Earth Year 3027

A fan daintily waved across the air, decorated in lace like material and mended with the softest of fibers and silken strings. The hand that held this item was even more elegant- long fingers and perfectly manicured nails brushing against the fan as if it were caressing a child's cheek. It was a warm day that brought little winds evidently so other people were fanning themselves as well. With their electric fans that carried the power of the real thing with the size of a handheld, portable one. Built in cooling system.

"Tsk." The owner of the fan's mouth turned down in slight distaste. Arram was befuddled. Technology was used to replace simple actions- like simply fanning yourself with a hand. Back in the deserts of Persia, you'd be happy to have a windy day in the sweltering hot sun. But here people seemed to take everything for granted.

Oh, those days in Persia. Riding along camel backs bathed in the moonlight's glow, romantic escapades, scandalous dishes served up with a course of drama and the silken voices of Arabic floating around and about from the usual traveler.

Arram mourned the olden days. But!- This was a wonderful year to live in. Everybody lived equally and in a sort of blissful peace almost everyday. How those feelings that he'd so taken for granted were missed. They were still there but not in the air-headed, bubbliness these little mortals obtained. Nevertheless, it was not the right temperature to think such nostalgic thoughts.

Standing up, the djinn walked out of the shadows as the fan was snapped to close and tucked in the pocket of a skirt. He was a she today- or was always a she but just... looked like it more.

Walking across to Cafe Ventusair, her hair bobbed and bounced and swayed in its freed state. Her shirt was a high collared, red blouse with a long, almost hippie-like skirt that was a subdued cream color. It went down to cover the fact Arram wore no shoes.

People did look at her strangely due to her foreign looks and the old, mystic air about her but she paid them no mind. They were mostly men, too, bollocks.

Those slobbering, disgusting excuses for cells. They had wives and she damn well knew that. Sometimes she'd pondered destroying the humans. Things like men had a play in those ponders and musings from long ago.

Elec walked out of a bakery after buying some freshly made croissants only to find people staring at someone. Elec allowed his gaze to follow where everyone was looking to find a woman of foreign orient and a magical feeling about her. "Well hello there, not quite common to see someone dressed such as yourself in these parts. Although it must be quite comfortable compared to being covered in clothes that will only make you sweat out of the things you put on this morning." Elec said as he walked up to the female djinn with a slight smile on his face. The corvan highly doubted that the woman would recognize Elec as one from noble decent, but you never know among those with magic within them. "My name is Elec, one of the many corvan at your service," a slight bow quickly followed the short introduction. Although Elec said he was a corvan, and this was true, he left out the fact that he was one of the rare types of corvan that use combat magic rather than persuasion magic. He also left out the fact that his last name was Stravin knowing that if he told that it might be known that he is of royal decent as the only corvans with the last name Stravin were in fact royalty in a sense as they were renowned as powerful adversaries on the battle field. "May I ask for the same courtesy as to learn your name and species?" Elec had no clue either of these two, otherwise he would not have asked.

Stopping at the oh so bold male, Arram's nose crinkled in slight distaste before she relaxed. A shrug of the shoulders was her only response as her hair went to rest on her back. At the mention of 'corvan' her eyes sparked. "Oh?" How interesting. She hadn't met a corvan in a while- the last one had been in the ruins of an Egyptian temple.

Well, at least this male was polite. Not the usual bottom feeders and slime that approached her, that was fore sure. Arram searched the male for any lies for a moment before allowing a small smile to grace her features.

"Arram Delevia, sweetling." The foreign accent was not heavy but not light. It had slight traces of English roots mixed with Arabic and Latin, but that was all the djinni would give away.

She leaned over and smiled a secret smile. "I am a djinni, dear boy. A free one, thankfully." Ah yes, there were no links or chains of security in Arram's magical field. No one was with her either. She had freedom. "And no, I shall not be granting you any wishes or doing any needs you want," She sniffed with a look of annoyance that filtered across her face. People usually asked that when she told them her species. Very ignorant, very annoying.

Why does this keep happening to me, Cyrus thought while falling down out of an plane. The Protogenoi was doing a request from one of his human friends that request was sky-diving, and right about know he wished he never accepted the request. Yet, it wasn't in his nature, but it seemed like a fun thing to do.

Down falling to his certain death, Cyrus yanked at the cords to release his parachute. The chute did not open; it tightly closed no matter how hard the boy pulled. This isn't happening, he thought while looking down at the city. The area he was hurtling toward was a tall, towering building. It's dominate structure told the boy one thing, he was a fly. A fly that would be cleaned off the windows of the building.

The thought of actually dying seemed to awaken something deep within him; out of nowhere a breeze swept the boy up, and carried him to an alley. The hell did that happen, he thought while leaning down to the side of a building, I was falling from a large height, getting closer to certain death and the next thing I know is that a breeze picked me up and carried me here, weird. I should get moving he said softly while getting out of the orange jump suit, he didn't want anyone to mistake him for a criminal.

Slowly stepping out of the alley, his jacket swaying back and forth Cyrus looked around himself, wondering what the heck he would do next.