Summary: In all the eras of Hyrule's history Wild has travelled to with the heroes of courage, red is considered a feminine color.
Wild likes the color red.
Or: A fic that follows Wild’s journey to discover themselves
Author's notes: Even if you've read the beginning of this fic in the past, I would strongly recommend you go reread it, as I've rewritten some things
TW: Internalized transphobia, gender dysphoria, body dysphoria, fear of social backlash for transitioning, body image issues (mentioned), self hate.
(Read on AO3)
~~~
The group stays in Kakariko for two more days, resting and making preparations for the journey to Zora’s domain.
On the dawn of the third day, before the sun has even risen above the peaks surrounding Kakariko, Wild is awoken by someone gently shaking their shoulder. They groan out something unintelligible, and the hand retreats, letting them pull themself out of the haze of sleep.
The room is cast in a dim golden glow, not from the dawning sun, but from a lantern sitting on the table next to the bed. Wild groans again, slightly more coherent as they roll over to blink up at the shadowy form of Zel, who is still in their bed clothes, having clearly just rolled out of their bed herself.
“Time to get up,” Zel whispers, before moving away to get dressed for the day. Wild sits up, taking a moment to stretch out their stiff muscles. They look across the room and see that Paya’s bed is already empty and neatly made. Paya herself is nowhere to be seen.
“Paya’s already up?”
Zel hummed in agreement as they pulled a tunic over their head. “She left a few minutes ago to go make sure your friends are awake and getting ready. And she said she’s got a few more things to take care of before we leave.”
Zel turns towards them and tosses them their typical blue tunic, the one that had been lovingly stitched by Zel’s own hand. Wild doesn’t bother to catch it, letting the soft fabric hit them in the face. Zel laughs at them, then says, “Come on, get dressed. I’ll go make sure the fire’s built up and put on a pot of tea.”
“‘Kay,” Wild manages to mumble out around a jaw-cracking yawn, and Zel leaves the room, pulling a cloak around themselves to help weather the early morning chill.
Wild groans as they pull on the tunic Zel had tossed them. They cringe as they feel how tight it is across their shoulders and chest. Their hands instinctively run down their front, finding it flat as it always was, and they desperately want to take off the tight fitting tunic.
They don’t, of course. Wild knows better by now; if they wake up feeling like this, nothing they wear will make them feel any better. Trying to find a tunic that doesn’t make them feel like shriveling into themself will only waste their time. Some days are just like that.
By the time they’ve gotten dressed, finished collecting all of their things that have ended up scattered across Paya’s room over the last few days, and made it downstairs, the first hints of light have started to appear in the sky. It’s early, certainly earlier than the heroes usually wake up, especially when they have the luxury of staying in a town for a night, but the journey to Zora’s Domain would take two full days of travel, and they would still probably be arriving after dark on the second day. The earlier they hit the road today, the better.
Zel had kept their word, rekindling the fire on the ground floor and brewing a pot of strong tea for them to share before Wild got started on breakfast. Wild knelt next to them at the low table, accepting the cup handed to them with a muttered thanks.
There’s a silence between them as they drink their tea in the stillness of the morning. Zel breaks it once they’re finished with their tea, setting down their cup and turning to Wild. “I’m a woman again." There’s a clear note in her voice that tells Wild just how relieved she is to tell someone this fact.
Wild looks at her out of the corner of their eye even as they nod. There's nothing different about her this morning that would indicate the change. Wild wonders why it changes for Zel, when the feeling of alienation from the very concept of both manhood and womanhood is so constant for them. Wild can’t seem to find their place in either. They don’t want to be a man, and no matter how they try, they can't quite convince themself-
They decide it doesn’t matter.
All that matters is that Zel is happy, and she clearly is. Wild being able to understand wouldn’t change anything.
Their nod seems to satisfy Zel. She smiles at them, and neither of them speaks again until they leave the building.
The smell of Wild cooking breakfast in the communal cooking area between the High Spirits produce store and the Elder’s house was enough to draw the heroes out of the warmth of the inn. Another half hour, and everyone was fed and ready to go as sunlight started to spill across the sky in earnest.
The road out of Kakariko follows a long-dried riverbed, which had carved a deep canyon into the stony hills, and the sun wasn’t visible over the tall cliffs that sheltered Kakariko, leaving their beginning path cloaked in shadows.
Wild is glad for the shade and the chill that comes with it. They’re glad for the excuse to pull their cloak around themself to hide their form from sight as best they could.
Eventually, they fell into step next to Zel at the head of the pack, with Paya walking on her other side. The three of them were leading the group, and the thought of the gazes of those walking behind them made Wild shiver unpleasantly.
It was a little strange to Wild to be the one leading the group. Usually, it was Time and Warriors making decisions about what path they would take. Wild, who was well known for wandering and generally disregarding marked trails and roads, was rarely asked for their opinion on where they should go. The strangeness does nothing but add to the ever-present feeling of eyes on them, and they hunch in on themselves a little more as they walk. This feeling of anxiety at being seen isn’t foreign to Wild, but it’s worse than usual today.
They don’t want to be here. They want to be walking in the back of the group, avoiding eye contact with anyone, like they usually did when things got this bad.
Better yet, they want to be somewhere deep in a forest where no one would ever stumble upon them. But, given they were the only one among the heroes who was familiar with the area and the only one with a map, they’re given the lead.
The road to the Domain would be mostly clear of monsters, at least for the first day. Impa had said that she had sent out patrols to clean up from the previous blood moon in preparation for Zel and Paya travelling to the Domain for the Council of Champions.
Now, with such a large group, monsters are less of a concern. Still, the whole group is armed. The heroes all have their usual weapons, though Wild has swapped out their latest nondescript sword for their era’s Master Sword, and given their sword to Zel.
Paya looks unarmed, but she carries her Bo staff with her. To the uninformed, it looked like she‘s simply carrying a walking stick at her side, but Wild knows better. Warriors does too, Wild realizes as they catch him casting a considering glance at her. Good. It’ll be nice for someone else to know how efficient Paya is with her weapons and isn’t tricked by her shy demeanor.
Besides the sour feeling that’s settled in Wild’s stomach, the morning hike is pleasant. The first part of their journey is mostly downhill, so the walking is easy. Even when they emerge from the canyon and have to deal with the brunt of the sun’s morning rays, there's a stiff breeze to cool them off.
With the roads being cleared by Sheikah warriors, the only monsters they spot are a few octoroks. The ones that are stupid enough to try spitting rocks at the group are swiftly taken care of by their bows, the group barely breaking pace to deal with the nuisances.
Wild did their best not to be distracted from the path. Their tendency to be distracted by hunting and gathering off the path was useful for discovering hidden secrets and finding enough food to feed nine hungry heroes, but now wasn’t the time.
Zel helps keep them on track, keeping them engaged in a quiet idle conversation. Paya says little, just listening, and no one else approaches the three of them for most of the morning.
It’s well past noon, with Wind unashamedly asking when they were going to have lunch, when Wild spots the first sign of their first stop of the journey. A towering plume of smoke is peeking over the hills. Wild has fun pointing it out to Wind, and seeing the sailor get excited at spotting the towering wooden horsehead with his telescope.
It marks their approach to the Wetland Stable. They’d stop there to rest their feet and eat something for their midday meal before carrying on.
They receive a warm welcome at the stable. Paya and Warriors go to greet the Lawdon and Ami, the couple who run the Stable, and are pulled into a friendly chat, with the stablemasters asking Paya to thank her grandmother for the monsters being cleared away.
The rest of the heroes disperse. Some go to wander the woods next to the stable, some go down to the river, and Wild catches sight of Twilight hopping the fence of the sheep pen behind the stable and leading one of the docile animals over so Hyrule and Wind can pet it.
Wild nearly gets mobbed by Zenni and Talma, the young twin daughters of Lawdon and Ami. Zel helps entertain them while Wild spends the next half hour crouched by the cooking pot making omelets for their midday meal. They catch their parents shooting them grateful glances for keeping the kids from getting underfoot.
Wild hands the omelets off to whoever is closest once they finish a batch, including the kids. Eventually, everyone but Zel and themself has been fed, and the kids have gotten bored of the stories Zel is telling, running off to eat inside the tent.
Zel accepts the second to last plate, but sets it to the side, not eating yet. Once Wild finally finishes, they’re approached by Ami before they can start cleaning up the cooking area.
“We’ll take care of cleaning up, Champions,” Ami tells them. “Least we can do after you entertain and feed the kiddos.”
“You sure?” Wild asks, tilting their head. Zel smacks their shoulder playfully.
“Ever heard of looking a gift horse in the mouth?” She teases, and then turns her attention to Ami. “Thank you, we really appreciate it. Your hospitality remains unmatched.”
Ami grins. “Don’t let any of the other stablemasters hear you say that,” She jokes, but the flush to her cheeks tells Wild that she’s pleased by Zel’s words.
Zel drags them off in the direction of the river, plates in hand. They pass Legend, who’s finished eating and is laying down for a quick nap in the shade of the tent, using his bag as a pillow. Wild can’t tell if he’s really asleep or just has his eyes closed. They don’t see anyone else on their way down to the docks. Everyone is either inside the tent eating, or out of sight elsewhere.
Eating down on the docks is peaceful, and they both strip off their boots and roll up their pants to dip their feet in the river as they eat. Their feet sway idly, the cold water a welcome relief after walking all morning. In fact, it would be downright pleasant if it weren’t for the dark emotions that had been growing in the pit of Wild’s stomach the whole morning.
The sun reflects off the water, hiding the depths from their gaze. Once Wild finishes eating, they set their plate aside and lean forward to catch a glimpse of themselves in the water’s rippling reflection.
They can catch flashes of their long hair, and they can’t make out the specifics of their face. They feel… better, just for a moment.
Then the water stills, and their face comes into sharper relief, and they can clearly see every angle of themselves. There can't be any pretending when they’re thrown into such sharp relief. Their momentary feeling of peace shatters, leaving them feeling hollow, and they can do nothing but meet the dead-eyed gaze of their reflection.
A sudden splash breaks their concentration. Zel had flicked her feet in their direction, disturbing and distorting their reflection, and splashing water onto their rolled up pants legs.
“What are you thinking about?” Her voice is light and jovial. If Wild were in any other mood, they might have retaliated as she clearly expected them to. They might have splashed her back, or cracked a joke, maybe even pushed her off the dock if they felt like getting pulled in after her.
But they aren’t in any other mood. The foul mood that’s followed them all day from the moment they'd pulled on their tunic is still settled in their chest, and no matter how many miles they'd walked, it refused to loosen its grip.
Wild thinks back to this morning.
I'm a woman again, Zel had said.
The words had been so simple, and so certain. Wild had been happy for her. They still are. But ever since she'd said them, they'd been turning over and over in Wild's mind.
Wild doesn't know what that certainty feels like. Because if they weren't a man… Then what were they? They knew what they wanted to be, if they let themself think about it. But it felt so far away, so impossible. Their fingers curl around the edge of the dock until the wood presses harshly into their palms.
The words force their way out before they can stop them.
“I’m not a woman.”
“Okay?” Zel looks genuinely confused, which Wild uncharitably thinks is unfair. Why didn’t Zel understand? Of all people, they thought she would-
That she-
Why didn’t she-
Their mind starts to become muddled together in their head, turning into a swirl of frustration that doesn’t let them put any of their thoughts to words.
When Wild says nothing and continues to stare blankly at the ripples in the river, Zel continues. “You don't have to be a woman.” She pauses for a moment, then seems to come to some conclusion. “Is this because of what I said this morning? Wild, just because I-”
Wild cuts her off with an outburst so loud they fear it might be heard from the stable. “I want to be!” They wince at their volume, but they can’t stop the words from spilling out of their mouth.
It’s reminiscent of when they’d first realized they hadn’t wanted to be a man. The realization bursts out of them in a torrent of hurt and grief that had been building up for a while, but they’d ignored.
They can’t ignore it now.
But despite the hurt that digs deep into their soul, it’s not the same as it was last time. The difference is that now, there’s someone here to hold their hand. Instead of Wild grasping at the dirt so tightly it ends up embedded under their fingernails for days, Zel grips their hands with both of hers, forcing them to turn towards her.
“Wild, if you want to be a woman, then you are one!” Zel looks a little startled, a little afraid, maybe, of how their seemingly calm mood had flipped on its head so quickly. Wild doesn’t tell her that their relaxed mood had been a facade for nearly the entire day.
“But I don’t feel like one. I feel so wrong, and I hate my body. I hate when people look at me. No one is ever going to look at me and see what I want them to.” Wild starts to trip over their words as their voice starts to waver and burning tears well up in their eyes. “Not what I’m supposed to- I wish I was- never-”
“Wild!” Zel’s voice is sharp. Sharp enough that it startles them out of the spiral they’d been in. They realize they’ve been gripping Zel’s hand so hard her fingers are starting to turn pale. They release their grip and try to jerk their hands away, but Zel doesn’t let them go.
“If you want to be a woman, then you are one!” Her voice is forceful now, more than they’d heard in a long time. She’s nearly snapping out her words. “It does not matter what you look like or what anyone else thinks of you. Them being wrong about what you are isn’t your problem, and if anyone’s being rude about it, I’ll-”
Wild will never find out what Zel would have done, because they cut her off. “No. No one’s being rude.” They haven’t even told anyone except Zel and Riju. How could anyone be rude about something they don’t know?
That doesn’t seem to placate Zel much. “Well, it seems like you're being pretty rude to yourself, Wild.” She huffs, but her voice starts to soften. She drops their hand, only to scooch closer and link their arms together instead. ”I don’t like that you think that way about yourself. Will you please tell me what’s got you thinking like this?”
Wild shakes their head, suddenly feeling too overwhelmed to speak. Zel waits for them, though, and eventually they can croak out. “I want to be a woman, Zel. When people look at me- I don’t- It feels like everyone is staring at me, and it feels like they’re seeing every part of myself that I hate. But I can’t tell them they're wrong. I feel like I should be a man. I mean all the heroes have been men before.”
They somewhat expect Zel to interrupt them then, but she stays silent, giving them time to speak their mind fully. They take a shuddering breath, and continue stuttering through their explanation. “I mean- I think something must be wrong with me. I’m not supposed to want to be a woman. What will they- what will people think?”
It’s a relief for Wild to finally say everything they’ve been thinking, even if their explanation is poor. They don’t necessarily feel better for it, but saying it out loud helps sort their thoughts a little.
What they had said cut to the heart of it: Wild wanted to be a woman, and they feared what other people would think about them for it. They feared what their friends would think about them. What their brothers would think of them.
Zel takes a long time before she says anything. If it had been anyone else, Wild would have panicked at the long silence, but they know she’s just thinking about what to say. She stays next to them, arm looped with theirs the whole time.
“I think,” she starts slowly, “that what you want is more important than what you’re supposed to want. And anyone who’s worth knowing won’t care what you do as long as you’re not hurting anyone.”
She’s talking about the other heroes, and Wild knows she’s right. The heroes are a very forgiving bunch, and they’re all used to the strange and unusual. The only time Wild’s ever seen any of them raise their hands, or swords, or even their words, against a fellow Hylian was when someone was being cruel to others.
They wouldn’t be cruel, Wild knows. Not on purpouse, at least.
There’s a long pause.
“It’s about what you want, Wild,“ Zel insists. “Everything else doesn’t matter.”
Wild shrugged, not willing to agree just yet.
“Just think about it. Please? And if you start to feel like this again, please tell me, tell someone, before you get to this point? Can you at least agree to that?”
Wild hesitates, but they know Zel isn’t asking for much. “Okay,” they admit. “Okay, I’ll try.”
Zel beams at them, and they can’t help but return the smile.
~~~
If any one had heard any of their conversion with Zel, they do an excellent job of not showing it when the group starts to gather again. No one seeks them out before they rejoin the group, at least.
Once everyone sgtarts to gorup up again, and Wild and Zel make their way over, several of the heroes do a double take when they see Wild. They’re sure they don’t look too good right now, and wouldn’t be surprised if their eyes were red from their unshed tears. The way Zel is still clinging to their arm probably tells them something too.
It’s Time who actually approaches them. He starts by offering a casual thanks for lunch, which Wild brushes off as they always do; cooking isn’t a chore for them. Then Time pauses and looks at Wild with that piercing gaze of his, a sliver of his white eye peeing out from under the drooping lid of his bad eye, and simply asks if Wild is okay.
They exchange a look with Zel, who just shrugs.
“I think I’ll be alright, Time.” They know better than to try to lie to the old man, but they also don’t want to talk about it with him.
Time dips his head in acknowledgement, and leaves them alone. The rest of the heroes also turn their attention away, apparently satisfied with Time being placated.
The stablemasters and their twins cheerfully bid the group farewell, and the eleven of them set off with little fanfare. The afternoon’s walk is just as quiet as the morning’s, and they reach their stopping place for the night in no time.
Trillby Plain is a good halfway point between Kakariko and the Domain, and the nearby river provides an excellent opportunity for Time, Twilight, and Wind to break out their fishing poles and catch a few trout for Wild to cook for dinner. They serve it with rice and fried greens, and the rest of the evening is spent lazily around the fire.
Wild doesn’t involve themself in the conversations around the fire, or in Hyrule and Legend’s firendly competition on who can shoot down the most keese. They see Warriors and Twilight watching him a few times, a mix of wariness and concern on their faces. They know it’s unusual for them to be so quiet, but they just don’t have the energy to act like their usual self.
The emotional toll of the day is weighing heavy, and they’re looking forward to collapsing into their sleeping bag. They’re thankful when Hyrule, Warriors, and Legend volunteer for watch duty, and almost immediately crawl into bed.
The talk around the fire quiets down then, the others being mindful of Wild trying to get some rest.
It’s not long before they slip into sleep. Their dreams are soft that night, filled with relief and joy and…
~~~
Zel laughs as she tugs on Wild's hand, pulling her forward. Wild nearly trips over the hem of her long skirt, but Zel catches her before she can stumble. They dissolve into shared giggles.
Turning to someone whose face Wild can't quite make out, Zel smiles with easy pride. “This is my wife, Wild.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you,” Wild says, dipping into a small curtsey. Her heart feels impossibly light.
~~~
Wild wakes to a welling sense of joy.
It’s a very unusual feeling for them. Usually, if they wake from a dream, it’s because their own terror has roughly jerked them out of a nightmare. The fact that happiness is what wakes them this time is strange.
It could be real. They could really have that, if they wanted to. Perhaps not being married to Zel; They’re sure she has her eyes set on someone else for that particular role, and Wild couldn’t be happier for her. But the rest of it…
Zel’s words echo in their brain. It’s about what you want, Wild.
Well. Wild did want that. Wild wants to be a woman, wants to be a she.
It was freeing to let herself think it without the thought dripping with shame and grief.
Wild lets herself imagine a world where she could wear whatever clothes she wanted without fear of shame, where someone might call her Ma’am without correcting themselves in a rush, where she might look at herself and be content with what she sees.
Sure, there was a possibility that she would face backlash, but if she could have that joy in real life, if she could experience just an ounce of the happiness the dream had given her…
Maybe that potential joy was worth any potential pain.
Summary: In all the eras of Hyrule's history Wild has travelled to with the heroes of courage, red is considered a feminine color.
Wild likes the color red.
Or: A fic that follows Wild’s journey to discover themselves
Author's notes: Even if you've read the beginning of this fic in the past, I would strongly recommend you go reread it, as I've rewritten some things
TW: Internalized transphobia, gender dysphoria, body dysphoria, fear of social backlash for transitioning, body image issues (mentioned), self hate.
(Read on AO3)
~~~
The group stays in Kakariko for two more days, resting and making preparations for the journey to Zora’s domain.
On the dawn of the third day, before the sun has even risen above the peaks surrounding Kakariko, Wild is awoken by someone gently shaking their shoulder. They groan out something unintelligible, and the hand retreats, letting them pull themself out of the haze of sleep.
The room is cast in a dim golden glow, not from the dawning sun, but from a lantern sitting on the table next to the bed. Wild groans again, slightly more coherent as they roll over to blink up at the shadowy form of Zel, who is still in their bed clothes, having clearly just rolled out of their bed herself.
“Time to get up,” Zel whispers, before moving away to get dressed for the day. Wild sits up, taking a moment to stretch out their stiff muscles. They look across the room and see that Paya’s bed is already empty and neatly made. Paya herself is nowhere to be seen.
“Paya’s already up?”
Zel hummed in agreement as they pulled a tunic over their head. “She left a few minutes ago to go make sure your friends are awake and getting ready. And she said she’s got a few more things to take care of before we leave.”
Zel turns towards them and tosses them their typical blue tunic, the one that had been lovingly stitched by Zel’s own hand. Wild doesn’t bother to catch it, letting the soft fabric hit them in the face. Zel laughs at them, then says, “Come on, get dressed. I’ll go make sure the fire’s built up and put on a pot of tea.”
“‘Kay,” Wild manages to mumble out around a jaw-cracking yawn, and Zel leaves the room, pulling a cloak around themselves to help weather the early morning chill.
Wild groans as they pull on the tunic Zel had tossed them. They cringe as they feel how tight it is across their shoulders and chest. Their hands instinctively run down their front, finding it flat as it always was, and they desperately want to take off the tight fitting tunic.
They don’t, of course. Wild knows better by now; if they wake up feeling like this, nothing they wear will make them feel any better. Trying to find a tunic that doesn’t make them feel like shriveling into themself will only waste their time. Some days are just like that.
By the time they’ve gotten dressed, finished collecting all of their things that have ended up scattered across Paya’s room over the last few days, and made it downstairs, the first hints of light have started to appear in the sky. It’s early, certainly earlier than the heroes usually wake up, especially when they have the luxury of staying in a town for a night, but the journey to Zora’s Domain would take two full days of travel, and they would still probably be arriving after dark on the second day. The earlier they hit the road today, the better.
Zel had kept their word, rekindling the fire on the ground floor and brewing a pot of strong tea for them to share before Wild got started on breakfast. Wild knelt next to them at the low table, accepting the cup handed to them with a muttered thanks.
There’s a silence between them as they drink their tea in the stillness of the morning. Zel breaks it once they’re finished with their tea, setting down their cup and turning to Wild. “I’m a woman again." There’s a clear note in her voice that tells Wild just how relieved she is to tell someone this fact.
Wild looks at her out of the corner of their eye even as they nod. There's nothing different about her this morning that would indicate the change. Wild wonders why it changes for Zel, when the feeling of alienation from the very concept of both manhood and womanhood is so constant for them. Wild can’t seem to find their place in either. They don’t want to be a man, and no matter how they try, they can't quite convince themself-
They decide it doesn’t matter.
All that matters is that Zel is happy, and she clearly is. Wild being able to understand wouldn’t change anything.
Their nod seems to satisfy Zel. She smiles at them, and neither of them speaks again until they leave the building.
The smell of Wild cooking breakfast in the communal cooking area between the High Spirits produce store and the Elder’s house was enough to draw the heroes out of the warmth of the inn. Another half hour, and everyone was fed and ready to go as sunlight started to spill across the sky in earnest.
The road out of Kakariko follows a long-dried riverbed, which had carved a deep canyon into the stony hills, and the sun wasn’t visible over the tall cliffs that sheltered Kakariko, leaving their beginning path cloaked in shadows.
Wild is glad for the shade and the chill that comes with it. They’re glad for the excuse to pull their cloak around themself to hide their form from sight as best they could.
Eventually, they fell into step next to Zel at the head of the pack, with Paya walking on her other side. The three of them were leading the group, and the thought of the gazes of those walking behind them made Wild shiver unpleasantly.
It was a little strange to Wild to be the one leading the group. Usually, it was Time and Warriors making decisions about what path they would take. Wild, who was well known for wandering and generally disregarding marked trails and roads, was rarely asked for their opinion on where they should go. The strangeness does nothing but add to the ever-present feeling of eyes on them, and they hunch in on themselves a little more as they walk. This feeling of anxiety at being seen isn’t foreign to Wild, but it’s worse than usual today.
They don’t want to be here. They want to be walking in the back of the group, avoiding eye contact with anyone, like they usually did when things got this bad.
Better yet, they want to be somewhere deep in a forest where no one would ever stumble upon them. But, given they were the only one among the heroes who was familiar with the area and the only one with a map, they’re given the lead.
The road to the Domain would be mostly clear of monsters, at least for the first day. Impa had said that she had sent out patrols to clean up from the previous blood moon in preparation for Zel and Paya travelling to the Domain for the Council of Champions.
Now, with such a large group, monsters are less of a concern. Still, the whole group is armed. The heroes all have their usual weapons, though Wild has swapped out their latest nondescript sword for their era’s Master Sword, and given their sword to Zel.
Paya looks unarmed, but she carries her Bo staff with her. To the uninformed, it looked like she‘s simply carrying a walking stick at her side, but Wild knows better. Warriors does too, Wild realizes as they catch him casting a considering glance at her. Good. It’ll be nice for someone else to know how efficient Paya is with her weapons and isn’t tricked by her shy demeanor.
Besides the sour feeling that’s settled in Wild’s stomach, the morning hike is pleasant. The first part of their journey is mostly downhill, so the walking is easy. Even when they emerge from the canyon and have to deal with the brunt of the sun’s morning rays, there's a stiff breeze to cool them off.
With the roads being cleared by Sheikah warriors, the only monsters they spot are a few octoroks. The ones that are stupid enough to try spitting rocks at the group are swiftly taken care of by their bows, the group barely breaking pace to deal with the nuisances.
Wild did their best not to be distracted from the path. Their tendency to be distracted by hunting and gathering off the path was useful for discovering hidden secrets and finding enough food to feed nine hungry heroes, but now wasn’t the time.
Zel helps keep them on track, keeping them engaged in a quiet idle conversation. Paya says little, just listening, and no one else approaches the three of them for most of the morning.
It’s well past noon, with Wind unashamedly asking when they were going to have lunch, when Wild spots the first sign of their first stop of the journey. A towering plume of smoke is peeking over the hills. Wild has fun pointing it out to Wind, and seeing the sailor get excited at spotting the towering wooden horsehead with his telescope.
It marks their approach to the Wetland Stable. They’d stop there to rest their feet and eat something for their midday meal before carrying on.
They receive a warm welcome at the stable. Paya and Warriors go to greet the Lawdon and Ami, the couple who run the Stable, and are pulled into a friendly chat, with the stablemasters asking Paya to thank her grandmother for the monsters being cleared away.
The rest of the heroes disperse. Some go to wander the woods next to the stable, some go down to the river, and Wild catches sight of Twilight hopping the fence of the sheep pen behind the stable and leading one of the docile animals over so Hyrule and Wind can pet it.
Wild nearly gets mobbed by Zenni and Talma, the young twin daughters of Lawdon and Ami. Zel helps entertain them while Wild spends the next half hour crouched by the cooking pot making omelets for their midday meal. They catch their parents shooting them grateful glances for keeping the kids from getting underfoot.
Wild hands the omelets off to whoever is closest once they finish a batch, including the kids. Eventually, everyone but Zel and themself has been fed, and the kids have gotten bored of the stories Zel is telling, running off to eat inside the tent.
Zel accepts the second to last plate, but sets it to the side, not eating yet. Once Wild finally finishes, they’re approached by Ami before they can start cleaning up the cooking area.
“We’ll take care of cleaning up, Champions,” Ami tells them. “Least we can do after you entertain and feed the kiddos.”
“You sure?” Wild asks, tilting their head. Zel smacks their shoulder playfully.
“Ever heard of looking a gift horse in the mouth?” She teases, and then turns her attention to Ami. “Thank you, we really appreciate it. Your hospitality remains unmatched.”
Ami grins. “Don’t let any of the other stablemasters hear you say that,” She jokes, but the flush to her cheeks tells Wild that she’s pleased by Zel’s words.
Zel drags them off in the direction of the river, plates in hand. They pass Legend, who’s finished eating and is laying down for a quick nap in the shade of the tent, using his bag as a pillow. Wild can’t tell if he’s really asleep or just has his eyes closed. They don’t see anyone else on their way down to the docks. Everyone is either inside the tent eating, or out of sight elsewhere.
Eating down on the docks is peaceful, and they both strip off their boots and roll up their pants to dip their feet in the river as they eat. Their feet sway idly, the cold water a welcome relief after walking all morning. In fact, it would be downright pleasant if it weren’t for the dark emotions that had been growing in the pit of Wild’s stomach the whole morning.
The sun reflects off the water, hiding the depths from their gaze. Once Wild finishes eating, they set their plate aside and lean forward to catch a glimpse of themselves in the water’s rippling reflection.
They can catch flashes of their long hair, and they can’t make out the specifics of their face. They feel… better, just for a moment.
Then the water stills, and their face comes into sharper relief, and they can clearly see every angle of themselves. There can't be any pretending when they’re thrown into such sharp relief. Their momentary feeling of peace shatters, leaving them feeling hollow, and they can do nothing but meet the dead-eyed gaze of their reflection.
A sudden splash breaks their concentration. Zel had flicked her feet in their direction, disturbing and distorting their reflection, and splashing water onto their rolled up pants legs.
“What are you thinking about?” Her voice is light and jovial. If Wild were in any other mood, they might have retaliated as she clearly expected them to. They might have splashed her back, or cracked a joke, maybe even pushed her off the dock if they felt like getting pulled in after her.
But they aren’t in any other mood. The foul mood that’s followed them all day from the moment they'd pulled on their tunic is still settled in their chest, and no matter how many miles they'd walked, it refused to loosen its grip.
Wild thinks back to this morning.
I'm a woman again, Zel had said.
The words had been so simple, and so certain. Wild had been happy for her. They still are. But ever since she'd said them, they'd been turning over and over in Wild's mind.
Wild doesn't know what that certainty feels like. Because if they weren't a man… Then what were they? They knew what they wanted to be, if they let themself think about it. But it felt so far away, so impossible. Their fingers curl around the edge of the dock until the wood presses harshly into their palms.
The words force their way out before they can stop them.
“I’m not a woman.”
“Okay?” Zel looks genuinely confused, which Wild uncharitably thinks is unfair. Why didn’t Zel understand? Of all people, they thought she would-
That she-
Why didn’t she-
Their mind starts to become muddled together in their head, turning into a swirl of frustration that doesn’t let them put any of their thoughts to words.
When Wild says nothing and continues to stare blankly at the ripples in the river, Zel continues. “You don't have to be a woman.” She pauses for a moment, then seems to come to some conclusion. “Is this because of what I said this morning? Wild, just because I-”
Wild cuts her off with an outburst so loud they fear it might be heard from the stable. “I want to be!” They wince at their volume, but they can’t stop the words from spilling out of their mouth.
It’s reminiscent of when they’d first realized they hadn’t wanted to be a man. The realization bursts out of them in a torrent of hurt and grief that had been building up for a while, but they’d ignored.
They can’t ignore it now.
But despite the hurt that digs deep into their soul, it’s not the same as it was last time. The difference is that now, there’s someone here to hold their hand. Instead of Wild grasping at the dirt so tightly it ends up embedded under their fingernails for days, Zel grips their hands with both of hers, forcing them to turn towards her.
“Wild, if you want to be a woman, then you are one!” Zel looks a little startled, a little afraid, maybe, of how their seemingly calm mood had flipped on its head so quickly. Wild doesn’t tell her that their relaxed mood had been a facade for nearly the entire day.
“But I don’t feel like one. I feel so wrong, and I hate my body. I hate when people look at me. No one is ever going to look at me and see what I want them to.” Wild starts to trip over their words as their voice starts to waver and burning tears well up in their eyes. “Not what I’m supposed to- I wish I was- never-”
“Wild!” Zel’s voice is sharp. Sharp enough that it startles them out of the spiral they’d been in. They realize they’ve been gripping Zel’s hand so hard her fingers are starting to turn pale. They release their grip and try to jerk their hands away, but Zel doesn’t let them go.
“If you want to be a woman, then you are one!” Her voice is forceful now, more than they’d heard in a long time. She’s nearly snapping out her words. “It does not matter what you look like or what anyone else thinks of you. Them being wrong about what you are isn’t your problem, and if anyone’s being rude about it, I’ll-”
Wild will never find out what Zel would have done, because they cut her off. “No. No one’s being rude.” They haven’t even told anyone except Zel and Riju. How could anyone be rude about something they don’t know?
That doesn’t seem to placate Zel much. “Well, it seems like you're being pretty rude to yourself, Wild.” She huffs, but her voice starts to soften. She drops their hand, only to scooch closer and link their arms together instead. ”I don’t like that you think that way about yourself. Will you please tell me what’s got you thinking like this?”
Wild shakes their head, suddenly feeling too overwhelmed to speak. Zel waits for them, though, and eventually they can croak out. “I want to be a woman, Zel. When people look at me- I don’t- It feels like everyone is staring at me, and it feels like they’re seeing every part of myself that I hate. But I can’t tell them they're wrong. I feel like I should be a man. I mean all the heroes have been men before.”
They somewhat expect Zel to interrupt them then, but she stays silent, giving them time to speak their mind fully. They take a shuddering breath, and continue stuttering through their explanation. “I mean- I think something must be wrong with me. I’m not supposed to want to be a woman. What will they- what will people think?”
It’s a relief for Wild to finally say everything they’ve been thinking, even if their explanation is poor. They don’t necessarily feel better for it, but saying it out loud helps sort their thoughts a little.
What they had said cut to the heart of it: Wild wanted to be a woman, and they feared what other people would think about them for it. They feared what their friends would think about them. What their brothers would think of them.
Zel takes a long time before she says anything. If it had been anyone else, Wild would have panicked at the long silence, but they know she’s just thinking about what to say. She stays next to them, arm looped with theirs the whole time.
“I think,” she starts slowly, “that what you want is more important than what you’re supposed to want. And anyone who’s worth knowing won’t care what you do as long as you’re not hurting anyone.”
She’s talking about the other heroes, and Wild knows she’s right. The heroes are a very forgiving bunch, and they’re all used to the strange and unusual. The only time Wild’s ever seen any of them raise their hands, or swords, or even their words, against a fellow Hylian was when someone was being cruel to others.
They wouldn’t be cruel, Wild knows. Not on purpouse, at least.
There’s a long pause.
“It’s about what you want, Wild,“ Zel insists. “Everything else doesn’t matter.”
Wild shrugged, not willing to agree just yet.
“Just think about it. Please? And if you start to feel like this again, please tell me, tell someone, before you get to this point? Can you at least agree to that?”
Wild hesitates, but they know Zel isn’t asking for much. “Okay,” they admit. “Okay, I’ll try.”
Zel beams at them, and they can’t help but return the smile.
~~~
If any one had heard any of their conversion with Zel, they do an excellent job of not showing it when the group starts to gather again. No one seeks them out before they rejoin the group, at least.
Once everyone sgtarts to gorup up again, and Wild and Zel make their way over, several of the heroes do a double take when they see Wild. They’re sure they don’t look too good right now, and wouldn’t be surprised if their eyes were red from their unshed tears. The way Zel is still clinging to their arm probably tells them something too.
It’s Time who actually approaches them. He starts by offering a casual thanks for lunch, which Wild brushes off as they always do; cooking isn’t a chore for them. Then Time pauses and looks at Wild with that piercing gaze of his, a sliver of his white eye peeing out from under the drooping lid of his bad eye, and simply asks if Wild is okay.
They exchange a look with Zel, who just shrugs.
“I think I’ll be alright, Time.” They know better than to try to lie to the old man, but they also don’t want to talk about it with him.
Time dips his head in acknowledgement, and leaves them alone. The rest of the heroes also turn their attention away, apparently satisfied with Time being placated.
The stablemasters and their twins cheerfully bid the group farewell, and the eleven of them set off with little fanfare. The afternoon’s walk is just as quiet as the morning’s, and they reach their stopping place for the night in no time.
Trillby Plain is a good halfway point between Kakariko and the Domain, and the nearby river provides an excellent opportunity for Time, Twilight, and Wind to break out their fishing poles and catch a few trout for Wild to cook for dinner. They serve it with rice and fried greens, and the rest of the evening is spent lazily around the fire.
Wild doesn’t involve themself in the conversations around the fire, or in Hyrule and Legend’s firendly competition on who can shoot down the most keese. They see Warriors and Twilight watching him a few times, a mix of wariness and concern on their faces. They know it’s unusual for them to be so quiet, but they just don’t have the energy to act like their usual self.
The emotional toll of the day is weighing heavy, and they’re looking forward to collapsing into their sleeping bag. They’re thankful when Hyrule, Warriors, and Legend volunteer for watch duty, and almost immediately crawl into bed.
The talk around the fire quiets down then, the others being mindful of Wild trying to get some rest.
It’s not long before they slip into sleep. Their dreams are soft that night, filled with relief and joy and…
~~~
Zel laughs as she tugs on Wild's hand, pulling her forward. Wild nearly trips over the hem of her long skirt, but Zel catches her before she can stumble. They dissolve into shared giggles.
Turning to someone whose face Wild can't quite make out, Zel smiles with easy pride. “This is my wife, Wild.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you,” Wild says, dipping into a small curtsey. Her heart feels impossibly light.
~~~
Wild wakes to a welling sense of joy.
It’s a very unusual feeling for them. Usually, if they wake from a dream, it’s because their own terror has roughly jerked them out of a nightmare. The fact that happiness is what wakes them this time is strange.
It could be real. They could really have that, if they wanted to. Perhaps not being married to Zel; They’re sure she has her eyes set on someone else for that particular role, and Wild couldn’t be happier for her. But the rest of it…
Zel’s words echo in their brain. It’s about what you want, Wild.
Well. Wild did want that. Wild wants to be a woman, wants to be a she.
It was freeing to let herself think it without the thought dripping with shame and grief.
Wild lets herself imagine a world where she could wear whatever clothes she wanted without fear of shame, where someone might call her Ma’am without correcting themselves in a rush, where she might look at herself and be content with what she sees.
Sure, there was a possibility that she would face backlash, but if she could have that joy in real life, if she could experience just an ounce of the happiness the dream had given her…
Maybe that potential joy was worth any potential pain.
Basically how Grace started teaching in my fic When Life Gives You Lemon Seeds:
Eridian Scientists: Grace needs enrichment. He'll be trapped in a small room while we finish his main biodome…. What if he goes insane?
Grace, seeing a pebble one of the scientists brought with them to work, overwhelmed with cuteness aggression: Oh my god 😭😭😭
Eridian Scientists: ... We can work with this. Tomorrow is now bring your pebble to work day. We need to make pebble-sized xenonite balls, stat!!
i know rocky still technically got to play with the measuring tape in the movie but the way it happened in the book always makes me smile when I read it. :]
Remember when I said I was going to join in on the 'shitty eridians' trend?' Well I did that and I am now insane about my two OC's. My latest fic is about them, and they'll be introduced next chapter. Very excited!!
Summary: As Grace prepares for the start of a new semester, he learns his newest class will include a student who needs a little extra help to succeed.
Author's Notes: Please note author is NOT a teacher so take everything about teaching and accommodation plans with a large grain of salt. author is however low vision and this is based somewhat off my own experiences.
I will also have more notes on the worldbuilding for this fic in the notes on AO3 if anyone is interested!
TW: There is one line where a disabled character's body is called "wrong," and it is said they weren't "born right." This is not said to the character themself and is also not said with malice. That being said, Rocky does accidentally commit mild space ableism
(Read on AO3)
~~~
Who could have foreseen that even travelling light-years away from Earth wouldn’t save Grace from having to submit lesson plans?
Grace was sitting at the desk that was tucked away to the side of his classroom. He didn’t use it often, as he preferred being more engaged with his students than sitting at a desk allowed, especially given the physical barrier that already existed between him and them. But he did need someplace to do paperwork and to sit to rest his joints when the students were doing more independent work.
There was no one in the classroom now. Technically, Grace could have done this work at his house, but he firmly believed in keeping work and living spaces separated if he could help it.
And it became too easy, sometimes, to spend days without leaving his house. So taking a walk down the beach to his classroom in order to do his work was a good solution, and got him some fresh air.
Currently, Grace was halfway through carefully translating one of his lesson plans from English to Eridian, and doing it badly because Eridian notation still felt a little like trying to write music with a pen that weighed half a pound.
Of course, the reasons he needed to submit lesson plans were a little different on Erid than they had been on Earth. Instead of his plans being reviewed to make sure they covered specific topics mandated by the state, they were reviewed to make sure there wasn’t anything in them that would be overly confusing to an Eridian without extra explanation.
He was largely given free reign to teach whatever he wanted. Being a literal alien got him some perks. Namely, having people sign up for his classes, regardless of what he was teaching.
Currently, he was preparing to begin a new ‘semester,’ as it were. Eridian semesters were longer than what he was used to on Earth, being about six Earth-months long. He honestly didn’t mind, since it gave him more time with his students, to get to know them and to go further in depth on topics than he could with his classes on Earth.
He was only teaching four classes the next semester. Two would be Earth culture classes, which were run through the Eridian equivalent of a university, which was really more of a collection of masters of their trade who decided to register as teachers with the local Education Thrum, than a true analogy to human universities. More like a union of teachers than anything else.
From what Grace could gather, the specific university that he technically worked for was the equivalent of what Harvard or Yale are on Earth, which wasn’t exactly surprising if he thought about it. If an alien came to Earth and wanted to teach some classes, he doubted they’d be allowed to teach at a random community college. Every university on the planet would want to get them on its staff.
If Grace had told himself ten years ago that one day he’d be giving lectures at a very prestigious university, he would have thought he was an idiot. No college on Earth would ever hire him after his explosive exit from academia following the UNESCO conference incident.
(Well, if he somehow ended up going back to Earth, every college would probably be tripping over itself to get him to work for them. But that had more to do with the fact that he had discovered alien life and lived for years on a different planet than his actual teaching abilities. He should probably stop thinking about it.)
The classes he was teaching were the foundation for an entirely new area of study: xenoanthropology. Being the only human around for lightyears, Grace was obviously the best choice to handle the main lectures for the course.
The other two classes he would be teaching were for younger students, about the equivalent ages to the kids he taught back on Earth. To be honest, the classes for the younger kids were less like classes and more like an intensive sleep-away science camp.
Since he was stuck in one spot, those who wanted to take his classes had to come to him. This was less of a problem for the university classes he taught, since those students were typically of an age where they could live away from their parents, mostly unsupervised. The pebbles, however, were a different story. It wasn't like the whole family could uproot themselves and travel half way across the world just so one of their pebbles could take a class from a squishy alien.
The solution proposed by the University was a program where the kids could come and live near the biodome in a dormitory provided by the University. There were live-in supervisors to watch the pebbles sleep and make sure they behaved. Several Eridian teachers were also brought into the program to fill in the gaps in the pebbles’ schedules, as Grace would only have each class for a few hours each Earth day.
There were plenty of biology teachers on Erid, of course, so it wasn't strictly necessary for him to be teaching science to these kids. But he liked doing it, and of course, many Eridian parents were eager to sign their children up for whatever the alien decided he wanted to teach.
So eager, in fact, that there was an incredibly long waitlist for his classes. Students who wanted to get into any of his classes had to be screened thoroughly in order to whittle the list down to a manageable class size. Grace had insisted that no one should have to pay for his classes, since he didn’t want the only ones able to access his classes to be those with the money to pay for it. That meant there had to be a different way to pick who he would teach.
Per Grace’s own request, the children of the Eridians who’d worked on his biodome or on manufacturing food for him were given priority. He couldn't do much to truly thank those who’d worked tirelessly to save his life when he’d first arrived, but he could do this.
(It helped that he already knew most of their kids. After it was discovered that he found Eridian pebbles to be absolutely adorable, the scientists, doctors, and engineers involved in his care brought frequently their children to meet him. Grace had purposefully ignored the fact that it had sort of felt like the Eridians had been attempting to provide him with enrichment like he was a zoo animal in danger of going insane.)
But that still left plenty of spots on the class roster unfilled. Grace wasn’t directly involved in the admission process to fill those spots, but he knew the pebble had to have stellar grades in their previous classes to even be considered, and then each wrote an essay about why they wanted to be in the class. Another thing that seemed universal: admission essays and GPAs.
After they were selected, the pebbles had to go through a prep course to prepare them for being taught by a leaky space blob. The first time a pebble had shrieked in terror and cowered away from him had not been a fun experience, and Grace didn’t want a repeat if he could help it. So the prep course became a requirement to prepare the students for what being around an alien would be like. An alien who made strange noises, and was larger than most adult eridians, and who had to consume water regularly. (He was fine with eating alone, but it was impossible to give up drinking in public, if he wanted to stay hydrated.)
A spot in the prep course didn’t guarantee a spot in Grace’s class, and they were also evaluated by the prep course’s teachers for good behavior. Only the brightest students who were willing to put in the work and (mostly) well behaved made it to Grace’s class.
The current semester of classes was finishing up, and the next semester of classes was scheduled to start in about two Earth-weeks, and Grace had just been given the finalized list of students for all his classes. He was also given profiles for each student in his basic biology classes so he could familiarize himself with them before the semester started.
It wasn’t something Grace had requested when he’d started teaching; the Eridians who ran the program had done it for him. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was standard practice or if the Eridians thought he would have trouble telling his students apart without them, and that was why they were doing this. He wasn’t going to complain. It had proven useful in the years since then. Being a little familiar with his students before class began was a luxury he hadn’t gotten on Earth.
Each profile had basic background information on each student- name, age, where they were from, and information on their family, as well as their admission essay. Remarkably, each profile also had a picture of the student attached. Many of the pictures were blurry, but Grace couldn't really complain about that. It was amazing enough that a species with no eyes was able to create cameras in the first place. They certainly had no need of the technology for themselves. It was amazing they would even bother to, just for his benefit, so he wasn’t going to grumble about a few blurry pictures.
Grace was looking forward to reading through the profiles for his new classes later. For now, though, he was stuck translating his lesson plans into chicken-scratch Eridian. It was good practice, at the very least. He hadn’t realized how good he had it, being able to see pen ink and pencil lead. Eridians were stuck with something similar to the wax tablets ancient Romans had used, having to scratch their words into a soft surface with a stylus. It was a little difficult to get the hang of, and even after several years of practice, his Eridian writing was still messier than his English.
It was necessary but somewhat tedious work, so he welcomed the distraction of the sound of the classroom's airlock cycling. Glancing up from his work, he was surprised to see it was Rocky, though perhaps he shouldn’t have been. Very few Eridians were bold enough to let themselves into his biodome without being invited, but Rocky was one of those few. Given how many times he’d told Rocky and Adrian that they were always welcome in his home, he was happy that they had taken that to heart. He simply hadn’t expected a visit from Rocky until later in the day.
“Hey, Rock!” He called out with a smile, finishing his sentence and putting down his stylus, rubbing at his wrist slightly to ease the ache that had been building for the last hour. Rocky offered a wave of one of his claws, but didn’t respond right away. In fact, it wasn’t until Grace had finished putting away his writing and turned to fully pay attention to his friend that he spoke at all.
“Hello, Grace.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to drop by. Any reason for the visit?”
Rocky said nothing, uneasily shifting his weight side-to-side, which made Grace mentally sit up and pay attention. Rocky wasn’t one to hesitate or mince words. Since arriving on Erid, Grace had found that Eridians as a whole had little patience for such things. They were a practical species, and Rocky was definitely not an exception. So this hesitation was strange.
“Rocky?”
“Grace, question,” Rocky said. Grace had gotten used to Eridian tones and inflections during his time on Erid, so he was able to tell that Rocky was unsure.
“Yeah, bud?” He tried to keep his own voice calm, but his mind immediately started spinning, spitting out scenarios that would make the bold, brash Rocky act so unsure and hesitant. Was there something wrong with the biodome? Had the Eridian scientists realized they had been very slowly accidentally poisoning him with the synthesized food? Did Rocky have the Eridian equivalent of cancer?
“Grace finished reading the student profiles, question?“
Oh, okay. Well, he should probably talk with his therapist about his anxiety again, but at least no one was dying.
“I haven’t even started yet. Why? Is there a problem?”
Rocky shook his carapace in a motion similar to a human headshake, something he had picked up from Grace during the long years on their trip back to Erid. “No problem. Rocky has question about 🎶♫⋆♪˚♬. Is a pebble in the new class.”
“Okay, shoot,” Grace said, leaning over to pull the stack of files closer to himself, sorting through them to find to one marked 🎶♫⋆♪˚♬. He found it halfway through the stack and pulled it out.
“Rocky will not shoot Grace with human gun.”
Grace raised an eyebrow at him. “I know that you know that’s just a phrase, and what it really means. You’re stalling. What’s wrong?"
Rocky’s carapace lowered slightly in embarrassment from being caught, but continued. “Pebble is different.”
Grace tilted his head, not responding right away. He tried to parse what Rocky was telling him as he looked over the information included in the profile. (He could read the kid’s essay later.) This file was significantly longer than they usually were. Taking a glance at the picture taped to the front of the slab, Grace saw a small teardrop-shaped pebble with stubby legs. They were a creamy white color, with a single vein of bright yellow crawling across their carapace.
Name: 🎼🎶♫⋆♪˚♬ 。 ♬♫˚♫♫♪ 。 ♪˚🎶♬˚♫ 。 🎶♬˚ (English translation: Quiet Contemplation, First-hatched of first clutch of DeepCavern mate-cluster, of Greater Northern Thermal Vent Hive, secondary grade mathematics student)
Guardians: DeepCavern mate-cluster of the Greater Northern Thermal Vent Hive
Academic Record:
Primary schooling: Received good marks across the board in all subjects besides physical education, which was waived in agreement between their doctors and teachers.
Secondary schooling: Heavy focus on mathematics and physics, but also shows interest in genetics. Quiet Contemplation shows proficiency in math and physics, has good marks in all areas, and shows extreme interest in joining Savior Grace’s class. Due to previous difficulties in a normal classroom environment, Quiet Contemplation’s primary and secondary education has been by private teachers. Has little to no experience in public school settings.
Tertiary Schooling: N/A
Family History:
DeepCavern mate-cluster has four members, though only three live in the same household as Quiet Contemplation. All members are historian-recordkeepers by trade, though one member is currently not working in order to watch the cluster’s pebbles.
Quiet Contemplation is the First-hatched of a clutch of three. Clutchmates did not apply to the program and currently remain in the Northern Thermal Vent Hive. Last-hatched has started training to become a historian-recordkeeper. Middle-hatched is undecided, but shows interest in studying to become a priest of the Five Tones religion.
DeepCavern mate-cluster has another clutch of three pebbles, only eleven Earth-years old, not yet in school.
Medical History:
Quiet Contemplation hatched with♮🎵♪. Most severe symptoms experienced are extreme hearing difficulty, trouble with coordination, and occasional difficulty speaking, and stunted growth.
Compensation devices required for day-to-day activities and school work.
In the bottom tenth percentile in terms of weight. Roughhousing is extremely ill-advised due to size differences with age-peers.
Additional Notes:
Quiet Contemplation comes personally recommended by a member of their local Education Thrum.
NOTE: Guardians have requested a meeting with Savior Grace before the start of term.
Okay, he thinks he sees where Rocky is going with this. He doesn‘t know the exact translation of ♮🎵♪🎵, but he thinks he understands.
But, he still wanted to make sure. “Okay. Can you define ‘different’ in this context, please?”
Rocky shifted side to side again, still exuding a nervous energy. “Pebble not hatch right. Body is wrong. Normal eridian has small small small holes on carapace to catch sounds. Called Auricles.” Grace nodded to show he remembered. He was well acquainted with Eridian biology by now. He found the topic fascinating, and he’d had plenty of time to study Rocky’s biology on their trip to Erid.
Rocky continued. “Pebble has condition called♮🎵♪🎵. Makes carapace too smooth, can not sense vibrations very well. Causes♮♪♪♪.”
“So they’re disabled? The Eridian version of being blind? Or deaf? Both?”
Rock clicks at him curiously. “Rocky does not know this word.”
Grace goes over what he said. He's fairly sure Rocky knows what being deaf is, but since his species doesn't have eyes, blindness wouldn't have come up in conversation unless Grace mentioned it, and he couldn’t recall ever doing so. “Blind? If a human is blind, it means they can’t see. Their eyes don’t work properly, or they don’t have eyes at all. They might have been born that way or it might be caused by injury or illness.”
“Oh.” After taking a moment to consider this, Rocky said, “Yes, it is like both. Hard to sense things and navigate environment.”
Grace mentally files “♮♪♪♪” away as the Eridian word for deaf-blind, and takes a second to pull the small computer he kept in his classroom out of his desk to add the word to the translation software. With that in mind, he was able to translate Rocky’s next statement as-
“Quiet Contemplation is partially deaf-blind.”
Grave sits back, taking a moment to absorb this information. Rocky didn’t fill the silence. He waited patiently, which was new.
Grace had taught kids with all kinds of needs back on Earth, IEPs, 504 plans, the whole alphabet soup. This wasn’t the same: the child had a disability that Grace himself couldn’t even begin to comprehend, as he had no reference point. Still, he was sure he could make it work. He just wasn’t sure what he was missing; Rocky was acting too shifty for that to be all there was to it.
“Okay,” Grace said. “What’s with all the concern?”
There’s another pause before Rocky makes a soft, uncertain chord. “Uncertain if Grace would accept pebble into class.”
Grace frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Unknown human culture norms.”
Grace rubbed a hand over his face. That was understandable, but it still made a disappointment curl in his stomach. He knew some humans would have no trouble dismissing the pebble from their class, simply for convenience’s sake. He didn't know what all this entailed yet, but he could tell it wouldn’t be easy to adjust. Some people wouldn’t care to make the effort.
Rocky and the other Eridians weren't oblivious to the more horrid side of humanity. Grace had told them about different forms of discrimination, while making it clear that he disagreed with those viewpoints. He hadn’t really wanted to. Sullying the Eridians’ view of humanity was not high on his priority list. But he wasn't going to lie, either.
“Rocky, if the kid qualifies, there's absolutely no reason they shouldn’t be here.”
“Quiet Contemplation qualifies,” Rocky said immediately, with emphasis. “Smart smart smart pebble.”
Something in the repetition made Grace smile despite himself. He knew Rocky wouldn’t say it unless it was true, but his insistence was a little cute. “Well, that’s a glowing recommendation. Do you know them?”
“No, Rocky has never met. Education Thrum tell Rocky, Rocky tell Grace. Traditional school was too difficult. Instructions got lost, pebble got overwhelmed. Pebble’s guardians arrange…” He trailed off. “Need English word.”
“Sure, a word for what?” After so long living together, Grace was often surprised at how often they still stumbled across new words.
“Guardians get teachers to come to the cluster’s creche, teach pebble there.”
“Homeschooling,” Grace suggested. “Or being tutored.”
“Second one. Yes. We call 🎶🎵” Grace dutifully added the word to the dictionary.
“Quiet Contemplation was such an exceptional student in primary education that when pebble moved to secondary, one of the members of hive’s Education Thrum decided to tutor Quiet Contemplation personally. Thrum Member recommended pebble for Grace’s class. Pebble took the prep class with three others from hive. Handled that much better than the regular classes taken in the past. Probably combination of less age-peers in the class and better self-regulation due to being older than before. Quiet Contemplation was actually the only one selected for Grace’s class from hive.”
Grace let out a low, impressed whistle.
On Erid, education was generally split into three groups: primary, secondary, and tertiary. Primary education covered a little bit of everything, so everyone would have a basic knowledge of the important topics, but mostly it was focused on improving a pebble's memory recall, motor skills, and interpersonal skills.
As they moved into secondary education- which only happened once their teachers decided they were ready. There were no strict year groups here- classes started to become more about teaching pebbles how to problem solve and think critically. This was also about the time when pebbles would start to narrow down what they were interested in. Not to anything specific, but general subjects, such as focusing on STEM, or the arts, or the Eridian equivalent of humanities. The pebbles in Grace’s science classes were all secondary students with a STEM focus.
Tertiary education was reminiscent of studying abroad at college, doing an apprenticeship, and taking a gap year, all at once. It was when Eridians were expected to become more independent from their cluster, decide what career they wanted to go into, and start learning from and networking with the masters of their chosen trade. The Eridians in his Earth culture classes were mostly tertiary students.
To be good enough that your local Education Thrum took notice of you was exceptional. For a pebble to stand out from the crowd in a specific subject while still in primary education was impressive, especially given they’d been tutored at home. Very impressive.
Grace told Rocky as much. “Of course I’d be happy to have them in the classroom.”
“Good, good, good!” Rocky chattered, doing enthusiastic jazz hands. Grace couldn’t resist smiling broadly at the excited Eridian and returning his gesture.
“Okay. Start from the beginning,” he said. “Tell me everything I need to know.”
Summary: As Grace prepares for the start of a new semester, he learns his newest class will include a student who needs a little extra help to succeed.
Author's Notes: Please note author is NOT a teacher so take everything about teaching and accommodation plans with a large grain of salt. author is however low vision and this is based somewhat off my own experiences.
I will also have more notes on the worldbuilding for this fic in the notes on AO3 if anyone is interested!
TW: There is one line where a disabled character's body is called "wrong," and it is said they weren't "born right." This is not said to the character themself and is also not said with malice. That being said, Rocky does accidentally commit mild space ableism
(Read on AO3)
~~~
Who could have foreseen that even travelling light-years away from Earth wouldn’t save Grace from having to submit lesson plans?
Grace was sitting at the desk that was tucked away to the side of his classroom. He didn’t use it often, as he preferred being more engaged with his students than sitting at a desk allowed, especially given the physical barrier that already existed between him and them. But he did need someplace to do paperwork and to sit to rest his joints when the students were doing more independent work.
There was no one in the classroom now. Technically, Grace could have done this work at his house, but he firmly believed in keeping work and living spaces separated if he could help it.
And it became too easy, sometimes, to spend days without leaving his house. So taking a walk down the beach to his classroom in order to do his work was a good solution, and got him some fresh air.
Currently, Grace was halfway through carefully translating one of his lesson plans from English to Eridian, and doing it badly because Eridian notation still felt a little like trying to write music with a pen that weighed half a pound.
Of course, the reasons he needed to submit lesson plans were a little different on Erid than they had been on Earth. Instead of his plans being reviewed to make sure they covered specific topics mandated by the state, they were reviewed to make sure there wasn’t anything in them that would be overly confusing to an Eridian without extra explanation.
He was largely given free reign to teach whatever he wanted. Being a literal alien got him some perks. Namely, having people sign up for his classes, regardless of what he was teaching.
Currently, he was preparing to begin a new ‘semester,’ as it were. Eridian semesters were longer than what he was used to on Earth, being about six Earth-months long. He honestly didn’t mind, since it gave him more time with his students, to get to know them and to go further in depth on topics than he could with his classes on Earth.
He was only teaching four classes the next semester. Two would be Earth culture classes, which were run through the Eridian equivalent of a university, which was really more of a collection of masters of their trade who decided to register as teachers with the local Education Thrum, than a true analogy to human universities. More like a union of teachers than anything else.
From what Grace could gather, the specific university that he technically worked for was the equivalent of what Harvard or Yale are on Earth, which wasn’t exactly surprising if he thought about it. If an alien came to Earth and wanted to teach some classes, he doubted they’d be allowed to teach at a random community college. Every university on the planet would want to get them on its staff.
If Grace had told himself ten years ago that one day he’d be giving lectures at a very prestigious university, he would have thought he was an idiot. No college on Earth would ever hire him after his explosive exit from academia following the UNESCO conference incident.
(Well, if he somehow ended up going back to Earth, every college would probably be tripping over itself to get him to work for them. But that had more to do with the fact that he had discovered alien life and lived for years on a different planet than his actual teaching abilities. He should probably stop thinking about it.)
The classes he was teaching were the foundation for an entirely new area of study: xenoanthropology. Being the only human around for lightyears, Grace was obviously the best choice to handle the main lectures for the course.
The other two classes he would be teaching were for younger students, about the equivalent ages to the kids he taught back on Earth. To be honest, the classes for the younger kids were less like classes and more like an intensive sleep-away science camp.
Since he was stuck in one spot, those who wanted to take his classes had to come to him. This was less of a problem for the university classes he taught, since those students were typically of an age where they could live away from their parents, mostly unsupervised. The pebbles, however, were a different story. It wasn't like the whole family could uproot themselves and travel half way across the world just so one of their pebbles could take a class from a squishy alien.
The solution proposed by the University was a program where the kids could come and live near the biodome in a dormitory provided by the University. There were live-in supervisors to watch the pebbles sleep and make sure they behaved. Several Eridian teachers were also brought into the program to fill in the gaps in the pebbles’ schedules, as Grace would only have each class for a few hours each Earth day.
There were plenty of biology teachers on Erid, of course, so it wasn't strictly necessary for him to be teaching science to these kids. But he liked doing it, and of course, many Eridian parents were eager to sign their children up for whatever the alien decided he wanted to teach.
So eager, in fact, that there was an incredibly long waitlist for his classes. Students who wanted to get into any of his classes had to be screened thoroughly in order to whittle the list down to a manageable class size. Grace had insisted that no one should have to pay for his classes, since he didn’t want the only ones able to access his classes to be those with the money to pay for it. That meant there had to be a different way to pick who he would teach.
Per Grace’s own request, the children of the Eridians who’d worked on his biodome or on manufacturing food for him were given priority. He couldn't do much to truly thank those who’d worked tirelessly to save his life when he’d first arrived, but he could do this.
(It helped that he already knew most of their kids. After it was discovered that he found Eridian pebbles to be absolutely adorable, the scientists, doctors, and engineers involved in his care brought frequently their children to meet him. Grace had purposefully ignored the fact that it had sort of felt like the Eridians had been attempting to provide him with enrichment like he was a zoo animal in danger of going insane.)
But that still left plenty of spots on the class roster unfilled. Grace wasn’t directly involved in the admission process to fill those spots, but he knew the pebble had to have stellar grades in their previous classes to even be considered, and then each wrote an essay about why they wanted to be in the class. Another thing that seemed universal: admission essays and GPAs.
After they were selected, the pebbles had to go through a prep course to prepare them for being taught by a leaky space blob. The first time a pebble had shrieked in terror and cowered away from him had not been a fun experience, and Grace didn’t want a repeat if he could help it. So the prep course became a requirement to prepare the students for what being around an alien would be like. An alien who made strange noises, and was larger than most adult eridians, and who had to consume water regularly. (He was fine with eating alone, but it was impossible to give up drinking in public, if he wanted to stay hydrated.)
A spot in the prep course didn’t guarantee a spot in Grace’s class, and they were also evaluated by the prep course’s teachers for good behavior. Only the brightest students who were willing to put in the work and (mostly) well behaved made it to Grace’s class.
The current semester of classes was finishing up, and the next semester of classes was scheduled to start in about two Earth-weeks, and Grace had just been given the finalized list of students for all his classes. He was also given profiles for each student in his basic biology classes so he could familiarize himself with them before the semester started.
It wasn’t something Grace had requested when he’d started teaching; the Eridians who ran the program had done it for him. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was standard practice or if the Eridians thought he would have trouble telling his students apart without them, and that was why they were doing this. He wasn’t going to complain. It had proven useful in the years since then. Being a little familiar with his students before class began was a luxury he hadn’t gotten on Earth.
Each profile had basic background information on each student- name, age, where they were from, and information on their family, as well as their admission essay. Remarkably, each profile also had a picture of the student attached. Many of the pictures were blurry, but Grace couldn't really complain about that. It was amazing enough that a species with no eyes was able to create cameras in the first place. They certainly had no need of the technology for themselves. It was amazing they would even bother to, just for his benefit, so he wasn’t going to grumble about a few blurry pictures.
Grace was looking forward to reading through the profiles for his new classes later. For now, though, he was stuck translating his lesson plans into chicken-scratch Eridian. It was good practice, at the very least. He hadn’t realized how good he had it, being able to see pen ink and pencil lead. Eridians were stuck with something similar to the wax tablets ancient Romans had used, having to scratch their words into a soft surface with a stylus. It was a little difficult to get the hang of, and even after several years of practice, his Eridian writing was still messier than his English.
It was necessary but somewhat tedious work, so he welcomed the distraction of the sound of the classroom's airlock cycling. Glancing up from his work, he was surprised to see it was Rocky, though perhaps he shouldn’t have been. Very few Eridians were bold enough to let themselves into his biodome without being invited, but Rocky was one of those few. Given how many times he’d told Rocky and Adrian that they were always welcome in his home, he was happy that they had taken that to heart. He simply hadn’t expected a visit from Rocky until later in the day.
“Hey, Rock!” He called out with a smile, finishing his sentence and putting down his stylus, rubbing at his wrist slightly to ease the ache that had been building for the last hour. Rocky offered a wave of one of his claws, but didn’t respond right away. In fact, it wasn’t until Grace had finished putting away his writing and turned to fully pay attention to his friend that he spoke at all.
“Hello, Grace.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to drop by. Any reason for the visit?”
Rocky said nothing, uneasily shifting his weight side-to-side, which made Grace mentally sit up and pay attention. Rocky wasn’t one to hesitate or mince words. Since arriving on Erid, Grace had found that Eridians as a whole had little patience for such things. They were a practical species, and Rocky was definitely not an exception. So this hesitation was strange.
“Rocky?”
“Grace, question,” Rocky said. Grace had gotten used to Eridian tones and inflections during his time on Erid, so he was able to tell that Rocky was unsure.
“Yeah, bud?” He tried to keep his own voice calm, but his mind immediately started spinning, spitting out scenarios that would make the bold, brash Rocky act so unsure and hesitant. Was there something wrong with the biodome? Had the Eridian scientists realized they had been very slowly accidentally poisoning him with the synthesized food? Did Rocky have the Eridian equivalent of cancer?
“Grace finished reading the student profiles, question?“
Oh, okay. Well, he should probably talk with his therapist about his anxiety again, but at least no one was dying.
“I haven’t even started yet. Why? Is there a problem?”
Rocky shook his carapace in a motion similar to a human headshake, something he had picked up from Grace during the long years on their trip back to Erid. “No problem. Rocky has question about 🎶♫⋆♪˚♬. Is a pebble in the new class.”
“Okay, shoot,” Grace said, leaning over to pull the stack of files closer to himself, sorting through them to find to one marked 🎶♫⋆♪˚♬. He found it halfway through the stack and pulled it out.
“Rocky will not shoot Grace with human gun.”
Grace raised an eyebrow at him. “I know that you know that’s just a phrase, and what it really means. You’re stalling. What’s wrong?"
Rocky’s carapace lowered slightly in embarrassment from being caught, but continued. “Pebble is different.”
Grace tilted his head, not responding right away. He tried to parse what Rocky was telling him as he looked over the information included in the profile. (He could read the kid’s essay later.) This file was significantly longer than they usually were. Taking a glance at the picture taped to the front of the slab, Grace saw a small teardrop-shaped pebble with stubby legs. They were a creamy white color, with a single vein of bright yellow crawling across their carapace.
Name: 🎼🎶♫⋆♪˚♬ 。 ♬♫˚♫♫♪ 。 ♪˚🎶♬˚♫ 。 🎶♬˚ (English translation: Quiet Contemplation, First-hatched of first clutch of DeepCavern mate-cluster, of Greater Northern Thermal Vent Hive, secondary grade mathematics student)
Guardians: DeepCavern mate-cluster of the Greater Northern Thermal Vent Hive
Academic Record:
Primary schooling: Received good marks across the board in all subjects besides physical education, which was waived in agreement between their doctors and teachers.
Secondary schooling: Heavy focus on mathematics and physics, but also shows interest in genetics. Quiet Contemplation shows proficiency in math and physics, has good marks in all areas, and shows extreme interest in joining Savior Grace’s class. Due to previous difficulties in a normal classroom environment, Quiet Contemplation’s primary and secondary education has been by private teachers. Has little to no experience in public school settings.
Tertiary Schooling: N/A
Family History:
DeepCavern mate-cluster has four members, though only three live in the same household as Quiet Contemplation. All members are historian-recordkeepers by trade, though one member is currently not working in order to watch the cluster’s pebbles.
Quiet Contemplation is the First-hatched of a clutch of three. Clutchmates did not apply to the program and currently remain in the Northern Thermal Vent Hive. Last-hatched has started training to become a historian-recordkeeper. Middle-hatched is undecided, but shows interest in studying to become a priest of the Five Tones religion.
DeepCavern mate-cluster has another clutch of three pebbles, only eleven Earth-years old, not yet in school.
Medical History:
Quiet Contemplation hatched with♮🎵♪. Most severe symptoms experienced are extreme hearing difficulty, trouble with coordination, and occasional difficulty speaking, and stunted growth.
Compensation devices required for day-to-day activities and school work.
In the bottom tenth percentile in terms of weight. Roughhousing is extremely ill-advised due to size differences with age-peers.
Additional Notes:
Quiet Contemplation comes personally recommended by a member of their local Education Thrum.
NOTE: Guardians have requested a meeting with Savior Grace before the start of term.
Okay, he thinks he sees where Rocky is going with this. He doesn‘t know the exact translation of ♮🎵♪🎵, but he thinks he understands.
But, he still wanted to make sure. “Okay. Can you define ‘different’ in this context, please?”
Rocky shifted side to side again, still exuding a nervous energy. “Pebble not hatch right. Body is wrong. Normal eridian has small small small holes on carapace to catch sounds. Called Auricles.” Grace nodded to show he remembered. He was well acquainted with Eridian biology by now. He found the topic fascinating, and he’d had plenty of time to study Rocky’s biology on their trip to Erid.
Rocky continued. “Pebble has condition called♮🎵♪🎵. Makes carapace too smooth, can not sense vibrations very well. Causes♮♪♪♪.”
“So they’re disabled? The Eridian version of being blind? Or deaf? Both?”
Rock clicks at him curiously. “Rocky does not know this word.”
Grace goes over what he said. He's fairly sure Rocky knows what being deaf is, but since his species doesn't have eyes, blindness wouldn't have come up in conversation unless Grace mentioned it, and he couldn’t recall ever doing so. “Blind? If a human is blind, it means they can’t see. Their eyes don’t work properly, or they don’t have eyes at all. They might have been born that way or it might be caused by injury or illness.”
“Oh.” After taking a moment to consider this, Rocky said, “Yes, it is like both. Hard to sense things and navigate environment.”
Grace mentally files “♮♪♪♪” away as the Eridian word for deaf-blind, and takes a second to pull the small computer he kept in his classroom out of his desk to add the word to the translation software. With that in mind, he was able to translate Rocky’s next statement as-
“Quiet Contemplation is partially deaf-blind.”
Grave sits back, taking a moment to absorb this information. Rocky didn’t fill the silence. He waited patiently, which was new.
Grace had taught kids with all kinds of needs back on Earth, IEPs, 504 plans, the whole alphabet soup. This wasn’t the same: the child had a disability that Grace himself couldn’t even begin to comprehend, as he had no reference point. Still, he was sure he could make it work. He just wasn’t sure what he was missing; Rocky was acting too shifty for that to be all there was to it.
“Okay,” Grace said. “What’s with all the concern?”
There’s another pause before Rocky makes a soft, uncertain chord. “Uncertain if Grace would accept pebble into class.”
Grace frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Unknown human culture norms.”
Grace rubbed a hand over his face. That was understandable, but it still made a disappointment curl in his stomach. He knew some humans would have no trouble dismissing the pebble from their class, simply for convenience’s sake. He didn't know what all this entailed yet, but he could tell it wouldn’t be easy to adjust. Some people wouldn’t care to make the effort.
Rocky and the other Eridians weren't oblivious to the more horrid side of humanity. Grace had told them about different forms of discrimination, while making it clear that he disagreed with those viewpoints. He hadn’t really wanted to. Sullying the Eridians’ view of humanity was not high on his priority list. But he wasn't going to lie, either.
“Rocky, if the kid qualifies, there's absolutely no reason they shouldn’t be here.”
“Quiet Contemplation qualifies,” Rocky said immediately, with emphasis. “Smart smart smart pebble.”
Something in the repetition made Grace smile despite himself. He knew Rocky wouldn’t say it unless it was true, but his insistence was a little cute. “Well, that’s a glowing recommendation. Do you know them?”
“No, Rocky has never met. Education Thrum tell Rocky, Rocky tell Grace. Traditional school was too difficult. Instructions got lost, pebble got overwhelmed. Pebble’s guardians arrange…” He trailed off. “Need English word.”
“Sure, a word for what?” After so long living together, Grace was often surprised at how often they still stumbled across new words.
“Guardians get teachers to come to the cluster’s creche, teach pebble there.”
“Homeschooling,” Grace suggested. “Or being tutored.”
“Second one. Yes. We call 🎶🎵” Grace dutifully added the word to the dictionary.
“Quiet Contemplation was such an exceptional student in primary education that when pebble moved to secondary, one of the members of hive’s Education Thrum decided to tutor Quiet Contemplation personally. Thrum Member recommended pebble for Grace’s class. Pebble took the prep class with three others from hive. Handled that much better than the regular classes taken in the past. Probably combination of less age-peers in the class and better self-regulation due to being older than before. Quiet Contemplation was actually the only one selected for Grace’s class from hive.”
Grace let out a low, impressed whistle.
On Erid, education was generally split into three groups: primary, secondary, and tertiary. Primary education covered a little bit of everything, so everyone would have a basic knowledge of the important topics, but mostly it was focused on improving a pebble's memory recall, motor skills, and interpersonal skills.
As they moved into secondary education- which only happened once their teachers decided they were ready. There were no strict year groups here- classes started to become more about teaching pebbles how to problem solve and think critically. This was also about the time when pebbles would start to narrow down what they were interested in. Not to anything specific, but general subjects, such as focusing on STEM, or the arts, or the Eridian equivalent of humanities. The pebbles in Grace’s science classes were all secondary students with a STEM focus.
Tertiary education was reminiscent of studying abroad at college, doing an apprenticeship, and taking a gap year, all at once. It was when Eridians were expected to become more independent from their cluster, decide what career they wanted to go into, and start learning from and networking with the masters of their chosen trade. The Eridians in his Earth culture classes were mostly tertiary students.
To be good enough that your local Education Thrum took notice of you was exceptional. For a pebble to stand out from the crowd in a specific subject while still in primary education was impressive, especially given they’d been tutored at home. Very impressive.
Grace told Rocky as much. “Of course I’d be happy to have them in the classroom.”
“Good, good, good!” Rocky chattered, doing enthusiastic jazz hands. Grace couldn’t resist smiling broadly at the excited Eridian and returning his gesture.
“Okay. Start from the beginning,” he said. “Tell me everything I need to know.”
Rockdrian, but Eridians never stop growing as they age and the reason Adrian is so huge compared to Rocky is because they're in a problematic age gap relationship. (They didn’t even meet until they were both well into adulthood but others still call Adrian a cradle snatcher lol)
Adrian being the Eridian equivalent of a silver fox (a silver mountain?)
pride Eridians day fourteen: Polyamory and Unlabelled
Definitions
Polyamory: a person who is able to feel attraction to more than one person at the same time; term for a consensual relationship of multiple people at once that defies monogamy → polygamy
Unlabeled: the decision to not use/refuse to identifying oneself with terms like ‘gay’ ‘lesbian’ or any other label as it doesn’t feel fitting for the own sexuality or gender identity