Kittara lay in bed watching Mo as he looked out of the 40th floor window. He'd been good in bed, very good and she now wished she'd slept with him when he was younger. True sex isn't all about back muscles and hard dicks, but they certainly played a big part. She had a good long look at his naked rear and if he'd ever managed to straighten those legs completely he'd have been a very skinny eight footer. Then there were the tufts of hair, grey tufts now. One seemed to come out of him in a grey shock of hair just above a small residual tail. He heard her laughing and looked around.
"Mo. You are grotesque naked." She laughed.
"All part of my charm." He replied with a bow.
She got up and looked out of the window with him, the better part of Ixir lay spread out before them.
"It all looks so different." He said.
Mo knew this wasn't the same planet that he'd called home. Ixir had moved six times by now, each time the population moved to a new planet with fresh resources, by the empire. All planets died and the usual practise was to simply ignore the fact and call the new planet Ixir, or Ventella. Only the control freak Maran's used a numbering system. When she'd explained this to him he'd hit on something that many clerics find hard to grasp.
"Only Mendera is constant," he'd said, "only the holy city goes on forever, unchanging and constant."
Now she'd brought him to Ixir for a look around before she went to war and he became once again the owner of the best emporium on Mendera, but at least no longer in stasis for most of the time. Mo seemed entranced by the view of Norraine below them and the scar a fallen tower had left on the beautiful city.
"Next they'll dig down." He said.
The leisure complex they were in had been built by a Ventellan consortium and was a well-built solid structure that should last for at least a hundred years. The problem was that the Ixir government had grabbed it for the much needed imperial credits it brought it and had passed little back to the Ventellan consortium that built it. Slowly external investment and expertise was avoiding Ixir and their own expertise was all too often shoddy and downright dangerous. Fifteen hundred had died when the Bank of Ixir building had collapsed and no one believed the official story about a terrorist attack.
"They will," said Mo, "you watch. They'll put the people in underground housing."
"Come on, let's get dressed." She replied.
