The male raised a brow at his assistant, her shrug meeting his own skepticism. “You mean to claim that your disappearance was due to the pursuit of an unproven medical procedure provided by aliens we are still in the process of learning about? You had no proof such would work, yet gnawed at the shackle to receive it. You also abandoned your duty to do so.”
The contained female barely flinched. “Where was hope supposed to stem from when even breath proved too great a struggle? I am aware it was foolish, but they offered what my own could not. I accepted the risk willingly.”
Heroon exhaled. “And after the operation?”
= = = = =
Sunundra awoke, but not in the chamber she had vague memories of, nor any recovery room that would be expected—though that meant little when the extent of modifications to her form were unknown. Truthfully, she hadn’t asked how the procedure was done, nor questioned much at all; she just moved from place to place with alacrity and was too busy holding back tears of joy to doubt anything.
All she recalled was being carried through blurry hallways as the anaesthetic pulled a thick wool over her perception of moments fading in and out, and agreeing to participate in a cohabitation trial as payment for the procedure—a price that even now seemed far too lenient. Pressure on her arms had suggested that others were supporting most of her weight, but she barely had the cognizance to pay it much mind at the time, nor notice the subtle pain that radiated from every part of her body at once.
Said pain returned as she rolled on what appeared to be a fairly small bed, though it was still blissfully dulled. A loose inspection of her body unveiled no cuts or sutures, her head was as unmarred as before, and the sting wasn’t localized to any particular region. Either the procedure was incredibly noninvasive, or any incisions were done internally, such as her nasal cavity or the like. Regardless, it was possibly more important to determine her whereabouts than ponder that which she had no answer to.
A few blinks cleared her vision enough to pick out the environment, pale grey walls and ceiling contrasted by a soft carpeting similar in colour to her front. The faded pastel yellow was an odd choice, but alien architecture may very well call for alien interior decorating as well. Four walls constructed the rectangular room, a flat ceiling feeling somewhat suffocating with how low it was, but there was plenty of space before she could touch it, she supposed. Perhaps it could be reached from atop the bed?
Her eyes fell to the furniture she was occupying. The boxy resting spot was fairly soft and seemed to be of two parts; the top was spongy, while the bottom was a solid wood of some kind, though a strange brownish-yellow as opposed to any reds she was used to. It matched the rest of the assorted items in the room, but it hardly fit the ‘scientific’ aesthetic one might expect. A standing closet sat in a corner, the slightly open door offering little knowledge other than that it was empty. A...cabinet? No, it was an old design of dresser, wide and rife with drawers for storage, two cupboards on the lower half allowing space for larger items.
A desk followed the strange obsession with rectangular shapes, two legs supporting the front of the surface whereas the back was mounted to the wall. A chair with wheels at the base and a curvy backrest struck her as poorly designed until she realized that it was likely designed for species without tails.
All the sharp angles and focus on ease of manufacturing irked her somewhat; having grown used to sheer ergonomic design and a philosophy of using as little material as possible made everything appear dreadfully wasteful. She expected things to be adjustable or modular to allow varying sizes of Lilhun—or in this case, species—to comfortably work atop the surfaces or store whatever they like, but the focus here was quite obviously a ‘one size fits none’ mentality.
She exhaled slowly so as not to aggravate the dull throbbing in her head and got off the bed, frowning when there was an uncomfortable thud of her digitigrade ankle hitting the solid surface of the frame. A new ache added to the rest, she dropped the slight distance to the floor and began further inspections, ignoring the obvious exit until an understanding of her current surroundings had been reached.
If nothing else, the simplistic design of everything allowed little to be misconstrued. It was a boxy room with equally boxy furniture, given ingress by a boxy door. The knob was spherical, so at least that was a change of pace. A giggle escaped her lips as the dregs of her chemically induced rest filtered through her system. That, or she was still riding the elation of her prayers being answered.
...She paused while laughing at the pitiful impracticality of the dresser, closing the empty drawer with a forced silence.
She... She was fixed now, right? She could approach others, right? There was no reason to meticulously plan her sun to avoid as many people as possible...right? It was over?
No more twisted scowls as her strongest perfumes wore off woefully early? No more bitter dismissals to polite greetings? No more exaggerated gagging when all she wanted to do was eat? No more locking herself away for suns at a time in fear of aggravating friends she had yet to meet?
Pain flared as the last of the drugs keeping it down faded, yet her tears and cries were filled with joy, the ripping agony only a secondary concern. She could talk to people without them ending conversations as soon as they were able! She could touch another without being met by revulsion! Every bitter memory washed against the sands of her new revelation, eroding to the inconsequential as hope replaced them with glimmering golds and stunning silvers. Her oceans of sorrow cleared to waters of prosperity, promises unfulfilled returning to smile down upon her.
She was fixed... Her defective body was no more. If such treatments were to cost every bit of her savings, then she would still happily pay it. For it to be in exchange for her time and assisting her people’s acquisition of an ally? In exchange for this temporary physical suffering?
Well, that was hardly a price at all.
She glanced around the room through gasped breaths, finding her bag to be deposited at the foot of the bed on the floor. Her everything screamed its protest as she crawled, yet it was drowned out by brighter thoughts. The painkillers were a must-have item, and several doses had been packed for various applications. The one she needed first was a short-activation injection, the cover of the syringe popping off before the rest plunged into her thigh. The agony dulled instantly, allowing her a moment to dig out a longer lasting solution. The clear patch she fetched was small, but potent. A claw placed it under her tongue, holding it there for the moment or two required before it sealed to the flesh.
Heartbeats passed until all that remained was a slight discomfort. It was unwise to use too many of her supplies—though overdosing was hardly a concern, building a tolerance would be counterproductive. Pain sorted and her initial joy tempering to a generally pleasant disposition, she mused unpacking, but there was still a chance this was a strange waiting area. She opted to put everything back in her bag for now, then see what lay beyond the confines of the room.
The knob clicked out an odd tone, but the way forward opened all the same. Instead of hallways or a reception area, she was greeted by another room that took design cues from the previous, though was quite a bit larger.
A wide couch of sorts was in the middle of the room, facing a screen that continued the rectangular theme. At least the seating had more gentle slopes and radii, making it look actually somewhat comfortable. A table with some stiffer chairs was placed against the far wall next to an archway leading to another area. There were three other doors, but one sported a different material, so that was likely the exit. The remaining two revealed a bedroom much like the one she awoke in, and a bathing area that had a rigid toilet. Something of a kitchen rested beyond the archway, though she decided to leave the details to be discovered later; cupboards and tall appliances were enough information for now.
Curiosity sated, the next step was to access the exit, but she could only frown when there didn’t seem to be a method to open it. The other doors all had knobs, and though they were inferior to vertical slats with pressure-sensitive levers, they were infinitely more usable than the flat metal surface she was met with now.
Her attention was drawn back to the ‘main’ area which acted as a hub for the rest. A small table was in front of the couch, and various shelving was installed on the grey walls, but for all the storage it offered, she didn’t have much to put there. All in all, it struck her as a small den, which could very well be the intention. It was both exciting and disappointing that she was locked in for some reason, because it had been her dream for a long time to have a den to call her own.
She could almost picture others meandering around the room and spending time together, smiling faces beckoning her forth to participate in whatever activity caused the playful atmosphere. The beds were too small for any typical sleeping arrangement, but if both she had access to were placed together, they could likely fit four people on it. Not terribly accommodating for most Lilhun dens, but acceptable enough for her, since she had long since stopped praying for too much and resigned herself to even a single other to share with. The assumed limit of four was already beyond her wildest dreams at this point.
Yet she was fixed, and allowed herself the small greed of imagining a den-pack large enough to find such circumstances to be insufficient. A giggle was stifled by her paw as she wondered if however the cohabitation worked would allow her to finally know what it was to rest with others, a bead of warmth growing in her chest.
The other race occupying the space might need the other bed though... That brought her hopeful maximum of den-mates to rest with closer to maybe three—still more than she would have wished, but less than absolutely possible, which was a minor letdown.
There also existed the possibility that the aliens might desire the second bed themselves, but for the sake of diplomacy—and repaying the kindness shown—a flat bedding would be possible if they were given the appropriate materials. Then the uppermost limit would be however many would fill the floor, and she would happily accept that!
Speaking of aliens or a den-pack, she had yet to encounter either in the den provided to her—assuming this was indeed where they were to reside for the duration of her participation. It reminded her that she also wasn’t sure how long that would be...
No matter! Just the prospect of what awaited her after this was enough to dismiss her concern swiftly. If nothing else, then she wished that the aliens were polite and would refrain from making a fuss. That way they could all return to their people and begin broader cooperation with the Union. A part of her worried that they might be particularly revolting, but the memory of being the one others regarded with such faces sobered her thoughts.
Regardless, there would at least be an effort to politely distance herself; it was the bare minimum she had always wanted, and none would humour such wishes before. She was understanding of that. If all went well, then their new allies would appreciate the sentiment, and she might even be credited for her tact.
Her exit locked and general surroundings explored, all that remained was to return to the room she assumed was assigned to her people. Her possessions were unpacked while being mindful to leave apt space for the possible three others. Wishful thinking or not, just looking at her neat and orderly display of things next to the empty sections brought a tickle to her heart.
She couldn’t wait to meet the others.
= = = = =
The High Quesitar ordered a break, Illia thanking him with a smile as they sent a request for food to be provided. The beige-furred female clenched and flexed her paws to work out the mild discomfort from working on a physical transcription while Heroon simply stretched his back, sore from leaning forward to speak into the intercom.
For all that the captive STO had mentioned, very little of it had much to do with specifics of the aliens involved, nor even where on the temporarily shared border-planet the events took place. Something that irked him even more was that not a single readout of his equipment picked up any spikes to indicate a falsehood—which both worried him and gave some measure of credibility to the limited happenings described.
To willingly submit one’s form to the machinations of an alien people was already a questionable decision—to do so only to awake as a captive was just plain alarming. Yet the female seemed ecstatic at the time, her primary concern being how many den-mates she would be accommodating.
As far as he could gather, she genuinely found nothing suspicious about it, only her slight inflection revealing that she was saddened by her assumptions proving to be incorrect in the end. A curious take on things, but not unexpected once one considered her condition.
His musing was disrupted by a panel opening in the containment’s table, a basic meal presented to the allegedly broken female. He watched with an observant gaze as she barely acknowledged it, having since returned to the corpse-like posture she had assumed when he initially saw her. His and Illia’s food was delivered by paw, though done through a hidden airlock in the wall by the door. His den-mate was kind enough to fetch it for them.
They ate in relative silence as he mulled over what he heard so far, idly navigating his terminal with a claw while he connected timelines and reports together to make a cohesive narrative.
True to her assertion, the disappearance of the defect in the base went unnoticed until she was required for a deployment, and even then it was only because the STO had never missed a summons previously. The grievance was filed by her direct superior, though the language used was a very professional phrasing of ‘thank the goddess she’s gone,’ followed by a request for another demolition expert to be supplied. There wasn’t even an investigation put in, disregarding the one that listed both start and end times within a breath of each other—the result of someone simply submitting the corresponding triggers in sequence without bothering to pretend something was actually done.
The female left without a soul noticing, arrived at a location that the military couldn’t be bothered to actually supervise—presumably due to the same lack of concern for defectives present in the aforementioned ‘search’—and was missing for quite a while until even that was shrugged off.
Normally, he wouldn’t care much, but his station required him to highlight all of it and submit it for review and correction. If he wasn’t under so many layers of obfuscation and procedures, he might have worried about others leering at him for making their protocols tighter. As things were, he would just shake his head as the ranks were dragged over the coals for negligence.
He wiped off his paws with the provided cleaning wipe before depositing it with the rest of the recyclable items, his hunger sated for the time being. Illia was finished a short while after, tossing her things in with his then depositing it in the appropriate receptacle for processing. She stretched her arms out and resumed her stance, nodding that she was ready to continue.
His attention returned to the unmoving female, letting a light sigh out at her food remaining as it was, untouched and ignored. He elected to leave it there for now on the off chance that she might find an appetite later. He doubted it, but it was the small considerations such as that which might encourage otherwise stalwart denials to let slip truth. He reached out to the intercom once more.
“You mentioned being ‘fixed’ and ruminating about arrangements for others to reside in the den provided, yet have failed to elaborate past that. I would like to hear about the others of our kind you stayed with.”
The grey and yellow-furred female remained unmoving, only her muzzle shifting for speech and a sardonic smirk. “I never claimed there to be any.”
The High and Assistant Quesitars shared a look. “The operation was a ruse?”
“No,” she whispered. “It worked, just not as I had hoped.”
He referenced his readouts with a frown. “Explain.”
= = = = =
She blinked herself awake once more, her waning optimism disregarded in favour of applying another numbing patch to her tongue. The pain had lessened over the suns, but it was still enough to debilitate her if management of it was neglected. She glanced at a small display on the wall acting as an unreliable timepiece of sorts.
The almost invisible panel presented a symbol that was presumably a three. It would roughly correlate to how many times she had fallen asleep in the den, but her internal clock disagreed with the supposed count. There was a chance that it tracked how often she rested, but it also seemed to increment for no discernible reason, so that theory was disregarded. Her recovery was briefly pondered to be the culprit for a potential sun count not matching what she suspected, but the lack of windows or any other cyclical illumination was beginning to mess with any attempts to keep track.
The lights in the room remained off from the ‘moon’ prior, the missing supplemental glow present in any Lilhun construction leaving her with no guess as to how long she had been sleeping this time. The lights from the main room subtly bled through a crack beneath the door, so she wasn’t completely blind, but her vision was still rather hindered. Thankfully, it was enough to put on the clothing hung in the closet to dry.
The bath here was actually more of a shower—which suited her just fine, honestly. It made washing her garments tedious, but until she could divine a somehow unnoticed appliance to perform the task, she was fine with using the smaller basin and spigot to clean her few articles.
Once she was dressed and had put away the fragments of tinkering which remained from the moon before, a smile spread at seeing the room equally as ready for new occupants as it was the first time she cleaned it. The smile faltered as she pushed down the feeling of isolation, but still she held faith, setting about her self-assigned tasks in hopes that this would be the sun to meet the others. At this point, even greeting the aliens would be welcome. Sure, some aspects of their communication or expectations may be incompatible, but anything would help distract her from the tugging in her chest.
Her expression was firmly placed back to what it should be. There would be nothing but shame in forgetting the basics, especially now that she might finally show results for all her practice.
The kitchen was more complicated than she initially suspected, but well stocked for what it was. Various meats had been tried in small amounts to account for possible allergies to the unknown animals, and she even sampled the strange vegetables and fruit. More familiar offerings were present, but ignoring something new felt like a disservice to whomever provided it. The only disliked items so far were the somewhat fluffy, yeasty things, and that was due to the stomach ache it gave her. She had waited each bout out and tried the variants, but the results remained the same.
Since it was more or less determined that a few of the options were perfectly edible, she selected some and prepared a simple meal, eating it at the table in the main room and cleaning up when she was done. The machine for washing her plates and oddly shaped cutlery was amusing to watch, so she did, then fetched one of her less messy projects to work on while lounging on the couch.
Thus repeated the events she had spent the last two or so suns doing. Her ears pivoted and twitched, looking for the sounds of someone approaching the door or traversing the possible halls beyond it, but either the soundproofing was excellent, or few had reason to come near.
The pang of loneliness hit hard enough to bypass her moment of reflection, ignoring the painkillers and optimism she held close to her bruised heart.
How much longer would it be until she met her den-pack? Did the others hear of her previous condition and assume nothing had been done? Was she to call out and alert someone that she was ready? Was she under observation to watch for side effects?
If it was the last one, then she supposed she could wait just a bit longer so that others might be saved from the plight of the defect, but she couldn’t deny that it was beginning to become difficult to pretend that the perpetual silence wasn’t getting to her.
A crack between her paws snapped her ears forward, followed by her eyes searching for the source. The staged explosive she was working on had broken along a seam in her stress. Not a permanent problem, but one that would take some time to repair. She exhaled slowly as her mind went over the sequence.
A thermal charge to rapidly heat a material, a ripper—a series of small explosions—to chip and distort, a sub-thermal charge to pull and rapidly cool, then a thumper to take advantage of the stress fractures. It was absolute overkill for most anything, but she had been curious about the minimum size such a breach-bomb could take the form of, and had so far managed to fit it into a package about as small as her stomach. Still larger than practical to use on deployment, but it was still in the conceptual phase, so she was certain she could get it down to about the dimensions of her paw. The main issue was getting both thermo-disruptors to detonate without subsequently—
A low-pitched screech jolted her in her seat, her scrambling only barely catching the explosive before it fell to the floor. It was still inert, but it only took one mistake like that to learn why you shouldn’t drop bombs where you didn’t intend to—once you did, it was hardly your problem anymore.
She laid the project on the smaller table in front of the couch before the noise repeated, this time not causing her to do much more than flinch. She glanced at the doorway without a handle, text having populated an in-built display while she was busy.
She read what was presented on the unexpected screen after all but leaping across the room, struggling through what appeared to be a rather poor translation of the original message. It cited a time based on an unfamiliar system, but a rough bit of math gave her an estimate to work with—assuming she was correct on the numerals and the division of them.
Regardless, it seemed that she was going to be sent to meet with others in a specific room, then she would be introduced to her cohabitants sometime after. Her estimations grew hazy for the second due to the first two numerals resetting for some reason, but that confusion was swiftly aside for now.
The moment she confirmed that her assumptions regarding the numbers were correct, she blitzed back to her room, only barely remembering to tuck away the explosives before doing a final tidy, double-checking that she had nothing stuck in her teeth, then giving her fur a quick brush. She bounced on the pads of her feet in front of the door as the displayed time approached the first listing.
- - - - -
Despite her surprise, she accepted that there was an expectation of navigating the corridors unguided. Unorthodox, but it was arranged by aliens, and a map of directions had been supplied on the door before she was set loose on the unpopulated passageways. The idea of writing it down tempted her, but there would be little benefit; the instructions were easy enough to follow.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
While properly taking in the building during her walk, it became apparent that she was either quite close to the centre of a broad structure, or that she was exceptionally deep below the surface—her memory providing nothing as far as an explanation besides vague and blurry snapshots before the procedure. That was fine. She had been fixed, and was more than happy to ask which way to go when needed.
Strangely enough, there didn’t seem to be much in the way of other rooms along the route, but she also wasn’t particularly looking for them. Seams of flush doorways would be found if she bothered to really inspect the otherwise featureless walls, surely, yet now was not the time.
Her traversal ended once she reached a dead end, the smooth finish on the narrow wall giving her little to work with. A video transmission device may have rested above in the corner, but with only the expectations of her own species’ technology, it could very well have been anything. She wasn’t given the chance to ponder it for long until the wall silently receded, two halves sliding sideways and revealing another room. The mechanism of the entrance was different from the inward swing that her temporary den used to access the rest of the building, but she supposed it would be more strange to never develop more than one way to open a door.
The secrecy was somewhat strange however.
The new area was surprisingly small, consisting of barely enough room to lay down in one direction, and maybe a bit more than twice that in the other. The only notable feature was that it was equally divided into two parts by a porous glass or plastic barrier.
‘Porous’ because it was visibly ventilated, but also because the slightly frosty translucence didn’t seem to be due to any particular treatment, leaving her to wonder if it was the product of an additional layer. The back of her claw travelled smoothly over it, so she supposed that any extras were on the other side, or perhaps the glass-like divider was instead two thin sheets on either side of something. A tap of her claw against the surface suggested the latter.
Her curious inspection was interrupted by excess light illuminating the room, a shadow showing on the icy pane in front of her. She choked back the explosive excitement—eager to make a nice and calm first impression—then took a deep breath to relax herself, noting the dry quality of overly controlled air. Her smile threatened to slip after confirming that the only thing she could smell was the scent of sanitizers and sterile stagnation. Luckily, the other figure fully entering their side of the room was enough to put her smile back where it should be.
Everything would be fine as long as she remembered to be polite, be respectful, use the proper honorifics, and even if it went poorly, she was fixed, and nothing said every new person would like her now. Even a single pleasant interaction would be the first step towards a lifetime of them.
Her enthusiasm stalled as fear surfaced past her optimism.
Why was she meeting them one at a time? Was this something of an interview process where she was the final applicant? What if they said no to her inclusion? Would she be forced to wait in her temporary den again? What if they were all looking for somewhere to stay, and would rather have nowhere than somewhere she resided? What if she as a person was equally repelling, her defect no longer acting as an early deterrent? Could she take the rejection? Could she stand to be alone?
She closed her eyes and exhaled, picturing her worries leaving with the respiratory byproduct. She had been fixed. If she was the problem, then at least that was something that could be worked on. She regarded the silhouette with renewed confidence...
...Right as the male on the other side growled at her, his arm launching forward to scrape his claws against the glass. She didn’t even get the chance to speak before he renewed his aggression, spitting obscenities and threats. It was only when she fell back onto her haunches in shock that he pounded on the exit in his side of the room, promptly being released and leaving only caustic muttering in his wake.
She shook, wide-eyed and terrified, unknowing of what she did wrong. Never in her years has anyone been that upset with her defective nature. Sure, some would threaten or insult her, but those were out of disgust or irritation. It was never hate. It was never raw violence. She hadn’t so much as greeted him before he erupted, and she typically managed at least some one-sided small talk before others grew too annoyed with her scent and left the vicinity. In fact, a good sun was often measured in how many people could exchange more than just a single salutation with her.
She was fixed...right?
Right. Of course she was. She had likely thrown away everything for this, and it made no sense for it all to collapse now. That male just had some unresolved misgivings, or perhaps had misunderstood something. Simple. It was not her fault.
She got to her feet again and brushed off the nonexistent dust, settling the fur on her tail that had all but puffed out in her surprise. If nothing else, she would find out if these were to be potential den-mates, and would make an effort to be as understanding as possible. She would start small.
A current of air and slight hiss made her ear flick from the disturbance, the room filling with fresh sterilization by the time she remembered that she forgot to note the male’s scent. That was fine, just one more thing to correct. She worked off the last of her wary expression and patiently waited for the next person when it became apparent her side of the room would not offer egress yet.
The next to join her was a rather tall Lilhun, though she had difficulty determining sex due to the heavy obscurement between them. Even the ventilation holes were misaligned so as to deny her a visual confirmation, so she supposed either scent or voice would be how she confirmed.
“Greetings, new one. I pray the sun has treated you well?” she hedged, unsure if it was more appropriate to make it a statement or question. ‘Proper’ greetings were an unpractised thing, as most would just tell her what to do or where to be, and the few times she did start the conversation, it was better to jump to a topic than waste the precious time she had before her partner left.
A heavy crack of claw against glass sounded out before a slew of threats poured out of the opposing female, Sunundra thankfully managing to avoid falling over this time. Just like before, as soon as the other person demanded to leave, they did, and she was left wondering where she went wrong.
The air cycled before she could remember to sample it.
This repeated twice more, but with varying degrees of success before it all inevitably broke down. The first was a stoic male who returned her more firm greeting with a wary one, followed by a refusal to speak with her further until he was eventually released. She tried to note any difference in smell, but was rather disheartened when it appeared he didn’t come close enough. Still, it went much better than before, and any progress was still progress!
The second visitor was a...horrible disaster, honestly, but she wasn’t sure what she did. All she knew was that the female on the other side had been approximately her height—that is to say, a bit less than a full head below most—and was much thinner. As nice as it was not needing to look up, Sunundra did worry for the other female’s weight. Enough to inadvertently open with it, anyway.
“Are you ill?” she asked gently, keeping her voice low so as not to startle the obviously terrified female. A jolt and backwards step was the only comprehensible response, but a stuttered failure to speak was given as well.
The pale-furred female patted her clothing, displeased to see that she had forgotten to take much of anything with her in all the excitement, much less something to eat.
“If you are to request assistance, then someone should be along shortly.” Or at least she hoped so; she still was yet to see the head or tail of any staffing—medical, scientific, or otherwise. “You should sit, I fear you will fall. Is there anything you would like me to do?”
A quiet, trembling voice eked out as the other female retreated from the barrier between them, thumping against the wall and sliding to the floor before curling up defensively. “I-I a-apologize. P-please don’t hurt m-me. I’m not good with p-pain. I w-will listen. Please.”
Sunundra blinked, confused. “Why would I cause you pain?”
Whichever the correct response was, that was not it. The other female scrambled against the door until it eventually parted and only a flicker of shadow and hastened steps confirmed she left. The exit sealed once more, and the air recycled. Sunundra made an attempt to learn the scent of another this time, but only came up with sterile air and...
Urine. She somehow scared the poor thing half to death, and—
Wait. It wouldn’t be that strong of a smell. Surely she should have something that was new in her senses, right? But no, the acidic scent of waste grew as it lazily permeated the room, yet not a trace of pheromone could be detected.
Was she... Was she not...fixed? Did it fail? No, failure didn’t explain the hostility or terror. The only times others ever reacted so firmly was when someone else was...irate... Her concerned mind made the connection.
Hostility was met with hostility when no hierarchy was established. Since she was a bit smaller than most, she was the weaker target provoking the larger. In the case where it was more even, the male had been wary, but not willing to engage without cause. The last female was smaller...
Her defect wasn’t fixed, but twisted?
Disbelief delayed her exit when the door on her side of the room finally opened, but the urgent buzzer snapped her out of it long enough to trudge back towards her temporary den. Every thought was about what this meant for her if there was a second treatment. She should have remembered that, but she held onto hope that it had simply been forgotten. Perhaps it was one procedure for a partial adjustment, then a second or third for the rest?
Then she was forced to remember what life seemed to think about her foolish hopes.
The outside of her door displayed a poorly translated note thanking her for her involvement with their experimental treatment, then detailing the concluded results thus far.
The procedure failed to fix her olfactory, and the others she had met with were to verify her own scent, each reporting a single emotion with extreme potency: rage.
The final blow was an apology that they would not be continuing any testing with the treatment due to various concerns, and that she would be the only Lilhun in this den for the remainder of her stay.
Tears welled in her eyes.
Everything was bad enough before; at least there had still been hope to meet another defective like herself, or possibly someone who was rendered nose-blind through injury or some such. Now? Now she couldn’t so much as greet someone without non-verbally demanding to fight or threaten to cause harm, and she was expected to suffer this alone? Even assuming she did somehow find others who could ignore her scent now, they could never do anything together—not without provoking random others that happened to be nearby.
Before, she was rejected. Now, she was an active threat to her future loved one’s safety. She could practically feel the smallest of joys from brief conversations she had managed to partake in the past now slip between her claws, never to be gained again.
The door cracked, her sobs held down as best she could as she pushed it open before closing it quietly behind her. It escaped her notice that there was someone else inside until she turned back around.
It was a bit taller than her. Two legs with unnerving joints ended in flat feet. There was a distinct lack of fur besides what was on the head and possibly stubble around the mouth and jaw, exposing pinkish flesh where clothing failed to cover. Strange round pupils stared wide-eyed at her, the brown iris a striking departure from the amber colour of the Lilhun. Five digits of blunted claws, a nearly flat face, and the look of surprised excitement meeting her own expression of sorrow.
It was strange to see so much motion involved in the simple visual communication which followed. Their eyebrows were raised, then furrowed. Their mouth closed to a thin line, abandoning the joy she suspected it previously held. Finally, their relaxed posture deflated, shoulders drooping just a touch, the paws following suit.
She blinked, choking back the feeling that her last chance at some semblance of companionship had been ruined once again by her mere existence. Still, she tried her best, forcing a smile through the sadness staining her cheeks.
“G-greetings, new one. I pray the sun has treated you well.” A firm statement made with a shaking voice, yet she meant every word. She may have been cursed, but it wouldn’t matter for much longer, it seemed, and there was no reason to wish ill of someone who had done nothing wrong.
The one across from her recoiled, wincing and placing a claw to their oddly-placed ear as they quite clearly scowled at her voice, their nose scrunching along with everything else.
And just like her hopes for companionship, so too did her attempt to make a good impression shatter.
She rushed to her room before she could learn which extreme reaction her new scent would provoke from the alien, her claws fumbling with the mechanical lock before she threw herself to her bed, grabbing the rejected gift she had created and clutching it to her chest.
A moderately deep voice called out, a sharp knocking forcing her to curl around the display of affection that, like her, was never wanted, yet had no say in being created. She embraced the gadget and stifled hollow screeches, pretending and wishing that the Hunt Mother was doing the same to her in a way she could not feel.
Two creations despised by those it was made for, yet designed from inception to be loved.
The voice went quiet, surprisingly heavy footsteps fading away from her room.
How fitting that she held the symbol of her own worthlessness in her paws, her stuttered prayer falling apart as she internalized that not even an alien could tolerate her enough to speak with. She faded into sleep, suffering pain both physical and emotional, a part of her hoping she would never wake.
Yet the world cared not for her hopes.