spacecars flashed through the air as golden sunbeams glinted off their silver chromes. His forked tongue darted out and dampened his lips. A gentle roar, much like the mighty felion, rose from the city. His eyes couldn’t see enough as the explosion of senses beat against him.
They told him it would be different.
He had no idea.
Bag in hand, he hopped down the stairs and strode along the lined pathways on the ground level. He pulled out the slip of paper and read: 12 Sarie Way. Now where was this Sarie Way? Perhaps he should’ve asked the spacetaxi for better directions.
Fur and tongue knocked into him, and his paper fluttered from his fingertips. His gasp halted in his throat when that purple tongue lapped him across the face.
“Marvi, here.” The woman grasped the kanog and yanked the furry beast down. “I’m terribly sorry about that. It’s Marvi’s first time in the city, and he’s overexcited.”
Phylpos’s gaze met hers, and he marveled at her dark green eyes. He’d never see them so dark, almost like leaves in twilight. He smeared the slobber off his face with his sleeve. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my first time in the city too.”
“Really? Are you planning to stay long? There are so many places to see, like the gardens and the zoo and the museums.” She grasped his arm in her excitement.
“I’ll be here for a while.” He didn’t know how long. It just depended on work. “I’d love to see everything.”
“Oh, you must!” She laughed like a sputtering engine and gently squeezed his arm. “We need to be properly introduced. I’m Alezandra, and you’ve already met Marvi here.”
“Yes, I have.” He petted the kanog’s head, and it lapped at his hand. “I’m Phylpos.”
“Phylpos,” she said his name as if she savored a rich dessert, one syllable at a time. His heart rate increased, and his arm where she still had hold of it burned him most delightfully. “I believe we’ll be good friends, won’t we?”
“I hope so.” And he did.