The stars seemed endless as they passed along the transparent surface of the dome overhead. The healthy blue grass felt good under his feet, but after so many years one started to feel the fatigue of it all. So much the same and so many tunes played over and over again. He'd once sat in a bar somewhere and heard the same song played in repetition so many times that the band members themselves didn't even realize what they were playing or who they were playing it for. That's how so many battles seemed nowadays, simply unending monotony. His stalk eyes had even now begun to look out at the stars, amazingly recognizing some and their Galard-given names. He had been to probably 2 percent of the systems he could name, but his intuition guaranteed the other 98% would be exactly the same. He knew on some far away planet they called this thing Ennui, it was a common feeling apparently for the deeply depressed. But he was no psychologist, he was andalite, and his ship carried him across the galaxy towards a planet he'd long forgotten.
The planet below looked habitable, but the scanners showed almost no sentient life, from the bridge the lower lip of the deck obscured most of the planet but he could see the small ring of ice at the very north of the sphere. Most of the plant-life was green which made the rest of the ecosystem quite boring and predictable. However, there was one small exception to the rule of this planet. He guessed somehow irregularities in the system-sun's emissions created some sort of temporal vortex that led unique people there, but on the other hand perhaps it was fate. His hands typed away with exceptional speed, another attribute that came to him in Ennui. At points he had even gone on to think about mundane topics such as the number of fingers on sentient species he knew. But that always led him to the Mal-shkir, who had an uneven amount of digits on each of their tendrils which could be called arms he supposed. Each topic had its exceptions, and this planet's exception was the small clearing with a building off to one side. It looked like a shack from miles above, but there were subtle clues to lead a careful eye down a different path.
His hooves clacked along the metal walkway, a small band of light slowly expanding in front of him. The horizontal line first became a rectangle and then expanded to an oval the size of his body, the fading white halo shifting into a green picturesque landscape. He had chosen this spot due to its distance from the other ships he had noticed. In his galactic boredom he had seen fit to equip his small dome-ship with just about any type of sensor you could think of. Most of them he detected in a short amount of time, however Myitt had chosen her spot carefully, not relying just on sensor jamming to cover her tracks. Applix finally stood on the planet's surface, the alien grass flowing up through his hooves and into his bloodstream, hearts pounding. His stalk eyes swiveled, nose twitched, and his ears fluttered at the sounds of distant flora. The green grass (which lie in patches where he stood) was not at all nutritious or flavorful, but sometimes you needed that little bit to shake you up, to get you out of the norm. He walked through a small break in the forest through a meadow, taking his time with his pulse beating the metronome.
The door looked unsubstantial, and his stalk eyes (seeing it from a slightly different standpoint) noticed even the frame had been chipped away from what memory held of this place. His feminine left hand reached out to grab the door across his torso and it seemed a lightning bolt reached from the pads of his fingers to his shoulder and then made its way down his legs. His tail darted up quickly, blade readying itself as memories of this place swarmed him. It was here he had been host to his wife Loraan, it was here he had realized the squander of his race. No race was perfect of course, but a white outline full of grace had been set on his race before and now only a darkened shadow remained in his memory of his kind. He didn't hate them of course, but no one was free from his suspicion now. His mind had been opened here (quite literally) and wounds he had received here marked his body even now.
Hesitance now reached his mind as he held onto the doorknob, his mind fluttering. He wondered quickly if he should morph, find out if anyone was inside before he entered. From there his right hand moved back to his waist, now realizing he had left all of his equipment back in his ship. He winced back for a moment, wondering if he shouldn't get it. But once all of this faded, he realized who he was and his anxiety drowned itself as he opened the door. The small crack of light flooded in to the generally poorly-lit bar, his large centaur-like body outlined in white. Details slowly flooded both sides of the picture, the bar becoming visible to him and the scar under his left eye slowly becoming visible to the occupants. His tail hovered over his shoulder, twitching as it reflected the light outside for a moment before eyes adjusted to the excess. He wasn't quite sure what to expect, or if anyone would even recognize. Of course there were those he'd wish wouldn't recognize him. Either way it was done, and his tail moved to shut the door behind him.
