In which Potato together strong.

Everything was quiet inside the dark room save for the soft waves of breathing coming from the pile of sleeping (ex-human) xenos, the trio huddled together for warm and safety. You would think one of them was awake, given a pair of amber eyes remained open and present in the darkness like starlights gazing at the never-ending void. He was not. He just happened to have an extra pair of eyes he could not close due to his new species’ quirk. That said, one of the trio did awake in the silence of their existence.

Cecil Potato Noodle was still tired like his brothers, but his guilt-ridden mind did not let him rest despite his best efforts, so he gave up after a while and reopened his eyes to stare at the vast expanse that can only be seen in a dark enclosed space.

A part of him thought his brother Paul was awake, given his extra pair of open eyes were “looking at him” (they were not, since they look at everything), and he wanted to talk to someone about his worries. But his judgment was lucid enough to restrain himself and let the Karnakian sleep in bliss. He was sure that was the right thing to do, after all.

Besides, Alistair was also sleeping. He deserved to rest after overworking himself following his encouragement that last month.

His encouragement…

Cecil was thinking about their bond and how it affected him, both for good and bad.

On one hand, he had the feeling they had made him a better person, more empathic than how he was with his own family (if he could remember them beyond a blur) and capable of learning so many things just to remain human. By virtue of being more careful with their everyday experience, they had put their trust on him as their “defacto” leader, leaving the weight of most decisions on his shoulders. This made him feel special, needed, and he sincerely wished to do well for their sake. But, on the other hand, he had never been a leader, and being put in such position for the first time often ends with more pain before wisdom is found.

He was not the smartest nor most knowledgeable, he knew that. So, he based their new physical routine on what the prior scientists had taught them since the beginning, thinking that he could just modify a few things and it would be fine. His brothers seemed to support this line of thinking, since they followed his encouragement everyday regardless of how difficult or tiring things could get. But, the seemingly positive effects amongst them may have blinded him to the impending negative effects, and his new found pride of being leader certainly distracted him from listening to more experienced voices outside his own.

“They were already exhausted by the third week.” He recognized in his thoughts. “I just kept dragging them with me because I thought I knew better. But even I wanted to give up.” He closed his eyes in reluctant weariness, wishing he could forget and sleep. The recent confrontation with the officers (which he never identified, only felt off) didn’t help his peace of mind.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

How do they do it?

How does someone wake up one day and say “I’m ready to be a leader”?

Cecil wished he knew, because he felt he was taking a responsibility he did not earn, a responsibility that could reach far more terrible consequences if he did not do the right thing from the start. But that was his fear speaking now.

…There was a movement in the darkness.

A gentle paw reached for Cecil and caressed his back scales with tenderness, and upon feeling it, he saw Alistair’s amber eyes gaze upon his.

“(What’s wrong?)” Gestured his mute Dorarizin Brother, the darkness unable to cover their bond.

“(Nothing.)” Gestured Cecil back, years of mutual interaction having taught him sign language as well. He didn’t want to worry his brother. “(Get some sleep.)”

“(Not without you.)”

“(It’s ok, I just can’t sleep right now.)”

“(No, I feel you are troubled.)”

“(So do I.)” Joined a third claw.

Paul was awake, his four pair of amber eyes now gazing towards Cecil too.

“(I…)” Gestured the Jornissian in search for an excuse, before his brothers’ collective gaze made him understand he couldn’t hide from them. “(…Have I been too harsh on you?)”

“(No.)” Gestured both without a doubt.

“(Would you tell me if I ever was?)”

“(Yes. What troubles you?)”

“(…I worry I have led you astray.)” Gestured Cecil, eyes losing strength. “(I’m not a good leader.)”

“(So what?)” Gestured Paul defiant. “(We follow you because we care for you. You might get us in, but we can get you out.)”

“(We may be having a bit of trouble.)” Gestured Alistair with a calm smile, caressing his brothers back. “(But we are still here, together. There’s always a chance to change.)”

“(Yeah.)” Paul gave him a playful fist nudge. “(If something worries you, just change it. Don’t let it eat ya, Sweatysock.)”

Cecil chuckled at his brothers, feeling his (unwittingly) self-imposed weight getting lesser. He was far from feeling a confident leader, but so what? They wanted him to be at peace, who was he to deny their wish?

“(Thanks, guys.)” He smiled wearily but relieved. “(I feel better now.)”

“(Good.)” Gestured Paul, suddenly turning to let himself fall over his serpentine brother (who let out an oof). “Now coil up, I need a pillow.” He whispered sleepy.

Cecil complied, letting his coils soften Paul’s rest. Alistair took the opportunity to use Paul as his pillow, and in a calculated move, he positioned himself in such a way that Cecil could use him as his fluffy pillow. And the three became potato pillows.

“Goodnightguysh.”