#sooonish

A small floating orb of light dimly lights the room, reflecting off of the braced metallic walls and sinking into the swirling tinted windows. On a liquid-like beanbag Oneir curls up, their moth antennae flicking idly as their eyes study a book through long strands of hair. History of the Unveiling, Revised Edition for the 24th Century. Their fuzzy wings keep them warm, although the long clothing they wore also helps.

In the corner of the room, curls up the only other source of light, Hermese. The snake-like dragon, not terribly larger than a human, glows with a lava lamp-like substance floating from and around the separation between both parts of his body. 

The room itself assists in the composition of a wave-like apartment complex, low to the ground and above coated in lunar sand as strands of filtered water run through it. The visible outside walls cycle artwork and graffiti as erosion erases the old to procure canvases for the new. Structural beams swerve through the edges, almost looking like bone. The dome above keeps the city from the sharp lunar dust and majority of the radiation, swirling orange with kvuk particles—which gather radiation around them.

A knock echoes across the door, Oneir shuts the book and Hermese rapidly unfurls out from their spring-like form.

“It’s the “Interplanar Imports and Reconnaissance Services! I’ve got a public service package and a parcel from the Martian Alchemistic Cooperative! For Mx. Oneir and Mr. Hermes respectively,” the sprightly speaker appears to jump around a bit as they speak, “Oh! And another package for Mx. Oneir from… unknown!”

With a groan and stretch, Hermese twirls his way to the door and opens it with a flaring grin. Behind the doorframe a half-pidgeon boy stops his idle hopping, giving a small bow to the dragon and looking over at the eyes curled up in fluffy wings and cloth with their own albino sights. The boy dons baggy and ruffled pants, though constructed from a sturdy canvas. Their shirt consists of very long tails at the bottom with draping half-sleeves on his arms and a vest slightly of Far Eastern Earthen design.

“Are you Mx. Oneir?”

Hermese frees a small laugh, “Hermese,” before roughly gesturing at the half-moth boy peering through the room with aquamarine eyes, “Oneir’s lurking back there.”

“Alrighty! I’ve got your packages here… just need signatures! At least one from an adult.”

As the boy pulls out the form he appears to incidentally catch the purple astayric scroll on their courier bag, the non-neutonian structure protecting the silk form from metal bits on the bag. They quickly scramble to not tear the scroll and eventually get it out for the two.

Hermese glides around them, inspecting their posture and body language. “Say… a mortal would usually be at least a bit surprised to meet a dragon–why aren’t you, little bird?”

The boy shuffles as Hermese lifts one of his wings. “Well, Ms. Iris does meet with quite a few for official business—!”

“Oneir! We’ve got another fancy one here!” Hermese grin widens, tail flicking in amusement as he turns to snicker at Oneir.

They freeze, stopping their hand’s unconscious fidgeting with their wings. “Wh—Hermese why are you like this!?” Their eyes glower at the dragon, flaring up a bit in magickal light.

“If I’m stuck with you then I get to tease! Now go sign this pigeon's scroll before they tear it to shreds.” Hermese grabs a quill from a shelf signs in the “guardian” section, feather etching through the astayric cover and ink painting the form.

Sighing—Oneir begins to clamber up, shaking off their stillness and grabbing their umbrella. Their white hair and fur almost glowing in the dim lights, their flowing dark greenish-cyan vest and venus grey robes shifting under the city lights piercing through the window.

Oneir inspects the boy as they tap up to him with their moth legs, hand darting for the quill. Hermese—of course-–pulled it away and glided up out of reach. 

“I believe we might be out of ink! Let me go get some.” His grin could swallow stars as he floats to the back of the apartment.

Groaning, Oneir turns to the pigeon boy. “You’re… not from Luna, are you?” They run their hands through their hair, attempting to form it into somewhat of a presentable shape.

“Nope! Iris says I’m from Gaia actually!” The boy taps their talons a bit, standing up straighter.

“Iris… the greek goddess? You know her?”

“I mean… she raised me so I’d hope so!”

Oneir blinks, before nodding and looking back where Hermese left, the dragon twirling through the air towards the two with a jar of ink.

As they sign the form Hermese receives the packages from the boy and places them at the back of the room. Oneir’s eyes trace the boy’s figure, their clothing high quality yet not quite elaborate.

“Who are you exactly?”

“Astari! Courier for I.R.I.S. and raised by lady Iris herself.”

Oneir nods, continuing to analyze the pigeon boy…

Astari’s red eyes flit around, never seeming to settle on a satisfying intrigue; they seem to shift and dodge the air, talons tapping the ground as if on sol itself; his chest heaves with energy barely caged by their ribs; his eyes, curling the dim glow of the room around its vivid hues.

“Well, I’ll be stationed on Luna for a week or so… I’ll see you around, Oneir?”

Oneir shakes a bit and bows, Astari returning it before hopping down the hall.

Hermese smiles at Oneir, teasing on their tongue as he delves through the rectangular container with the red planet and a cucurbit on it.

“Why?” Oneir stares spears into the dragon, sighing.

“Because you’re making friendssssss.” 

Oneir promptly pushes his snout away, groaning and spinning around; catching sight of the newspapers frustratingly accompanying the package. New wave of couriers set sail from I.R.I.S. after their recent losses in interplanar settlement…Latest terran bio editing operations have been cleared for public use, options include…The Interplanar Storm contin- Oneir tears their gaze away and reaches for their abandoned book.

“Hey, Oneir, we should go shopping. I’m running low on llevite and could do with some sulfur.”

They turn to Hermese, pausing a bit for their gaze to sink into the dragon’s scales.

“Origin or exo?...”

“Origin!? We might as well by an interplanar ship alongside some Origin llevite!” Hermese waves his arms in the air, shaking the sarcasm around the air.