The conversation Sunundra started in her room had needled into old wounds for both of them, but Bill respectfully strayed away from topics which brought forth memories that were better left untouched after that. In return, she kept her queries to herself, letting the bubbling curiosity solidify lest an errant topic bring sorrow to his eyes again.

It…hurt when he gazed beyond their den and into a past he wished not to burden her with. It was almost as if he worried she would think less of him, or perhaps he thought she had suffered enough and that his pain would only strain her further. A foolish premise perhaps, but one that she found comforting to muse. The very concept that someone would worry for her fanned the flames within, but to hold concern that their own suffering would bring her more was…

It hardly mattered now. Bill had brought out the meal which used animals native to Iras, and although it was certainly new to him, it was still quite good. What's more, he had been mindful of providing only that which she wouldn't need to refrain from, apparently having watched—or at least noticed—how much she ate of the other items and adjusted accordingly. It was quite the meal to have after being asleep for a while, though the idle query was met with a sobering answer.

She had been unconscious for the better part of two suns, and although she had apparently stirred a few times, only the one instance of wakefulness was within recollection. She could only imagine what state she was in for him to have brought his things along to pass the time while tending to her.

On top of his surprising diligence, he admitted that he had been taking notes about her condition to keep track of her health, and that what he had been constantly referencing were relevant records he had on paw. Why he had such a thing readily available was anyone's guess, but his weakened tone ceased that line of questioning before it could even begin.

Loss. Pain. Isolation. She knew what resided beneath the smiling facade and casually dismissive gestures. She wanted to know, but the fragile platform on which she stood could not bear the weight of her voicing the curiosity. His willful ignorance to her scent was enough. She would be content with that.

Yet something demanded more. Like a shout drowned out by the storm, she wished to find what plagued the strange male, then offer aid however she could. He provided conversation and a welcoming grin. He provided care and concern. He provided the soft caress upon her cheek to silence the panic upon waking from a rest most unexpected.

How gingerly such a touch was given. How calming she had found it. She should have been wary, if not scared, yet it was slow and affectionate. Reassuring and promising. He had chosen to care for her, and that was all the reason he needed to do so. Even the most distrustful aspects of her soul quieted beneath his claws, adamant that no harm would come from it. How strange for the first contact she had experienced in…

She fell still as she applied the powdered chemicals to the rods coated in a thin adhesive, a project she mused when Bill refused to vilify her role as a demolitions expert. He saw beyond the means she used to secure a result, then merely smiled when she got excited while speaking about it, even if she had spent some time rambling about her fascination with the items she so often made.

It was strange for one to have life brought to their visage when she spoke openly and without practiced planning, yet he glowed with interest as his smirk crooked into befuddlement and humour. Afterwards, he mentioned something called ‘fireworks,’ for which the translator offered ‘recreational explosives.’

To say she was elated was an understatement, but instead of recoiling at her enthusiasm, the male simply smiled and promised to show her a recording of an event where the ‘fireworks’ were implemented as a main attraction. It motivated her to revisit old designs and show him what first gained her interest in the craft, as well as how she often spent her time whenever there wasn’t a particular need to design something specific.

As usual, her contentment came at a price. He had been called away from their meal by a chirping sound from his terminal, then returned with a hesitant expression.

He was to leave for several suns.

Even her best preparation would bend and crack at the news, but having come down from her excitement and merriment? It was a crushing blow to her in every way.

The pale-furred female looked up from her hobby, gazing at the empty room that carried none of her den-mate’s scent. It was cold. It was silent. It was as if the Void had simply retreated to strike anew, and had now begun to prod at the edges of her thoughts while it awaited a weakness. Waiting to tear her asunder.

Bill had been summoned for a ‘progress report’ of some kind—a meeting that was explained to her as a method of consolidating the opinions of the other human participants within one place, free of influence that might come from the species they were to speak about being close. He had reiterated several times that he shouldn’t be gone too long and that she would hear of anything interesting that happened while he was away. It seemed to be more for his sake than hers, yet it soothed some part of her all the same.

In fact, he had appeared as unsettled by the news as she was, his attempts to hide it behind a smile falling somewhat flat. He glanced at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, he took to reading on his terminal in the main area instead of his room, and his ritual before rest became tense all the way up until his departure. She hadn’t listened since the first time she could understand him, but the general tone carried through the walls. He was worried about his absence. He was worried about her.

She clutched that knowledge close to her chest, using the warmth it brought to ignore the stillness that settled in the den, only the sounds of her breathing and the soft shuffle of powder reaching her ears.

The last rod was placed with the rest, using up the last of the materials she had prepared. There weren’t many—even a paltry six could be dangerous if misused—but it would be enough to properly demonstrate the other facet of her designation.

A phantom sensation on her shoulder reminded her of their farewell, his paw squeezing gently in an amicable display—friendly, but respectfully distant. His words remained centered on her health until he was forced to leave, telling her again and again to sleep, eat, and take care of herself. It sowed a strange fear in her, yet it did not come from within, instead soaking through her very flesh to permeate her being.

Strange, but it felt every bit as natural as blood moving through her veins. Odd, but nothing felt out of place. Peculiar, but something which slotted into her perception perfectly, as if she had already been designed to feel such. As if it would be foolish for any other sensation to be experienced.

As if she was meant to.

A sigh escaped her as her eyes drifted to the display hidden in her wall, only a segment of it visible from her current angle. Unfortunately, she still didn’t understand what caused it to increment, but it had done so several times since he had left. Several numbers of unknown script. Several rests feeling like something was missing. Several suns pining for a scent she couldn’t find anywhere else.

Why was such a unique smell the only one she could truly attribute to a single person? Better yet, why did she feel so hollow without it?

She lacked another to ask, and the prayers to her Goddess remained unanswered.

The priests had often told her that she had sinned, commanding her to seek forgiveness for whichever trespass brought forth the defect. She did, for she was but a kit without a pack, and she had been raised to place faith above self. She had prayed to be forgiven for every action she could think of up to that point, then switched to begging mercy for even the smallest show of weakness.

The Hunt Mother did not smile upon the frail of soul. She did not deign to listen to prayers of those who would not fight for their aspirations. She did not bless those who surrendered before they had done all they could.

The Mother gave boons to her faithful when their trials were matched with sincerity, and according to both her blood-mother and the temple, she had been given the greatest trial, yet stood to gain the greatest reward if she succeeded.

The gift. A bond. She would find another who would be of her as she would be of them, two souls intertwined by their very existence and linked together to remain as one.

Two forms, one fate, and an eternity in the Great Hunt to become the beings their mortal flesh could not contain. She would be given one final trial which would last until death, though one which was rapturous to undertake. A purpose beyond a fake smile and planned conversation. A calling past forced proximity and studious application of her chosen craft.

She would be given her reward, and with it, meaning.

But first, she must continue her current tribulation of using a cheerful tone when sobs threaten to take over, a warm gaze where tears wish to soak her cheeks, and open arms when the pain of rejection brought nothing more than the desire to curl up and embrace the end, cold and alone. She must be strong and persevere, no matter how much all else wished her to cease. She must continue, even when stopping was all she could think of.

She collected the excess powder and placed it in a container before carrying it back to her room for proper storage. The rods were left on the ‘coffee table’ for when Bill returned, hopefully hardening enough for the demonstration by then. The shadow of a smile crossed her muzzle as she pictured him finding them as interesting as she did when she first made the compound, a kit mixing common chemicals in an effort to be useful and finding fascination instead.

Her tidying of the components for her surprise complete, she wandered the den, cleaning up anything else lest he return to see her more slovenly side. It was something which showed itself when everything became too much, but he would worry if he were to know just how unsettled his absence made her. Plates were brought to the dedicated machine, clothing was collected and stored appropriately, and a frown crossed her muzzle as she peered at the one place she had never touched.

Though given permission to enter his room, she never much felt the need to enter Bill's space—or at least that was what she told herself. Truthfully, she had already resisted the urge to do just that on a few occasions, each compulsion getting harder to suppress as suns dragged on with no clear way to tell how long he was away. She was keeping track based on how many times she had awoken from rest, but it seemed that the need to sleep was pressed down further and further as she stole glances at the featureless metal door which took him from her.

Took him?

Sunundra’s pacing slowed to a crawl as she wondered where the possessive thought had come from. She did not have a say in where he went or how long he was to be absent. It was unfortunate to be alone, yes, but she was comforted by the knowledge that he also wished nothing of it, and that he would rather stay to offer an attentive ear and understanding presence.

Yet he was gone, and without a proper thing or person to place blame, she itched to take it out on the barrier between her and him. Why? She appreciated his company and certainly welcomed how he treated her, but there had been only a few suns where they truly interacted with each other. Was she devoid of affection to the point where even that was enough to expose this part of her? Well, yes, obviously, but to be this attached?

Her critical evaluation of the unexpected sensation halted so abruptly that she needed to blink away the disorientation.

A tap from the hallways beyond their den. It was soft, but close.

She would have ignored it, but her feet carried her forth regardless, uncaring of ‘why’ when Bill could be returning this very moment. She bounced on her pads in front of the exit, both ears focused forward. The den didn’t exist. The rods didn’t exist. Just the exit. Only the sounds beyond it. Only him.

Another tap, though it was a slightly deeper sound. Another. Footsteps.

Her paws clasped over her heart as the steps grew closer. Three suns alone, by her estimates. Three long, soul-numbing suns as she waited, pacified by naught but a promise. She likely seemed pathetic as she stood there—excitement colouring her otherwise neutral expression while he was away—but she sought to do something specific. Something she had always wanted to do, yet had given up on ever achieving. Something which seemed so mundane to those who could freely do such.

The door popped open the slightest amount. She settled herself calmly, donning her broadest smile as the first tints of that warming scent brought the feeling of wholeness. She watched with anticipation as the barrier was pushed aside, giving an opportune time to fulfill a small wish—the kit within waiting with bated breath as the familiar pinkish hue came into view.

He was there, as promised, his very presence bringing comfort to her agitated mind. His irritated expression softened as his eyes found hers.

There he was. He returned to her. Oh, how complete it felt.

The stress and excitement melted off her form, the planned bow replaced with a slightly tilted head and a half-lidded, peaceful visage, her tail swaying low and expectant. “Welcome back, Bill.”

His tired smile made it all the more perfect.

- - - - -

“So we got together in a conference room,” he continued between bites of the meal he quickly prepared for them, gesturing with his paws as he spoke. “Huge place. I think there were maybe thirty of us there around the table, but they had each seat kind of sectioned off from the others behind some sort of frosted glass, which made counting difficult. The guy next to me was just a mute blur, so I’m not sure why we needed to go there.”

Sunundra nodded along, trying her best to keep the shifts and flicks of her tail subtle. The smile was a lost cause—it had a mind of its own, and held absolutely no desire to be anything less than fully on display. Her plate lay empty, long since cleared so that she could give him all of her attention. She attempted to satisfy the desire of not seeming too overwhelmed with joy by resting her head on her paws.

Based on the amused glint in his eye, she was doing a terrible job.

“Once everyone was settled in, they had these little screens that just asked a bunch of boring questions—’What is your opinion of your cohabitant’s diet?’ ‘What issues, if any, have arisen between you and your cohabitant?’—but it felt like most of them were pretty shallow personality things.” Bill paused, scratching at the smooth skin of his jaw, only the hints of stubble visible.

She noted the difference, adding yet another question to those she wished to ask.

“They mentioned a few things I wasn’t sure about,” he added, frowning slightly as he scrutinized the memory. “Some wordings like ‘scent’ kind of struck me as odd—I wasn’t sure if it was asking what I thought of how you smell or the other way around—but others were just…private at best.”

Her ear flicked in curiosity, a hint of hesitation also stopping the query. “I desire to know more about the second in a moment, but what might your confusion be regarding the first?”

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“Hm? Oh. I don’t know, it just seems weird,” he admitted, leaning back in his seat. He raised a brow at her. “Do I smell like anything? Well, minus when I came back from running forever. Pretty sure ‘bad’ is implied there.”

“It is difficult to place a set of descriptors on it, but were I encouraged to, I would say your scent is as it always was,” she hedged, unsure what kind of response he was looking for. He smelled of himself. She lacked other humans to compare it to, and thus she was operating off of a sample size of one.

He froze, a slice of an orange vegetable pierced by his fork. “Wait, what? I shouldn’t… I showered before I left.”

The pale-furred female tilted her head. “I am aware. You carry the traces of the soaps and such on you. They do not obscure how a human smells.” Bill sniffed at his shirt in a few spots, all but pouting when he seemed to be unable to distinguish anything of note.

“I’m not sure if that’s good or not,” he grumbled. “All I smell is ‘shirt’ and food.”

Sunundra winced, regretting her decision to continue the topic. “You need not act as if my scent is nonexistent…”

“No,” he dismissed lazily, still partially lost in thought. “You smell like fur and whatever perfumes you end up using, but I need to be basically touching you to notice. It’s nice.”

Her mouth opened, yet words failed to form upon her mind’s request for them. She drew breath, though that too accomplished little. Eventually, she choked the feeling down for just a moment. “It is not…unpleasant? Am I not repulsive?”

He shifted his eyes to scowl at the assertion. “What? No, why?”

Her thoughts screeched to a halt.

“Is it bad for your species?” he pressed, more curious than anything, but each word hammered into her relentlessly. “I know it says in the briefing that you have stronger noses, but is it really by that much?”

“You…” She swallowed heavily, her mouth suddenly far too dry. “You can not smell it?”

Bill pushed the plate aside, resting his elbows on the tabletop, his brows furrowed critically. “Considering I have no idea what you mean? No.”

Her heart hammered, her blood feeling like thickened syrup forcing its way through constricted veins. He hadn’t been merely ignoring it, but the defect—or whatever she would call her current condition—had never reached him to begin with? Did it reframe his actions now that she knew he pitied her not for what she was, but what he saw in her? He was kind not because it was his people’s honor, but because it was just how he is? Was she not restrained by the shackles which condemned her?

“You okay, Sunshine?”

Her gaze snapped up from the spot on the table it had been fixed. Bill was there, a blatant worry on his expression, a furless paw hovering just out of reach as if he was unsure that his touch would be welcome. If only he knew how long she had dreamt of such an offer. How long it had been since someone deigned to make contact with her defective form. How long she had prayed for everything he gave freely. Now she learned that there was not a single mote of reluctance behind it.

For the first time, her condition was irrelevant…

“Excuse me,” she managed through a choked whisper, leaving the table and promptly retreating to her room. She needed time to think. Time to recontextualize everything and make sense of why she felt so warm. Why the reality was struggling so much to set in, and why it all made her so concerned. It shouldn’t—this was all she ever wanted—yet the bristle of alarm sent a shiver down her spine and threatened to flood adrenaline into her system. She wished to know why she sought to fix it when there was nothing needing repair.

“Did I say something…”

She glanced at him over her shoulder as she grabbed the spherical knob of her bedroom door, the static buzz abating. It was replaced with a weight in her stomach, both heavy and causing dragged steps under its influence. Her breathing slowed, drawing in more of the scent. More of him. Each inhale wrapped itself deeper and deeper around her core until cracks and chips along the surface were filled with it, smoothing years of abrasion and wear until it seeped further inside. She smiled at him, torn but genuine.

“I simply need to contemplate things, Bill. You have…” In. Out. A thoughtful pause became a heart beating with purpose beyond surviving yet another sun of her trial. “You have only been wonderful.”

The male seemed conflicted, but he accepted the answer, nodding with a tempered reassurance and concern. “Well, whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here, Sunshine.”

“I know.”

The door clicked closed behind her, acting as a backrest as she slid to the floor and stared at the ceiling.

“O’Mother of this soul…”

- - - - -

The softened steps diluted even the subtlest sound, her claws hovering above the hardwood floor of the main area. She knew not why she sought to be silent, yet she did, so she was. It felt better to adhere to those impulses. It felt right to surrender herself to them.

Bill was using physical cables to attach his terminal to the large rectangular screen across from the couch, the wall-mounted device having yet to see use. She had tried, but the methods to control the alien technology had either escaped her, or were simply not provided. Until now, she was content with it being little more than a slightly odd decoration. Her den-mate appeared to think otherwise.

His kneeling form carried careful movements, as if any slip in the motions might prove too large a disturbance. He glanced over to her door, oblivious to the fact that she had already left and closed it behind her. It presented a unique opportunity to observe him and seek answers to queries which would otherwise be dismissed.

How did he hold himself so confidently when they spoke, the Void tearing at his soul, his mates and den so far away? What soothed him when his sense of smell was so muted, unable to detect his loved ones without visual unless he was almost physically touching them? Why did he look at her so caringly when he knew not what plagued her?

“‘Universal standard’ my ass,” the strange male grumbled under his breath, once more ducking to reach something behind the thin screen. “They can adapt alien tech, but god forbid they cater to backwards compatibility.”

“Does the display utilize an outdated connection?”

A dull thump was followed by a hiss, Bill sitting back on his ankles as he rubbed his head and glanced over his shoulder. “Oh. Hey, Sunshine. I didn’t hear you come out.”

His face all but wrote out his thoughts—surprise, realization, ease, worry, concern, then a tepid smile to cover the former. The friction used to soothe the pain shifted to a poor facade of casualness.

“Are… Is everything…?” The male’s voice faltered in hesitation, his gaze moving in uncertainty until it finally remained on her.

Sunundra returned a small nod, matching the mild awkwardness with her own. “There is much to ruminate on, but I am well enough for now.”

“If you’re sure,” he allowed meekly, a paw gesturing to the screen he was struggling with. He forced his cadence to something more firm. “As for your question, I wanted to show you that video, but I figured just using my laptop wasn't quite enough—it’s a little small for both of us. We have a big flatscreen here that should work though. The only issue is that since I'm using an older model, the port I need to plug into is way in the back, and it's too dark to see what I'm doing.”

She closed the minor distance, circling him a bit to get a better angle then tilting her head as she leaned in. A moment passed before she huffed out a breath in amusement.

“What’s so funny?”

She glanced down, noticing that she was practically hovering over him, though he hardly seemed to mind. Odd. Normally, she would be much more cognizant of the distance she maintained. Perhaps knowing that her scent didn’t bother him had encouraged the closeness.

“I would have assumed you would ask for my assistance, given that you were provided a dossier on my species,” she explained with a slightly playful barb.

“I haven't read much of the debrief, honestly. I didn’t think it was fair for me to know so much more when we’re both supposed to be learning.” He looked up at her, a dry quality added to his voice. “You can see it, can’t you?”

She held her paw out as an answer, smirking as she was given the cable before reaching behind the screen to connect it. A small click declared the success.

“Indeed,” the pale-furred female confirmed, stepping back enough for him to stand. “I take it your vision is poor in dimmer light?”

He rolled his eyes and used a paw on his knee to push himself up, a grunt belying the effort. “I’m not sure what else I expected, but yes, I couldn’t see much of anything behind there.”

He spared her a bemused glare and dropped lazily onto the couch, shifting to one side while gesturing for her to take the other. She obliged after a moment, debating if she should be this excited to see what ‘fireworks’ looked like while pressing down on the instinct to remove the cushion of distance between them.

If she truly desired, she could still reach out and touch him, but doing so was getting ahead of herself. Granted, he had been contact-heavy while she was ill, but such was just to reassure and comfort the sick. She felt some confidence in saying they had achieved something of a friendship—however nascent it was—but risking such by repeating the same mistake she made with Recon was…

She curled up against the arm of the furniture, hugging her knees to her chest while she waited for Bill to finish his preparations.

The feeling of not knowing how to proceed still itched at her. No matter how much she turned the concept over in her head, she simply couldn’t find a path forward in the nebulous stage of their relationship.

Until now, all she had to go off of was various recounts that she overheard; people would often start small, become close, perhaps share a moon together on occasion, then—if all was well—claim each other as mates or form a den. She had only ever succeeded with the first step, and her assumed success with the second had been a forgery of the true experience. Did that mean she was overthinking things and that there was a chance of more? He was an alien… Did his people follow a similar path?

The display flickered, mirroring the smaller screen on his terminal. An image rested behind applications, but she couldn’t quite make out what it was until he closed whatever task he had been doing previously. Fortunately, he did.

A human. Female, if she had to guess, but it was poor practice to assume. Not that she was completely unsure—the person had softer features than Bill, a more dainty form donning a long dress that billowed outwards to suggest the picture was captured during a spinning motion. Like Sunundra’s den-mate, the expressions were broadcasted, a bright smile resting under eyes full of wonder. Colourful lights illuminated the otherwise dark background, though the depth of field rendered them as little more than neon blurs that gave an ethereal quality to the scene. It was gone before she could ask any questions, but she felt it was a fairly safe bet to say the subject was a mate of his.

Why did the thought make her somewhat melancholy?

The large display on the wall changed, a sideways triangle superimposed on top of blackness. She was confused until Bill got up and turned off the lights, reclaiming his spot on the couch and raising his brows in silent query. Her nod prompted him to start the playback. With a clack of the terminal, the triangle was gone, and the depicted image was allowed to flourish, only the glow of the screen illuminating the room.

Countless voices called and shouted over each other through the speakers—some were joyful, while others preferred to tempt passersby into purchasing their wares. The crowd of faces bent and shuffled about, humans of every size moving like an ocean controlled by unseen methods. Lights, music, and the occasional chimes of odd bells could be heard during brief moments where the yelling of kits softened.

Booths lined the broad passageways, bright signs and enthusiastic staff welcoming visitors, the public ebbing and flowing between them. Food was sold near tables, people often choosing to simply take their meals with them as they explored. One stall provided floating rubber-like sacks on a string, each quickly claimed before following the young and small responsible for them. Activities were offered at some locations, including a skill-based fishing game, tossing disks at targets, shooting water or small projectiles at facsimiles of strangely painted humans, and hitting flashing buttons with the correct timing.

All of it was alien, all of it operated on an entire history of context she didn't have, and all of it was fascinating…but her eyes remained where the obvious focus of the person holding the device was fixed, a soft longing of unknown origin blooming in her heart.

Two kits of different ages stayed near a female human, the younger of the two tethered by the paw to their caretaker. Every shiny object or interesting concept pulled them away, excitement tinting the smaller voice as they bargained with the den-mother to oblige. The female offered an exuberant laugh as she beckoned for…

Sunundra glanced away from the screen, her gaze settling on the male next to her, his own rapt attention stolen by a memory playing out on the display. His eyes were what struck a chord within her; they looked upon the recording with such surprise and shattered fondness that it opened a pit in her stomach, the yawning maw waiting for a single push to devour her, yet she was held afloat by something immaterial.

“Bill! Stop filming and help me keep him from bouncing off the walls!” The soft female voice called mirthfully, a laugh colouring her tone.

The pale-furred female’s stare remained on her den-mate, his lips following along with the video, as if remembering something long since forgotten.

“That’s what happens when you load them with sugar and take them to a festival.”

“I thought you would hide the snacks better!”

Bill's lips curled into a wistful smile, the lights on the screen reflecting off his dampened eyes. “Then you have made a grave mistake, my lady.”

“I hate you.”

His whisper joined the one in the recording, forming a weak echo of a time long since passed. It was too quiet for it to be anything but a reflex—an action taken so many times that performing it became a habit, even through a screen. “Love you too, dear.”

Sunundra forced herself to look away from him and focused back on the display. The sinking sensation never fully went away, but the embarrassment that came from staring so much was easier to manage. It felt like something she was never supposed to notice, yet she was captivated all the same.

The file quickly skipped forward a few times, only a frame offered for context before the next scene replaced it.

“Sorry,” Bill offered sheepishly. “I didn't know I had two videos with the same name. I'll only be a second.”

She gave a soft hum of acknowledgement, her thoughts otherwise preoccupied. Was the female one of his mates? That was likely, considering everything she had seen so far. Were the young his den-kits, or were they his blood-kits? Den-kits, surely, but direct parentage wasn't impossible.

The more she mulled it over, the more she came to acknowledge just how little she knew about him. Such could be said about his knowledge of her as well, but he had already made several attempts to learn. She only ever tried to ascertain the boundaries placed by his people, comparing them to the framework she was used to, then forming plans around it so she could operate without fear of an ill-informed decision ending in rejection. The questions which she did voice were shallow in nature. Everything which pertained to who he was as an individual was just assumed or inferred.

Watching a fragment of his past made that painfully clear. He had much to return to, and she had given that last of what she possessed for nothing.

“Should be about here,” Bill announced as he started the video again.

The once boisterous crowd had quieted, their group having left the busy streets and since settled themselves alongside a lake under the moonlight. Silence grew until all were quiet—save for the mewling kits or hushed conversation. A moment passed before the mass of people shouted in unison. A countdown slowly reaching zero then followed by a messy chorus of voices.

“Happy Unification Day!”

Streaks of light soared upwards, barely more than sparkling strings in the distance. She expected more, honest—

The sky exploded into a cacophony of light.

Reds, blues, greens, and every other colour shimmered in various shapes. Stars, circles, spheres, and crinkling dots filled the skyline and were reflected off the water. They detonated in sequences and patterns, often crafting large displays of text or complex images. Some screeched, others popped, and yet more performed in perfect quiet. It was memorizing. It was exciting. It was…

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Bill whispered as the last firework went off, stealing her attention. All she could offer was a nod. “This is why I don't think your career says anything bad about who you are. There's a bunch of people in charge of making and choreographing that kind of thing. There's more to explosives than violence. It can be art too.”

Her gaze fell to the rods on the coffee table. They were…considerably less impressive when compared to what she just witnessed. Unfortunately, he noticed what she was looking at, reaching out to inspect the new item before she could stop him.

“What's this? Yours?”

“Y-yes. I…crafted some when you mentioned…” Her voice caught in her throat, the fear of disappointing him stacking on top of the other cold depths already present.

“Wait. You made fireworks?”

She blinked at the surprise in his tone. “They are lesser in function than you are familiar with.”

He fell quiet, speaking in an unusual softness. “Can you show me? If it’s safe to use inside, I mean.”

The pale-furred female hesitated, grabbing a second rod off the table when Bill started to seem even further discouraged. A simple gesture was enough for him to relinquish the one he took. She held a rod in each paw, then scraped them together with a flick, passing one back to him.

“It will activate in a moment,” she explained, his confusion evident as he accepted it.

His attention moved to the rod, curiously examining it as best he could while keeping his arm outstretched over the coffee table, unsure of what would happen. Sunundra simply watched him, her own rod held suspended above her lap. Would he find it as underwhelming as she feared?

A spark. Two. Hundreds quickly joined in, mist pouring from the surface as the rod became a tiny beacon amongst the dark room. Bill’s eyes widened as he made an effort not to be struck by the flickering motes. Her own burned softly, yet she only viewed him, unconcerned about burns after so many iterations of the compound—it cooled instantly, and the haze was merely a chemical reaction which dissipated heat too quickly to bring harm.

For the brief time it was reacting, his visage matched that of the female in the image, wonder shining in his eyes. Only when the final sparks sputtered out did he look at her.

“You made sparklers?” he asked, a weight present in his tone as wetness took over the end.

She glanced down at her own expended rod—or ‘sparkler,’ she supposed—with a hint of apprehension. “I stumbled across the compound many years ago. I often make them after…difficult missions. I find it soothing to watch.”

“They're great,” he assured softly, though his enthusiasm felt forced, his paws resting limp on his lap. Apparently, his thoughts were elsewhere, as the smile didn't quite look as genuine, and a slight shimmer rested in his eyes.

The video continued in the background, all but forgotten due to the more quiet chatter of the recorded event coming to an end, dens and friends preparing to leave. The voice of the female drew Sunundra's eyes to it, a scene playing out that contextualized some things.

The two human offspring held much more volatile versions of what she had crafted, the female cooing her joy to the young and reminding them not to burn themselves. The smallest asked if they would attend the event every year, to which she replied favorably, adding on a playful wish to do so with a new alien friend. The video ended as she looked up at the one operating the recording device—at Bill.

Love. Promise. Hope. A bright curiosity and lively expression. All of it gazed at him, undying and eternal. Sunundra asked the first question that appeared in her mind, unsatisfied with assumptions.

“Is she…”

“My wife. She passed away a few years ago,” Bill whispered, a tear falling to his paws as he remained transfixed on the frozen frame. “That was the first celebration of joining the Union, but she got sick before the second.”

Sunundra swallowed the lead weight forming in her throat, unable to do more than suffer the gaping maw of the Void creeping up on her as she finally realized who he had been talking to before resting each moon.

“She wanted to meet all the new species. She wanted to…but she couldn’t. She didn't have the energy…”

More droplets of sorrow poured like blood from an open wound, every sentence getting harder and harder for him to voice.

“I looked after her as best I could, but we couldn't afford everything she needed. We couldn't afford much of anything, really. After our oldest moved out, I kept coming home to a son who needed more than I could give and a wife that hated what she had become… The burden she couldn’t help with.”

He wiped at his eyes, finally looking at the pale-furred female with a tortured smile.

“She would have done anything to be here right now. To meet you and learn about the other species. I couldn’t say no when they offered—I had to do it, if just for her. She's always dreamed of this kind of thing.”

His gaze returned to his lap, sobs barely withheld by tightly clutching the inert sparkler.

“Thank you for reminding me I had this video, and thank you for making something like this for me. I love it.”

Sunundra didn't respond. She was lost in the urge ripping at her throat and viciously burrowing into her chest. The Void called for her. For him. He wasn’t ‘somehow fine’ like she had thought, he was just barely hanging on. Exactly as she had been for so very, very long.

She moved to do what she had always wished another would have done for her, thought passing too slowly to stop it. She crossed the cushion worth of space to embrace him as tightly as she could. Tight enough that he wouldn't succumb to the beckoning expanse. Tight enough to tell him someone was there. Tight enough to never lose him. Tight enough to banish the Void.

Tight enough to be his Sunshine when the black threatened to strip him of all illumination.

His paws silently returned a light pressure, the shudders telling her that he needed a moment to suffer the unearthed sorrow. She didn't mind. She would hold him until the sting had lessened, and then until he wished no more. She would stay with him as long as she could.

Never in her life had something felt so right.