Before the storm arrives, before the wind

Trism stepped out onto the porch and took a deep breath. It was going to be a beautiful day.

[In the Boarding House]

Whatever she supposed she should be doing with her money if she were human ... she wasn't doing that, not really. She needed only to wash her epidermal layer a few times a month to keep it suitably clean, so there wasn't much use for the bathhouses, and since she shared a room with Liir the boarding wasn't an issue.

Cameron did, of course, have her suspicions that soon enough Liir would be deciding to move into a room with that Trism. She still didn't feel as if she could trust him, which was rather strange. Things -- feelings, specifically -- were starting to come far more easily to her. It was disturbing, quite honestly.

She tapped her fingers hard on the surface of one of the vendor's stands and frowned slightly. "I got double that for the same price the last time I was here," which was a lie, but guilt wasn't one of the feelings that had been coming to her lately in force.

Cameron has discovered that the small room is just big enough for her to practice her ballet movements without bumping into anything, so she is doing just that. She has to mind her movements, of course, but that's not difficult for her.

Liir is supposed to be up soon, she thinks, and although it makes her nervous not watching over him ... she understands that he needs his space. That doesn't mean she has to like it.

The ballet is a sufficient distraction for the moment.

Malcolm Reynolds has seen some rutting weird things in his time. But a tornado inside his cargo bay is definitely something new. Just a little one, mind you, no wider than a handwidth across, but just twirling away in the center of the bay pretty-as-you-like. If the place wasn't so dusty, you'd probably never even notice it.

After a brief hesitation, he decides not to go waking anybody up, and not just because he's not entirely convinced anyone else would see it. Instead, he just eases down the steps and slides along the side of the room toward the airlock release. Shouldn't be a thing but to suck that little twister right out the door.

Soon as he comes away from the wall, though, the gorram thing starts coming toward him. It ain't picking up any of the cargo boxes or anything as it does, just keeps bearing down on him. Mal starts back toward the stairs, but the thing catches up with him before he makes it. He whangs his head on the handrail the first time it spins him, and the world goes black.

He comes to with a sky over his head and ground under his feet, and a great shimmering city just in the distance. "This is definitely the weirdest gorram dream in a damn long time," he decides, rubbing the lump on his head.

Down the road from the tavern is a large barn where the locals can stable their mounts. In the barn is a boy, tall and sturdy with buttergold hair slicked back out of his face. He's whistling as he sweeps up and the animals and Animals around him sort of seem to sway and bob to the rhythm as they go about their business.

The streets are still empty this early in the morning. There's the bustle of vendors setting up, but most buyers are at the produce stands right now. The other shops can wait.

Polychrome steps through the door of a strange little store, adding one (1) sky fairy to the morning atmosphere. She's carrying a small, plain paper bag in one hand. It contains depressively drab paints and dyes. She tries to bear up under the fact that she'll be working with boring earth-toned colors today.

There's a little bounce to her step, but she manages not to dance down the street. She's just a happy, normal girl.