Decent Land: The Dance of the Gator
Chapter One — Musicians of Maias
A pair of emerald harps were set upon a gilded stage, at the far end of The Vetzsas Hotel’s empty ballroom. Īsla walked across its carpet — thick, and patterned in curls and quavers — on the tips of her toes; scared to break the silence. Deep beneath the foundations of the building, the bioship Vetzsas had halted her stroke. From her birth, she had thrashed throughout the sea of stars above you, and never come to pause without an order. To the population spread along her back, every wanton undulation of her muscle was predictable. For her to lay — as if asleep — against the firmament was like the very planet ‘neath your feet had ceased to spin.
Several guests had called to Īsla, as she stumbled down the twenty-two flights of stairs to the foyer. They all demanded a solid explanation, and offered up their own when they heard she didn’t know. The strongest theory was the death of the beast, but a wind outside meant her breath hadn’t failed her. Perhaps a pirate ark had been surveyed approaching them, with little time to warn the public of the ambush. Īsla didn’t care to entertain the rumours, so she firmly instructed they return to their suites.
She followed protocol by moving to the lounge beyond the kitchens, attached to the ballroom she…
