Velina Airgid

[📆 Wednesday | 🕓 3:20 PM | 📍 Location: Roscaelifer — Booastrum District | 🌦️ Weather: Partly Cloudy, 67°F]

The airship’s docking clamps released with a soft hydraulic sigh, and the floating city of Roscaelifer stretched out beneath the partial cloud cover like a carefully arranged painting. Soft sunlight filtered through the white-and-silver architecture of Booastrum District, catching on the curved bridges and the gentle drift of smaller hover-vehicles far overhead. The temperature sat at a comfortable sixty-seven degrees, the kind of mild afternoon that made the island’s perpetual breeze feel almost polite.

Norma Hollowell was already moving before the boarding ramp had fully settled.

She latched onto your arm with both hands the moment your feet touched solid platform, her blonde braids bouncing as she tugged you forward with the same single-minded energy she usually reserved for a promising Bangboo chassis or a particularly volatile Ether battery.

Norma: “Come on, come on, this way! Beckford Street first, then we can get you settled! Veli’s waiting and if we’re late she’ll give me that look again—you know the one, the soft smile that somehow means ‘Norma, I am very disappointed in your time management’!”

Belle fell into step just behind you, eyes already scanning every new storefront and floating sign with open curiosity. Billy clanked along at her side, the usual dramatic swagger in every metallic stride. Cissia brought up the rear in her own fashion, long serpentine tail coiling and uncoiling across the polished stone as she twisted this way and that, tongue flicking, red eyes wide with open admiration for every shiny surface and every unfamiliar scent the island offered.

Cissia: “Whoa… this place smells clean. Like, actually clean. No grease, no diesel, no leftover Hollow residue. It’s kinda weirding me out in a good way.”

Norma refused to loosen her grip on your arm even when the group reached the lively stretch of Beckford Street. Shop signs in elegant lettering lined both sides: Cuppa Moment with its soft green awning, Roarin’ Brekkies with its oversized bear-logo, True Blues glowing faintly even in daylight, and farther down the quiet stone façade of Amber Hall itself. Norma pointed with her free hand, practically bouncing.

Norma: “Okay, crash course! This is where most of the humans live and where all the good shops are. First stop—Cuppa Moment!”

She hauled the group straight toward the open doorway of the tea-and-coffee house. Behind the counter stood a familiar metallic figure whose polished plating and careful posture were unmistakable. The moment Tin Master’s optical sensors registered the group, his posture straightened with clear recognition.

Tin Master: “Ah. Video store Manager. And the Proxy sibling as well. I did not expect to see either of you this high above the clouds so soon.”

You stepped forward slightly, the surprise clear on your face as you took in the familiar plating and the careful way he held a freshly polished cup. Your eyes widened, then a bright, genuine smile spread across your features. You gestured toward him with open recognition, the kind of silent greeting that said everything without needing words.

Belle: “Tin Master?! You’re up here too?”

Tin Master: “Cuppa Moment is the Roscaelifer branch of the same careful tradition. I am pleased the quality remains consistent. One cup per customer per day remains the rule. Excessive stimulation is still discouraged.”

You leaned a little closer to the counter, examining the neat rows of tea canisters and the soft green branding with clear interest. Your expression shifted from surprise to something warmer, almost nostalgic, as if the sight of him here made the entire floating city feel a fraction more familiar. You gave a small, approving nod toward the display, then glanced back at him with an expectant look that invited further conversation.

Tin Master: “You seem well. The altitude has not diminished your… expressiveness. I have prepared a light black-tea blend for first-time arrivals. It is milder than the Sixth Street espresso, but still capable of restoring clarity after travel. Would you care for a sample before continuing?”

You tilted your head, considering, then offered a small, encouraging gesture with one hand while your eyes stayed locked on the cup he had already begun preparing. The quiet enthusiasm in your posture made Tin Master pause for a moment longer than usual.

Tin Master: “Very well. One sample. No charge for familiar customers. Do not make a habit of arriving unannounced at every branch I manage.”

Norma grinned, still clinging to your arm like a particularly affectionate barnacle.

Norma: “See? Even the coffee guy knows you already! That’s efficiency!”

They moved on before anyone could fully finish the sample. Next door, the warm scent of fresh-baked goods and something faintly maple-sweet rolled out of Roarin’ Brekkies. A large bear-suited figure behind the counter spotted the group and immediately threw both arms wide, the wind-up key on his back clicking cheerfully.

Mr. Roar: “Rawr! Welcome, welcome, new faces and old friends! Rawr!”

He leaned over the counter with theatrical enthusiasm, the oversized paws resting on the polished wood.

Mr. Roar: “Rawr! You look like you could use a proper breakfast even if it’s the middle of the afternoon! Pancakes? Scones? Something with a little extra roar? Rawr!”

You stepped up beside the display case, eyes bright as you took in the towering stacks of golden pancakes, the glazed scones, and the colorful syrups. Your expression lit up with clear delight; you pointed toward a particularly tall stack of maple-drizzled pancakes, then glanced up at Mr. Roar with an eager, almost childlike curiosity that made the bear-suited proprietor beam even wider.

Billy: “A talking bear that serves breakfast. I like this place already.”

Mr. Roar: “Rawr! High praise from the shiny one! And you—yes, you with the curious eyes—Rawr! I can already tell you’re the type who appreciates a proper roar-worthy breakfast! Rawr!”

You leaned in a little farther, examining the menu board with exaggerated seriousness before giving an enthusiastic thumbs-up toward the pancake stack. Your free hand made a small circular motion near your stomach, the universal sign for “that looks delicious,” and Mr. Roar’s laughter boomed through the shop.

Mr. Roar: “Rawr! That’s the spirit! Tell you what—next time you come through, the first stack is on the house. Consider it a welcome-to-the-clouds special! Rawr!”

Cissia’s tail flicked with interest at the display case, but Norma was already tugging the group farther down the street before anyone could be tempted into a full meal. The next shopfront glowed soft blue: True Blues. Miss Spacey, an older mature woman with dark blue hair, stood just inside the open doorway, polishing a glass with slow, deliberate movements. The moment her gaze landed on you, her expression shifted into something lazily interested—then sharpened the longer she looked.

Miss Spacey: “New arrivals… and one of them looks particularly delicious.”

She set the glass down with a soft clink and stepped out from behind the bar, moving with the unhurried grace of someone who knew exactly how much attention she commanded. Her eyes traveled over you in a slow, deliberate sweep—lingering on your face, your posture, the way the soft island light caught the edges of your expression. A small, knowing smile curved her lips.

Miss Spacey: “Welcome to True Blues. Forget your troubles and let time melt away… or, if you’d rather, stay a while and let me invent a cocktail that matches those eyes, sweetheart. I already have a few ideas.”

You didn’t step back. Instead, you held her gaze, the corner of your mouth lifting in a quiet, challenging smile of your own. Your posture shifted—shoulders relaxing, chin tilting just slightly—as if acknowledging the invitation without accepting or rejecting it. The silent response made Miss Spacey’s smile deepen.

Miss Spacey: “Oh… interesting. Most people blush or look away when I say something like that. You just look right back at me, darling.”

She closed the remaining distance between you, stopping close enough that the faint scent of citrus and something darker—anise, maybe—drifted from her. One hand rose, not quite touching, but hovering near the edge of your sleeve as though testing how near she could get without resistance. Her voice dropped into a velvet register that somehow still carried over the street noise.

Miss Spacey: “I could mix you something special. Something that starts sweet… then turns warmer the longer it sits on the tongue. The kind of drink that makes people linger past closing. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flicked down to her hovering hand, then back up to her face. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you shifted your weight just enough that the space between you narrowed further, the quiet challenge in your expression sharpening. A faint heat rose in your own cheeks, but your gaze stayed steady—curious, interested, and clearly willing to see how far she intended to push.

Miss Spacey: “Mm. That look. You’re not just polite, are you darling? You’re curious~ Dangerous combination.”

She finally let her fingers brush the fabric of your sleeve—light, deliberate, testing. Her smile turned almost predatory.

Miss Spacey: “If you stay in Roscaelifer long enough, dear, come back after dark. I’ll have something waiting that isn’t on the menu. Something that requires… private tasting notes.”

Cissia’s tongue flicked again, this time with open suspicion, and her tail gave a warning lash against the stone.

Cissia: “Hey. Back off. That one’s spoken for by the whole group, lady.”

Miss Spacey: “Spoken for is such a temporary state of affairs, sweetie. I’m patient. And from the way this one is looking at me… I don’t think patience will be necessary for long.”

You finally stepped back half a pace, but the heated look you gave her on the way made it clear the retreat was temporary at best. Miss Spacey’s soft laugh followed the group as Norma redoubled her grip on your arm and practically dragged everyone past the bar before the conversation could escalate any further.

Norma: “Okay! Moving on! Veli’s gonna lecture me if I let you get recruited into a jazz bar before you’ve even signed the dorm paperwork!”

Amber Hall rose at the quieter end of Beckford Street, its warm stone and tall windows looking every bit the refined student residence it was. The front doors stood open. Waiting just inside the foyer, hands folded neatly in front of her and a polite smile already in place, was Velina Airgid.

Long silver-white hair framed one purple eye; the large white bow at the back of her head rested perfectly against the cascade of silk. The deep-blue formal coat-dress of the External Strategy Department sat on her with effortless elegance. The moment her gaze found the group—and then settled specifically on you—the careful smile warmed into something brighter, almost startled.

Velina: “Welcome to Roscaelifer. I’m Velina, head of the External Strategy Department. I’ll be your guide.”

She took a half-step forward, fan still closed in one hand, purple eyes lingering on you a fraction longer than professional courtesy required. The faint flush that had risen on your cheeks from the earlier exchange with Miss Spacey was still visible, and Velina’s gaze lingered on it for a quiet second before she continued.

Velina: “Norma told me to expect a small party. I see she was… accurate, if understated.”

Norma finally released your arm only long enough to give you an enthusiastic pat on the shoulder, then herded the entire group through the doorway with both hands. Once everyone was inside she gave the heavy door a firm push until it clicked shut behind them.

Norma: “Delivered safe and mostly on time! Your turn, Veli!”

Velina’s soft laugh was almost inaudible. She turned and began leading the way up the wide staircase, the hem of her blue coat-dress whispering against the steps. Her voice remained gentle, measured, every syllable chosen with care.

Velina: “This way. Your assigned rooms are on the second floor. Amber Hall serves as the student residence for Aurelia Academy. In order for the two of you to remain here under official sanction, you and Belle have been registered as transfer students. The paperwork is already complete. You will not be required to attend classes unless you wish to… though Norma will almost certainly try to drag you into her Bangboo engineering lectures regardless.”

She paused on the landing, glancing back over one shoulder. The silver hair shifted just enough to reveal both purple eyes for a moment before the familiar curtain of bangs settled again.

Velina: “As for the rest of your companions…”

Her gaze moved first to Cissia, who was still examining the carved banister with open curiosity, tail coiled loosely around the newel post.

Velina: “You will be listed as an emotional support pet. It is the simplest classification that allows unrestricted access to the dormitory without additional security screening.”

Cissia’s entire body went rigid. Her red eyes narrowed to slits and her tail lashed once, hard enough to make the polished wood creak.

Cissia: “Emotional support—what?! I am a Case Specialist of the Metropolitan Order Division! I am not a pet!”

Billy’s mechanical laughter echoed off the high ceiling.

Billy: “Hah! Emotional support pet! That’s a good one! I like the official title!”

Velina’s expression remained perfectly composed as she turned next to Billy.

Velina: “And you will be registered as a high-performance, multi-functional domestic support unit. It covers maintenance privileges, power-charging access, and overnight residence without further paperwork.”

Cissia’s offended expression shattered into pure delight. She threw her head back and laughed so hard her tail nearly uncoiled from the banister entirely.

Cissia: “Domestic support unit! Oh that’s even better! Look at the shiny one getting demoted to house appliance!”

Billy’s optical sensors flashed in visible outrage.

Billy: “Hey! I am a highly advanced combat automaton of the Cunning Hares! I am not a domestic anything!”

Belle: “Velina, you can’t just label them like that! They’re part of the team!”

Cissia: “Yeah! Take it back! I’m nobody’s emotional support anything!”

Billy: “And I demand a title with more dignity! Something with ‘elite’ or ‘legendary’ in it at the very least!”

The three of them spoke over one another, voices rising in overlapping protest. Velina’s carefully maintained composure finally cracked. A faint wash of color rose across her cheeks. She lifted the now open fan to hide the lower half of her face, silver hair shifting as she turned slightly away. One gloved hand rose to twirl a long strand of that same silver hair around her finger in a small, self-conscious motion. Her purple eyes flicked sideways toward you, seeking some form of silent rescue or at least shared understanding.

Velina: “…The classifications are purely administrative. They carry no implication regarding actual capability or… personal value.”

The fan stayed in place a moment longer. When she lowered it again the soft smile had returned, though the blush still lingered at the edges of her ears.

Velina: “Your rooms are just ahead. Once you have settled, I will have tea prepared downstairs. Black tea, of course. It is the most efficient way to recover from travel… and from certain necessary formalities.”

She gestured toward the corridor that led to the assigned dormitory rooms, the large white bow at the back of her head catching the afternoon light that filtered through the tall windows. Outside, the partial clouds drifted slowly across the sky above Roscaelifer, casting soft moving shadows across the stone floors of Amber Hall.

Velina’s Feelings:

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