Trubeau Magic Emporium

[Toilynn "Sierra" Trubeau]

[This is just to say, the TME rests just outside of Station Square, closer to the Mystic Ruins as the establishment sits on a seaside cliff. |D]

Tall columns of smoke and ash rose skyward, each as solid as a tree trunk and hundreds of times as broad. The metallic stack that spewed the smog arrived in what had been a matter of hours; it was how long it had taken for Robotnik to seize the city. Station Square, once a popular and populated center of culture and adventure, had become a barren throne for a decrepit madma- and that wasn't all. It seemed the whole planet had been plunged into disarray, and the world-shift's effects had hit far too close to home.

The Trubeaus were gone: almost the entire family, or maybe everyone else; she really didn't know who had been shifted to who-knew-where...

... Her own mother definitely wasn't answering the phone, figuratively speaking.

Sierra sighed, turning from the grim scene outside. The waning daylight cast an eerie, bluish-grey hue around the space, which had, in recent times, seemed richly illuminated by the once-constant liveliness within. Long shadows crawled across the floorboards, which were already blanketed in a light layer of dust, and the myriad tables and shelves of magical goods no longer seemed to radiate with their mischeivous, arcane auras. The Trubeau Magic Emporium had all but died with its flow of clientele.

Something had to be done. Sierra took one glance around her store, straightened her hat and flattened out her clothes; she wore a long, orange sweater with too-long sleeves, a piece that could have easily been a dress with the proper tailoring, and black shorts somewhere under the knit top. Her usual dress, or skirt, was gone; she needed something more practical!

"Alright," she finally huffed, raising her hands to the still room. A low mumble escaped from her muzzle as her fingers seemed to twitch and swing like ten little batons before a grand orchestra. A sudden whirl of air announced her targets' arrival; from a staircase at the back of the store, several white sheets flew into the room, each as silent as a ghost and just as graceful. The large drapes came to a halt, floating over one table or shelf or another, before Sierra's enchantment ended and they settled atop the displays, leaving no ware uncovered.

"Oh, I guess we're really leaving, then?" a familiar voice quipped. The black and bleached-white form of Nero appeared at the witch's feet, and she looked down at the skeleton dog with a smile.

"Yup!"

"Can't we stay another day?"

"Nope!" Sierra chuckled, trotting toward the stairs. A rhythmic clacking announced that her trusty familiar was following close behind her. "We have to go now, my dearest Nerry-Berry!"

"I'd kill you if it weren't suicide."

"Oh, Nero; it's the thought that counts!" They reached the landing, Sierra again raising her hand and gesturing to a small rucksack. The bag floated from its place against another shelf- the store was two stories, you see- and dropped onto Nero's skull, just as more sheets again blanketed every display. Sierra crossed the room, reaching a large, bay window in no time at all. Her hand rested on the lock as she stared through the glass. "Robotropolis" glared back. With a sigh, the young dhole twisted the lock, and out swung the panes.

It didn't take long for the pheonix to rush past, the heat of their fiery beings buffeting Sierra as she stepped out of the way. Next went the three dragons and their latest batch of young, each baby squeaking and flapping hysterically.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Nero whined from under the bag.

"I can't lock them up in here while we're gone. They'll come back when we do," Sierra replied, shutting and locking the window. "Speaking of which, we'd better get going."

[Toilynn "Sierra" Trubeau]

Sierra locked the door behind her, one hands shouldering a broom, which also had a rucksack slung on one end like a hobo's pack. Nero stood behind her, tail wagging slowly as his head turned toward the city.

"Sierra," he ruffed, ears flicking forward. The dhole followed his gaze, her own ears standing on end under her hat. "Were they there before?"

Steel clouds floated in the air, each blazoned with Eggman's betraying grin, and a loud hum filled the area as hundreds of engines pushed the ships down whatever warpath they'd been sent on. A chill ran down both canine's spines as one of the craft's shadow cast the area into darkness.

"Ah, I wonder where they're going?" Nero mumbled, head cocking to one side.

"Soleanna," Sierra sighed, ears lowering.

"How do you know?"

"Well, they're headed in the same direction we are. It makes sense doesn't it?"

Silence.

"And we're still going?!"

Sierra slung her backpack onto her shoulders, hopped onto her broom, and hovered in place, grinning at the skeleton dog. Of course they were going; it was the best shot there was of fixing things. Soleanna was still free, still able to fight back, and seemingly the only place on Earth still able to hold such claims. They had to go, had to try and do something, Eggman warships or not...

So Erra grinned, shrugging off an impending sense of doom, and nodded to her familiar.

"Yup!"

[To cross country <3]