Consciousnesses blearily reared its ugly head once more for the grey and yellow-furred female, Sunundra’s body protesting the effort it took to exist. Pain flared through her synapses, each fibre of her form screaming for it to cease, yet giving no assistance in seeking the solution lying alongside the bed. Still, she clenched her jaw to stop the whimper and blindly felt for her bag, successfully procuring another patch and placing it to the underside of her tongue. A hiss escaped her muzzle as the tender flesh grudgingly allowed another application of what she had on paw.
The shuddered breaths eventually subsided, but the reality of the previous sun surfaced in its place—a pain unaided by medication.
She wasn’t fixed; she was twisted into something that was somehow worse off than before, then isolated to suffer it alone. Everything she held onto hope for had been finally ripped out of her claws. She had nothing.
A smirk forced its way onto her lips as the folly of blind optimism became apparent yet again.
Not only was she now likely to be accosted or assaulted for entering an area occupied by others, and not only were the chances of a den even lower than anyone could have thought possible, but her personal ‘first contact’ reflected just how well the rest of her life would go—even a species unknown to her found her repulsive. How was she to be of strong faith when the reward for her piety was yet more agony? Where was she to go when the Void was the only path to accept her?
Discomfort in her abdomen brought her thoughts to current matters. It seemed her bladder was uninterested in any crisis of belief and disillusionment in her future, preferring to threaten making the first experiences of the sun even more miserable. A part of her was almost resigned to just laying in filth until nothingness took her away, but as tempting as giving up and sinking to a new low was, the remaining fragments of her dignity demanded that she properly take care of basic needs.
She released the aerial drone that lingered within her grasp throughout her turbulent rest, relief crossing her mind upon finding it to be unharmed, followed by the sobering reminder of why she still held possession of it. The monocopter stared back through the singular lens mounted on a somewhat boxy frame, the three blades of its propellers collapsed on top of one another for storage. The explosive embedded beneath the shell called to her.
Some part of her whispered how easy it would be to simply...bridge the connection. All that was needed was one wire to short a circuit, and then the future would be some intangible concept that existed where the entity of ‘Sunundra’ did not. The blackened urge tugged and writhed inside her ribs, all but promising that she could forego the untold violence and maltreatment by inviting but a single instant of forever, casting the soul to drift throughout the Void bereft of others.
Though perhaps still torturous, it would be peaceful. Though alone, the endless expanse would keep her company. Though twisted, none would persecute her.
She would never be welcomed to the Great Hunt of her kin, but she was hardly welcomed at all anyway. What use was vengeance upon those who wronged her when she would be the target?
Her lips pursed as she stared covetously at the gift which was never accepted, yet could cease the suffering with ease, the slow release of a held breath pushing down the dark impulse.
“O’Mother of this soul, your faithful knows not your plan for her, for the machinations of the divine are far beyond her station, yet she remains your servant in hopes of guidance to navigate the treacherous journey before her. Your faithful begs your pity as she strives to stay upon the path of the just, for love and affection may not be destined, but her purpose without them remains unknown. Your faithful awaits, O’Mother, as she always has.”
There was never an answer to her requests, but simply denying the compulsion through prayer dulled the sting in her heart. It was a shame that such became less effective as time progressed. Perhaps the next petition to the Goddess would be forgiveness for impatience...
The drone was placed back in the bag with the rest of her belongings as she gathered her bearings and begrudgingly rolled off the bed, flinching when her ankle struck the wooden frame again. The slight throb of her heartbeat felt in the bruised flesh kept her grounded as she crossed the room.
Her paw froze but mere fractions from the knob of the door, muffled sound leaking through the thin barrier between her and the rest of the den. Right, the alien was here now. She cycled a breath as a dejected gaze focused on the mechanism which opened the way forward. If nothing else, then perhaps the burden of her passing would be removed from her paws. At least she might be accepted by the Hunt Mother then.
A grim resolve was all that preceded the soft click of the lock releasing and the near silent swing of the door. She glanced around wearily, but she was met with only an empty main area and a clear path to her destination. The other doors were open—save for the exit—but the noise apparently came from the kitchen, the archway giving little information from her current angle. Wanting to just take care of her needs before the worst came to pass, she slunk to the bathroom as quietly as she could.
Physical relief came with a reluctant announcement of her wakefulness, the toilet proving to be either cheaply made or simply designed to be obnoxiously loud. Her ear twitched as the sounds of activity in the den ceased. There wasn’t much point in delaying the inevitable, she supposed, her exit from the facilities rife with trepidation.
A voice called out from the kitchen, startling her as expectations set her state of mind to an ironic desire to persist. The alien could be enraged that she dared leave her room, or it could want nothing more than for her to disappear like the rest of her kin. If violence was to come, then she was unsure what form it may take; it lacked any apparent weapons on its body, but that said little if it possessed less obvious methods to bring forth harm. Whatever they might be, her hammering heart and faltering desire to remain pushed her forward.
Forget her training, forget her retractable claws, forget every deployment where she had been forced to take a life in combat, and forget anything that isn’t hiding away. She couldn’t take another rejection from the world that she tried so desperately to please, Lilhun or not.
Frenzied feet carried her to her room, the door slamming closed and the lock clicking into place before she allowed herself to slide back against the wooden barrier, landing on her rump as her knees were brought to her chest. Tears built up as some recess of her mind held onto the foolish hope that not everything was lost, but it was outweighed by more practical thoughts—a tiny comfort in a ruthless storm of reality.
Footsteps approached the door, each startlingly heavy thud doubling the existent dread until she became lightheaded, hyperventilation gripping her lungs and throat until each breath became painful and forced.
The alien voice mumbled from the other side of her protection, her ear flicking while she attempted to place the exact distance. It was close—assuming the clarity was anything to go by—but it seemed to be speaking more for its own benefit than in an attempt to communicate with her. A long exhale preceded sharp knocks and louder speech.
Safely behind the pitiful shield, she was all but forced to listen. Though she failed to make sense of the strange language, the intonation caught her attention. It became an anchor in her mind, demanding her attention because she had never heard such a tone directed at herself before.
It was an apology—or at least the voice seemed to convey something along those lines.
Bolstered confidence waned, supplanted by a weary uncertainty, then defeated slowness. The progression was one she was quite familiar with, as it was one that often left her own muzzle throughout life; an attempt at conversation would be shot down with a distasteful glare that took entirely too long to accept, her faltering smile punctuating the intangible cracks in her cheerful facade. Things would begin with determination, then end with a swift brutality—only the dark embrace of truth remaining in the wake of hopefulness, and yet another fragment of herself crushed to pitiful dust for daring to share it.
Perhaps it was the flood of memories that prompted her to crack the door open, but before actual sense could gain control and reestablish the barrier, she was looking at the alien through the slit afforded by whatever sympathy encouraged the foolishness, her eyes widening slightly.
What surprised her the most was the sheer level of animation present in the alien’s visage. Lacking the foundation of most social interactions via her defective nature, things like strong emotions were often lost on her—especially if she was to speak with someone who was particularly stoic in regards to expressions. Compounding the issue was the comparatively lesser range of motion in those visual cues; she often only discovered that her potential conversation partner was in a foul mood once she was close enough to exacerbate it. All of it led to the pale-furred female seeming ‘out of touch’ in the majority of interactions, and ‘a deliberate nuisance’ in the rest.
The sour recollection of such a basic fact was brought forth by the alien’s face conveying so much that she was a bit taken aback by it. A look of surprise shifted into a worried smile, concern and tempered happiness peering back at her through tired eyes. Hesitation followed a set of abandoned paw gestures, apparent thoughts dismissed faster than they could be conveyed.
Its mild joy settled into a shy smirk, an arm motioning to something she couldn’t quite see alongside the door. It spoke softly while indicating specifics, then waited for a response, falling into a pensive silence when she didn’t so much as move. Eventually, it seemed to come to a conclusion, taking a few steps backwards and gesturing again to whatever was just outside of her room.
The pale-furred female let the door creak just a touch more to look, eyes flicking back to keep tabs on the other being.
A folding table of some kind had been laid next to the wall, a plate and glass prominently displayed; the first was covered in a variety of meats, fruits, vegetables, and a sampling of the yeasty items she disliked, while the second held an odd orange liquid. It all smelled good, but there was another scent that she couldn’t quite place, and that was enough to justify her wariness.
Apparently she had been staring at the food too long, as the alien began rambling off in its tongue again, the contrite and dejected tone returning.
“Apologies,” she voiced quietly, her ears folding back somewhat in shame and wincing when the alien shunted an eye closed in abrupt discomfort. “I do not understand you.”
It frowned in thought, fiddling with an ear before its mouth was covered by a paw, claws working over the stubble of fur on its jaw. It eventually spoke again, a brow raised as it presumably asked a question with a troubled expression. The soft cadence failed to give her much to work with, but there wasn’t any aggressive body language, which was better than nothing. She tried to explain again, the door opening a fraction more.
“Forgive this one for her lack of understanding. I was under the assumption that the device provided to me would facilitate communication, but it appears to be ill equipped for this.”
Rounded pupils subtly shifted to the triangular protrusions on her head for a few moments. A huff and critical gaze lingered until it removed something from its ear, the paw displaying a small black object that looked fairly similar to the translator she was given before her procedure. The alien pointed to its own ear, then hers.
The confusion on her face must have been fairly obvious, prompting it to repeat the motions, now tapping the translation device and pantomiming a request to show hers. She frowned, but complied, her claws grabbing...nothing.
Wait. Where was her translator?
The device wasn’t where she expected it to be, and even checking the other ear proved fruitless. Had she misplaced it? How would she request another? Would they even give her one? What if they refused, weary of the female who lost a piece of technology which might cost untold fortunes?
Its voice resurfaced, a lopsided expression pulling half of its mouth in contemplative frustration as its eyes wandered nothing in particular. The alien gestured to the food again, speaking warmly before it turned and left for the other bedroom. She regarded it and the dubious meal cautiously before closing the door again and deciding to start on the rations she packed instead. She wanted to leap for joy at the prospect of someone not openly despising her, but she couldn't. Not after everything which led to her being here. Not when she was assuming so much about a species not her own.
Perhaps if she had worked diligently to earn such kindness, then it would be easier to accept that receiving it was merited. As things stood, she had only one experience of another doing such, and the rows of disgusted stares still lingered in her memory. Additionally, it was an alien; it would be foolish to trust a being which she was unable to even identify. She would still be polite, but not because the shoddy interaction was somehow more fulfilling than seasons of shallow, insincere pleasantries, but because the Union had fulfilled their promise, even if she was worse off as a result.
The hard crunch of the grey flavourless brick gave her sustenance for her body, but her soul remained unsated.
She pined for a nourishment she would never truly have.
- - - - -
Over the past few suns, the matter of her missing translator became her priority; it could hardly be said that she was repaying a debt if the foundation of her efforts was callously disregarded. She was to attempt peaceful cohabitation with the strange acaudal alien, and such would be difficult if she lacked the ability to at least understand it.
The floor was vacant of any unexpected additions, the drawers and closet yielded much the same, and the bed was as equally unhelpful as anywhere else she thought to look. With little else as far as possible locations, the main room became the next most likely area to have lost it, since the...notification tone? The noise that the exit made was quite loud—if dropping a literal bomb almost happened, then it wasn’t much of a stretch to assume a smaller device might have been launched in the process.
Again, she waited for the routine that had been established to play out. She had spent her time anxiously avoiding the other inhabitant of the den, learning roughly when it seemed to rest and taking care of what little couldn’t be addressed within her room—though that was mostly confined to relieving herself or fetching water.
Each ‘moon,’ the strange voice carried through the walls shortly before complete silence reigned and she was free to resume her searching. Though it had only been three times since her ears had picked it up, she found herself listening to the emotive cadence somewhat muffled by the walls between them.
She had wept herself into rest the first moon the alien inhabited the den, but the ones after were an interesting thing to hear, if a bit guilt inducing. It started with a tone of worry, soft speech continuing for a while before switching to a note of confidence. The second instance was dejection, confusion, doubt, but again showed a resolute determination. Last moon was one she stopped tinkering to listen closely; the voice was slow and defeated, never gaining the strength like it had before. It made the ending which repeated each time stir something within her. The draw of the Void found kin in another.
It was loss. It was the voice of one who struggled to stay above the surface in the waters of life, bereft of what once made them float. It was the sound of someone making a desperate and heartfelt plea to not be left alone, their cry echoing off nothing in the black expanse of infinity, for no one would ever hear them.
It was a tone she used when begging the Hunt Mother for someone to care, and no one ever did.
The regular ritual left her thinking throughout the sun, skipping rest as her mind turned over her situation. She might be able to fight the urges now, but it was only a matter of time until there was no choice but to accept that even the Goddess had abandoned her. Would the alien feel that way too? Was that why it finished every session with the same few utterances? Did it also find itself alone and scared of the world, seeking solace in an opportunity? Even though enough time had passed, there still failed to be more of the species. Was it to remain isolated like her? Were they both so terribly, terribly alone?
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Each sun the alien knocked and spoke to the door of her room, strange speech conveying the waning hope. Scared as she might be, the queries remained. They returned to her thoughts over and over, pushed aside until they would be delayed no longer, the tortured soul within her recognizing its reflection.
Why did she insist on listening to the suffering of another like herself, pretending it was of no consequence as she assembled weapons for comfort? How high of a cost would she pay to be cared for if everything had already been an acceptable price? Why was she refusing the other being its salvation when such cost her nothing but kind words to give?
The answer was quick, but unhelpful; she feared a true final rejection. The real question was if she would wander the Void carrying knowledge that another might have been spared, yet she was too fearful to show the very thing she prayed for? Would she wish another to watch her suffer to the end, able but unwilling to save her?
She cracked her door to see that the alien’s room was mostly barred, only a sliver of space allowing view of the contents. A small part of her warned of how fragile she had become—urging her to return to her solitude so that her passing might be eased by the fact that she hadn’t suffered needlessly—but another piece still dared hope.
Noise came from the other’s room. The alien sounded irritated, but begrudgingly patient as it muttered to itself. For the first time since it arrived, she ventured outside of her confines while it was awake to seek the translator she misplaced. Even if she failed in soothing the wounded heart which bled through a sorrowful voice, she would at least know what the alien was saying before surrendering to sleep. She would know which prayer it gave to spurn the ripping depths which sought to tear the soul.
Sunundra took a breath, opened her door, and started the search—the first step in her task of doing for another what none attempted for her.
The wooden floor was just as forthcoming as the carpeted one in her room, the mostly blank surface turning up empty no matter how thoroughly her eyes scoured it. Shelves were checked just in case, yet remained as barren as she remembered them, and the tables were both devoid of anything which might be what she needed as well. The couch took a few moments to rummage through—plush cushions and decorative indenting proving to be ample space for something so small to disappear into—but even stripping it bare yielded no results. The bathroom was assumed to be a lost cause to begin with, yet she checked to no avail, leaving her with few ideas as to where the device had gone.
Her absent search of the couch resumed as her mind poured over possibilities. She hadn’t left the den for any reason besides…the test. Right. It was possible for it to have come loose when she was startled by the reactions to her scent.
The realization was almost enough to bring her to her knees. All her efforts led to scorn from her own people, and the single time she could offer something to someone else, she had to sabotage that as well. There was no blaming her defect for it, nor whatever modification left her worse off than she started, for she was the common point of failure for it all. One task to make her life worth something, one expression of sympathy crossing the boundary of species, and one desire for companionship...yet she was too pathetically stupid to remember the single device which made all of that possible. Frustration brought a watery shimmer to her vision.
The alien’s door opened as she was standing in the middle of the main room, her head snapping towards the noise to see an irritated expression that lessened as it noticed her. Her paw raised to rub at her eyes, a pitiful attempt at a smile given as she retrospectively began berating her own appearance.
Her clothing was terribly wrinkled and she had neglected to change, instead of absently assembling her projects in a vain attempt to maintain sanity. Pale fur stood off at odd angles in several places from suns spent barely shifting from a single position on her bed, and her troubled sleep—whenever she managed to drift off, that is—left her body tired and sluggish.
Overall, she looked haggard and worn—like a kit who remained unsupervised for too long, yet somehow still twice as piteous.
The open mouth of the alien closed, pulling back into the telegraphed face of one mulling over a difficult problem. Her heart hammered under the scrutiny, echoes of disgusted voices playing in her ear, words of rejection and ire coming back to remind her why she was foolish to think that she could be of help to another when she was only a detriment to herself.
The building tumble of panic stalled as it removed its translator, only to point at itself, the device, then her.
“I...” Her eyes flicked to her room, returning to the alien when a dejected exhale slouched its posture.
It tried again, feigning grabbing the translator with both paws, then ‘breaking’ it in two before ‘giving’ her one half. Some of her tension abated as she adopted a confused frown, debating between hiding once more and trying her best despite being unaided by the technology. She decided on something in the middle, keeping the path to her room behind her open while attempting to figure out what was being asked of her. Was it displeased with the device?
It attempted a few variations of the motions to explain itself—to varying degrees of failure—but when it went to the kitchen and came back with some small props, the message was much easier to ascertain.
The alien held two of the green oval fruits in its claws, gesturing to the device to equate them to it.
‘Pretend these are translators.’
She nodded her loose understanding, her head tilting as she followed along. It pointed to her, one of its paws holding a fruit, then dropped the prop onto the ground.
‘You are no longer in possession of yours.’
Her acknowledgement encouraged a smirk as it reached into a pocket and produced another fruit, then mimed giving the new one to...
She felt her cheeks flush somewhat as her tired mind finally caught what the initial attempt tried to convey; it was giving her a new translator somehow.
Either her embarrassment was particularly humorous, or it was simply celebrating its success, but the alien grinned either way, the rumbling chuckle lacking any antagonistic edge. It added a gesture she was unfamiliar with, wiggling the device then using a claw to tap its wrist. Whatever the message was, it wasn’t deemed important enough for new visual aids, because the alien just added a halfhearted shrug to its elation when she politely shook her head to show a lack of understanding.
She caught a smile as it formed on her muzzle, blinking at the fact she was suddenly very aware they had been communicating for some time now, and yet the alien still seemed perfectly fine with being in the same room as her. It didn’t even attempt to create distance or give up when she wasn’t comprehending what it tried to say. It didn’t seem displeased that she had effectively cut herself off over the past few suns, nor did it grow annoyed when she finally left her room. The interaction wasn’t stilted or unpleasant either...
Any further thought was interrupted by the loud buzzer of the exit and the alien walking to it with a dry cheer. While she was expecting to see text and instructions, her surprise doubled as the door popped open slightly, then was nudged the rest of the way by the alien without effort. It bent over and retrieved a small box from the ground, a skeptical expression worn as it opened the parcel and used a foot to seal the exit once more. It promptly produced the new translator, tossed the packaging on the small table, and came back holding the device out to her, gazing in expectation.
She was stunned by the proximity, failing to register that she was to accept the item until the alien gestured for her to take it. Cautiously, she opened a paw, the translator dropping into her grasp.
It looked different from her previous one—most noticeably in shape—but she placed it in her ear, finding it to be a much more comfortable fit. In fact, once everything was properly seated, she had trouble determining if it was in at all, even the reactionary flick of her ear failing to dislodge or otherwise disturb it. A few deliberate attempts eventually shifted it out of place however. She nudged it and repeated the test a few times, never quite getting it to stay put as well as she felt it could.
The pout of frustration was short lived, replaced by wide eyes as the alien smirked and casually reached to her ear, adjusting the device. A small clamping pressure surprised her, but any discomfort faded over the course of a few moments.
“J...tle...re...nd... There. That should be good, I think. The bastards left you with the basic model, and those things are damn near useless,” it criticized, the voice tinted with amusement. “They sound like an old ‘text to speech’ program, the dictionaries are never updated, and they couldn’t be bothered to give the right size for your ear. It’s no wonder that you lost it. So, how is it? Can you hear me?”
She watched as it stepped back a bit, waiting for a response with an expression that didn’t quite match the nervousness in its tone. Her paw slowly raised, running a claw over a small rubberized piece attached to the shell of her ear. “I understand you...”
The smile on the alien’s face softened, tinting with a hint of worry as it absently moved a paw to the side of its head. “Is it too loud? They’re pretty easy to bump.”
“N-no, it is sufficient,” she assured weakly. It regarded her doubtfully for a moment before dismissing the line of questioning with a nod and a breath.
“Well, I’m glad we sorted that out. As willing as I was, it’s hard to get to know someone with charades, and you might have noticed that I’m not exactly the best at it. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, miss...” It paused, pursing its lips in an embarrassment. “I’m sorry, miss. I just realized that I forgot to introduce myself. Well, while you could actually pick out what I was saying... Anyway, I’m Bill.”
She glanced at the suddenly offered paw curiously, unsure what she was expected to do about it. Tentatively, she grasped it with her own, almost flinching back when the alien gripped firmly and pumped the arm twice before releasing her. It felt...strange, though she was unsure if it was because she didn’t remember the last time someone willingly made contact with her, or because of the slightly differing anatomy. The five digits had applied an unusual pressure on her skin, unlike the four she was accustomed to.
“Miss?”
Sunundra blinked, tearing her gaze away from her paw. “Are you referring to myself?”
The alien shrunk a little more, placing one arm across its stomach and supporting the other elbow atop it, a claw idly scratching at its cheek. “It’s just a polite way to address a woman when you don’t know their name.”
She glanced down at herself curiously. The pale yellow fur of her jaw continued down her front, quickly being obscured by her clothing. The subtle curvature of her chest wasn’t particularly notable in her opinion, and she was fairly unremarkable in every other area. Though far from androgynous, she wasn’t exactly the most eye-catchingly feminine Lilhun either.
Her regard returned to the alien. “Which criteria might you have used to determine if I was female?”
The alien’s cheeks turned startlingly red. “I... You just... Well...” It turned its head away, glancing at her from the corner of its eye. A moment passed before a longer exhale shamefully brought back its full attention. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume anything.”
Her ear flicked at the novelty of being subjected to so many apologies. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure how to manage such a situation—usually it was her who needed to tread lightly in conversation.
Her paws came up in a mix of an attempt to distance herself from the notion she was upset, and the odd feeling of uncertainty. “No, you are correct. I just find myself wondering how one is to go about identifying the sex of another not of their own. I do not know how similarly I appear to females of your species, so I was merely curious what might have brought forth the conclusion.”
“You, uh...” It scratched at its nose, its eyes flicking to her form before being swiftly redirected elsewhere. “You just look female to me. Trust me, I’ve made the mistake before, and he was less than happy to hear it. I still can’t really... It depends on...”
It sighed deeply.
“I’m sorry, miss. Honestly, someone else should probably be staying here. I’m not the best at...this.”
“This?” she echoed, wondering just how much of her knowledge on body language was transferable. To her, the shame, embarrassment, shyness, and obviously apologetic visage shone like beacons from the strange creature. It was all she could do to mentally remind herself that this being was not her kin, and that any emotion she assumed to be apparent should also be scrutinized. Still, the tone of its voice remained weak and unsure. It waved its free paw loosely to cover the waning confidence, turning side-on to look about the room.
“All of this—going to other planets, meeting xenos, knowing about them...” A self-deprecating chuckle left its muzzle, its voice lowering to a saddened murmur she could only barely hear. “Some people are just born for this sort of thing.”
She frowned slightly, feeling the words resonate a bit more than was comfortable. The alien looked...lonely. Perhaps it was more forward than she might have anticipated, but the instant that its momentum shifted, an all too familiar aura of longing showed beneath the cracks. The level of empathy she had for the strange species took her by surprise, but there was little time to ponder anything. The weary expression it wore turned back to her.
“I’ll assume you’re the smarter one of us and were trying to politely hint that my name wasn’t enough information,” it voiced with a hint of frustration, though the subtle barb seemed to be directed towards itself. “Like I said, I’m Bill. Human, male, and completely unqualified to be here.”
Its—no, his—pause following the introduction left her blinking. Was she also to give her name? It was forbidden to divulge such in her position, though that mistake had already been made once... Offending him by withholding information was the last thing she wanted to do to someone voluntarily speaking with her, but...she also couldn’t just forget how poorly it went last time.
Sunundra cycled a breath, straightening her posture and bowing her head courteously. “Greetings, Bill. This one is a female Lilhun. You may address me as you have been—assuming such is acceptable?”
She cheered internally for not fumbling over her words, the feeling sinking upon seeing the male’s enthusiasm be less than she would have anticipated. Still, he nodded in understanding.
“Well then, miss, it’s nice to properly meet you.” A ding from the kitchen gave both of them a slight jump, Bill offering her a weak smirk before tipping his head towards the archway, then pointing behind her with a claw. “I need to go check on that. I made something for you too, but I wasn’t sure what you could have. Just tell me if there’s anything you don’t like. I’ll get something to eat now, but I’ll be in my room if you need me for anything.”
He was off before she could properly respond to him, the sudden absence of a willing conversational partner leaving her feeling more empty than she was used to. Unlike every prior time someone walked away, his stride wasn’t hurried, nor were there any signs of agitation—though he lacked a tail which might flick to openly express it. He left the main room of the temporary den with a subtle shadow over his features, the face of one berating themselves for holding hope disappearing as he turned the corner.
How strange it was to see such a vivid and transparent display of something she had only seen in mirrors.
“Bill?” she called as he stepped out of view. A heavier step back had him looking at her questioningly. “I wished to express my gratitude...for the meals. I apologize for not partaking before.”
His eyes softened, his shoulders relaxed their tension, and his lips pulled into a warm smile. “I understand, miss. You’re welcome. The other night, you looked... Anyway, I just tried to make a bit of everything since I wasn’t sure what you could have. We’ll work on it and you can let me know if there’s anything you can’t eat or would prefer for next time.”
“I will.”
It was subtle, but a smile accompanied the nod given before he slipped back into the kitchen, her gaze lingering on the archway until her attention turned to the small folding table next to her door. The plate was still waiting to be accepted, though much cooler now that it had rested there for a while. Again the voice of reason and fear told her to avoid it, lest she fall victim of another ruse or other evils, but she ignored it, seeking that which paranoia could never offer.
Cautious paws delicately collected the offered items, the surprising heft taking a moment to adjust for. She carried it into her room, closing the door behind her and bringing the meal to her desk, tucking her tail out of the way as she sat.
For the longest time, all she could do was stare at it and replay the events in her head, each repetition catching new details the previous run-through missed. The alien really did cover the majority of edible items at his disposal—barring the items which came from Iras—each carefully separated from others by type. The watering of her mouth was matched by her eyes, and for once, it was not sorrow which brought the tears, nor was it manic glee like when she falsely assumed her prayers to be answered. No, it was a simple emotion which somehow twisted and bent throughout her modified form, yet did not mar the structure, instead easing the heavy weight she had been forced to accept as normal. Her mind struggled to place a name to such a feeling, and yet it succeeded.
Gratitude.
Claws brought the first item closer for individual inspection, the meat proving to be completely lacking spices, while a second had been seasoned to some degree. When she laid down the last piece, it became clear that Bill had decided to offer a spectrum of options. Actually, it appeared as if he had prepared the same dish every sun and left it out for her, patiently providing for when hunger proved too much to ignore. Was that why he kept pointing at specific things the first time? He was explaining what each item was?
A cold pit formed in her stomach as the small conversation was scoured in her mind once again. He mentioned the volume of the translators, which was likely why her voice caused him to scowl that moon; it had been set too high by mistake and might have been painfully loud. Then the comment about how she appeared... Did she look as miserable as she felt coming back to the den? Was the first he saw of her a shattered female who had just learned that her dreams of companionship had been crushed?
Yet she ran from him—a lonely soul suffering solitude, much the same as herself—and ignored the attempts to provide some modicum of care. Unperturbed, he persisted, awaiting the moment she was able to gather the strength to speak as he sourced a replacement for that which she lost.
She sampled a portion of spiced meat as both stomach and soul sat stunned at what was offered.
The first bite freed the dampness building on her cheeks. The second let loose sobs.
She never knew kindness tasted so good.