The Chronicles of Ether Drive 10

 

Chapter: The Calamities of Ether Drive

Morning. Sun, buzzing, and chirping, yet Anemo is deeply asleep. In the living room, Mistral and Sirocco are discussing anxiously, with a certain rumble coming from their bellies. Mistral paces from one end of the room to the other (a habit borrowed from his master), muttering grumpily. Sirocco, busy with his morning grooming, would chime in with a timid question every now and then. 

— Do... do you think he's mad at us? It wasn't right what we did, was it? We could have left him a little liver...

 — If you're asking me, I think he’s punishing us. As if we’d committed a crime! Mon Dieu... Quelle insolence ! C’est vraiment inadmissible ! 

— Mistral... I don’t know that French language... somehow. Do you know where Eol is? 

— Hm, as if I care about that geek... he’s probably at coffee.
Suddenly, almost simultaneously, the yard door and the front door were filled with bustle. At the front door, Aura; at the back, Fleur. 

— That’s all we needed! Mistral muttered. Two calamities at the same time..

. — Do... do you think Anemo wants to give us away to the Mother Lady? I have a feeling we did something very bad! 

— I hope not, little one! Mistral added with a guilty sigh, but Aura’s voice, synchronized with the key already turning in the lock, seemed to stab him: 

— Anemo! Son, I’m coming in. I came prepared... From the yard, Fleur was shouting impatiently, ready to help Anemo in the sacred process of writing the Ether Drive Chronicles: 

— Mister Anemo! Anemo! Are we doing any work today? 

“Je n'en crois pas mes yeux... Deux calamités en même temps ! C'est inadmissible !” Mistral grumbled only in his mind, plopping his precious black fur onto his velvet pillow. Aura burst in like a whirlwind, carrying bags... four, four large, full bags. 

— Anemo’s Mother Lady is very strong, Sirocco whispered, trotting cheerfully to meet the woman. 

“This little guy is sneaky, I didn't think he had it in him... now he’s sucking up to theto the future mistress... but I don't want to, I’m not leaving! So what if we ate some liver... I mean more... I mean all of it.”

Already inside, Aura set her bags in the hallway and immediately began an inspection of the ground floor: 

— Your master hasn't woken up yet, little one? Don’t worry, I’ll feed you. A... Catching sight of someone, Fleur tapped on the glass of the yard door. 

— Oh, what a sweet little girl! Who might you be, young lady? Aura asked, letting the little storm through the door. 

— Me, I’m Fleur, the neighbor. Ane... uh, Mister Anemo?

 — I am Aura, Anemo’s mother. I must confess, my dear, that I haven't seen him yet; I think he’s sleeping. But let’s make some coffee, a hot cocoa! I need to bring a little order to this chaos and restock the supplies. I heard that... 

Reaching the kitchen, ready to make coffee, Mrs. Gale froze for a few seconds, then from her refined mouth came a sharp, long howl, as if from another world. Anemo appeared instantly in the kitchen doorway, disheveled, in pajamas, squinting. 

— Mother! What’s happening? Did you hurt yourself? 

— A-a mou... a ra... a rodent! You have rodents, for God’s sake, Anemo! U-look at that! Aura’s hand pointed toward the coffee maker, but the little mouse was no longer there—it was in the ginger cat's mouth, and the mouse itself had a coffee bean in its own mouth. Sirocco had raised his tail like a question mark and was looking the potential future mistress straight in the eye. Mistral, appearing on the scene as well, joined the ginger cat, lining up as if for a photo, but muttering under his perfectly aligned whiskers: 

— What are you doing, you dimwit? Do you want to eat your teacher just to get into the future mistress's good graces?! Get out into the yard quickly, while the door is still open!

 — I don't want to eat him, but I-I don't know ho-how to get out! the ginger one replied, also muttering

. — I’ll cover you, take him to the flower bed! Fast! Following the instructions given to his younger comrade, Mistral suddenly leaped, stopping at Aura’s feet and, with a long "meow," began to arch his back and rub against her legs. 

— Oh, Mistral, you two are such perfect gentlemen! What would I do without you?

Anemo, now fully awake, took his mother in his arms. 

— Let me make you a coffee... or would you prefer tea? Poor Mother! I think you’ve had quite a scare. 

— Rodents in a house of decent people? Anemo, this is inadmissible! I will call pest control immediately! 

— I-I already called them, don't worry! They’re coming tonight, Anemo lied shamelessly. Let's rather help you unpack all the treats you brought me, my dear mother! 

— Not yet, Anemo! Don't rush! Any moment now, the cleaning crew I hired will be here. Please go out into the yard, it’s such a beautiful day! I’ll bring your breakfast there, and you can write there too! We’ll let the professionals do their job! 

Had it not been for the incident with the mouse, Anemo would have protested with all his might, but now... there was no room for protest.

*

Reunited by the flower bed, the three furry friends had hearts heavy with worry. Although they had eaten their portions of kibble served by Anemo’s Mother Lady, they were not at peace at all, and Mistral was neglecting his siesta (an absolute first). How could he think of a siesta when, in the new house, that would probably be the only thing allowed? 

— You, kid, you have no idea what awaits us! You have no clue what a museum is... or what it’s like to live in a porcelain exhibition...

 — What is a museum, Eol? What does Mistral mean by living in a po-por... exhibition?

 — A porcelain exhibition, or a museum, kid. Meaning places where there is no dust or mess. Places where things don't move, aren't disturbed, they are only looked at, Eol answered half-heartedly. Mistral looked toward the window where Mrs. Aura was busily wiping a pane. 

— I was there once, when I was little, like you... I had to stay still. Back then I didn't appreciate the siesta and meditation; I was a scatterbrain, just... like you. I stayed in Anemo's arms like a plush kitten, for fear of knocking over some Ming dynasty vase. Mon Dieu, what a horror!

 — Does th-that lady live at the museum? Sirocco asked in a small voice, already imagining how he would have to stand motionless, like a ginger statue, next to a vase full of porcelain flowers.