The neon hum of the "Aether & Ore" tavern was the only thing louder than Jax’s nerves. In the dive bars of the Lower Rings, people didn't just hang out; they coalesced like oil on water.
"You have the drive?" Kaelen whispered, leaning in. His eyes darted toward the door, where a pair of Enforcers were hassling a street vendor. [S1E2] Birds of a Feather
Jax, a scrawny mechanic with grease permanently etched into his cuticles, sat across from Kaelen. Kaelen was a High-Flyer, a literal citizen of the floating Upper Spire. He wore silks that cost more than Jax’s entire workshop, yet here he was, nursing a glass of fermented sludge in the slums. The neon hum of the "Aether & Ore"
A crash at the door ended the philosophy lesson. The Enforcers had spotted them. His eyes darted toward the door, where a
"Birds of a feather," Jax muttered, echoing an old proverb his grandfather used. "We aren't the same, Jax," Kaelen countered.
"No? We’re both sitting in a basement, hiding from the same police, trying to keep a world from ending. If we're both flying toward the same sun, does it matter whose wings are real and whose are scrap metal?"