Author's Note(AN): I would just like to state that I have explicit permission from my best friend, Ranuu, to use the name and character Ranuu. He gave me this permission, because I needed a bard to fit the part, and this character fit perfectly.

Song of a Story

Prologue:..

Dreams are endless, boundless, wondrous inventions. Dreams are a place to escape, a place to think, and to some a place to see. Science, however, has limits. It has laws, held in constant check by equations of sorts upon sorts. So lets, in a change of pace, combine the two. Dreams into science, and science into dreams. Take the barriers away from the minds of the great thinkers. Let the world blossom in the same way as the mind of a dreamer. Then, truly, learning can begin.

The seats in the waiting room were full of people, simple chairs lined up against simple white walls with simple lives seated within them. Many had come, most simply in the need of money, some out of curiosity, yet still some to quench a thirst for adventure, for change. So many had come...yet only one family was chosen. From the waiting room erupted a long, empty hallway. At the end of this hallway there was a pair of double doors, through which was the laboratory where was kept the reason that so many had gathered. Those chosen, a family of two, were inside speaking to a man in a white lab coat. A woman, holding a clipboard, and obviously pregnant. A man, standing by her side, and obviously married.

“It's perfectly safe, Mrs. Niigata.” came the professional reassurances uttered from the scientist. “The child won't be harmed.”

“Yes, but...” the father-to-be began, “What is it you'll be doing?” Here, the woman looked up as well. Curiosity was strewn about her furrowed features.

“As you'll read, that information is strictly confidential. All I can offer is the knowledge that your child will not be harmed.” more reassurances, more professionalisms. The mother faltered in her choice, staring at the typed agreement before her, writing utensil poised above the dotted line.

“Hiroshi...” naught but a whisper, gaining the man's attention easily “The money.” He did not seem convinced.

“Our child, Rea.” he pleaded. “Is money so important?”

Rea turned her gaze upwards, meeting the plea with a silent rebuttal of her own, and then bringing words into the equation. “Without the money, we can't...support a child. Without it, we'll have to...give it up.” Before he could retaliate again, she moved the pen across the paper. Hiroshi's gaze seemed to falter, one part inside fighting another, one part not easily swayed. Another look from his wife, and one part failed.

“Alright...” uttered softly, “Alright.” another signature offered. Second consent, with a third unspoken for. A third unable to speak.

The scientist smiled, cruelly amused. “Your payment will come in the mail within five to six business days after the procedure. Mrs. Niigata, if you come this way, the fetal injection will be given in the room behind me.” the clipboard was taken swiftly from the hands the held it, Rea led away, Hiroshi left to wait. A signature was all it took. Something so simple...to destroy something so fragile, before even given a chance to begin.

.: - - - :.

“I enjoy stories, you see.” spoke one voice, lost to most in the tavern around where it originated from. A tavern was rare in most places in this time, as most were referred to as bars, or clubs; but this was not a big city, or a small town. It was a city yet not a city, little known of to most unless one were to come across it in travels, perhaps see the name on a map and become curious as to what place in modern day society would have such a name. Raggana, a word that meant nothing. Letters brought together to form one word, as the people of this city were brought together to form one community. “I hear them, collect them. I tell them to others.” the voice went on.

Outside, it was raining. The sky as gray as the streets and buildings below. Most of the inhabitants chose to stay at home, while others ventured out to enjoy the feel of water falling upon them, and still others traveled to their favorite hideaway. For the most part, the city was made of houses and apartments. There was a park in the center, with two large buildings on opposite sides. On one side, the Fletching Orphanage. On the other, All Saints' Tavern. “I watch people, sometimes. I look for someone interesting to talk to. Think of something interesting to ask.” Further from the park there was an area with stores filled with necessities. A single road exiting the city, with other smaller ones strewn throughout. This was a city only by definition, and a town by life.

“When I see someone, I wonder.” the voice tolled inside the tavern. From a booth in the far corner, a back to the majority of the room, a face looking towards the one across from it. Blond hair fell in tussled locks by blue eyes looking deep, clothing that showed class, expression that showed caring. This was the speaker. The listener kept to the shadows of a heavy coat and hood. “I wonder what their story is. Some have one to tell. And you...” here there was a pause. “You seem like someone with a story to tell.” a friendly smile was given. “My name is Ranuu, if you don't mind a humble introduction, Ranuu Chael. I am the entertainment at this tavern. Might I be so bold to ask a name in return?”

Hesitance at first, a debate to speak. Then, “My name is something dear.” this voice held a feminine tone, the owner lifting her gaze enough to reveal an uncommon golden color, the pupils unnaturally slit. Skin, if it could be called such, a pale color, almost white. “Call me what you want for now. I have...no reason to tell you otherwise.” A slow blink was offered as if in question. “What else do you want to ask me?”

“Why are you here?” the reply was given quickly enough, Ranuu's curiosity wishing to soak up the story that dripped from this being. “Our city is so small, insignificant to most. Why would you come, and stay? What is...your life story?”

Her gaze fell for a moment, in thought, before she brought it to meet his yet again. “You want to hear it...only so you can tell others? My story is more precious, it's private. I don't want the world to know.” another pause, a softening of her eyes. “...not yet.”

“Then my lips are sealed, Miss. You have my word.” the promise was offered in earnest. “I will not tell your story if you do not wish it. But my mind thirsts to hear. Pray, will you tell it?” the way he spoke was strange, especially in such an age and time. It fit the job he held, just as the place of this job fit this strange city, the city that did not fit the rest of the world.

Here there was a greater pause, a deeper thought. To tell would be to trust. To trust...to trust again, would be difficult. “I lived here. Not so long ago. I...grew up here. Across the park. That's why I'm here. I wanted...to see if it was different. If it'd changed. Maybe...” she paused here, looking up to the kind gaze of the bard. “If I tell you my story, you can tell me if things are different. So yes, I'll tell you. Just...make sure you listen.”