From the Worlds in my Head:
They were about her age: one blonde and tall with the cares of the world settled into the lines of her face; one black-haired and petite with her head on the blonde’s shoulder. She appeared innocent enough as to seem much younger than she was. Their skin was white like frosted glass, with a hint of transparency. They were Silmn, the first Michal had seen in several years. Certainly they were the only ones she’d seen since arriving in the canyons who had not been already made into statues. Michal thought she recognized flight uniform trousers on the blonde, while the other wore a simple skirt. Both wore long-sleeved black shirts and slept with their arms folded across their stomachs.
“Don’t bother with them, they’re completely insane.” Kelakelal had come silently right up behind her, and she jumped when he spoke.
“But they’re so peaceful...”
“Look at the chair. You think I did that?” He turned back towards the lab and Michal followed. It was full of shelves and cabinets, and her first impression was of cables, gears, and chrome.
“You certainly made me angry enough to destroy furniture.” She looked around the lab with more than slight interest. “I’d destroy you first though.”
“Michal, you restore my faith in people with your refreshing honesty. I’ll always know where I stand with you.”
“I don’t know enough about this subterranean funhouse to lie.” She peered at a shelf slightly above eye level. “Is that what I think it is?”
“The fire control from a Silmn space fighter, yes. Those girls back there jumped cosms somehow and their craft blasted a crater through a whole residential warren when it embedded itself in the rock under full throttle. They killed over a hundred Elementals, and what’s more, they know it. I’m afraid the younger one is rather tender hearted.” He was bustling around a stool of some sort, attaching wires and probes according to some scheme Michal could not decipher. “Frankly, I don’t think she was quite all there to begin with.”
“And the elder?” Michal glanced over her shoulder at him. “You know, I could help you if you’d undo my wrists.”
“Nice try, but no.” He screwed a set of lenses onto his goggles and kept working. “The blonde was the pilot. They’re inseparable, you saw that. She was caught under a bit of rubble with a statue embedded. It was three days of the Rockmasons invoking away the rubble before we found her, trapped face to face under that statue screaming into her mind.” He gave a cruel laugh. “Really, they’re useless.”
“Why keep them around then? Send them to the lights, or whatever they call it.”
He looked at her like she had two heads — this was clear even through the mask and goggles. “They’re xenos. I’m the Royal Xenomason. I have to have xenos to mace or else my title’s fairly pointless, isn’t it?”