Before we begin our tales, we must ask a question.
What would you do if you woke up one morning and were informed that you were now part of a 'Critically Endangered' species?
(Please, feel free to comment and say.)
That is what the ConservationVerse stories are about.
The ragged remnants of humanity are no longer on Earth and unable to return. Our original natural environment is gone forever after a catastrophic event that left it a destroyed husk.
Our numbers toe the edge of extinction. Our culture is mostly lost, only what those that survive were able to grab during their escape or what was stolen by aliens remain, as records of our past.
We now enter a universe that is physically stronger and technologically more advanced then ourselves. They do not understand us or our needs, it will take decades for them to relearn what our own professionals had already discovered. Not only that, but we are scattered across the galaxy after any large groups of humans were subjected to direct attacks during our flight from Earth.
Our safety is only found in our isolation from one another and absolute secrecy when in groups.
What would humans do if we were subjected to significant conservation efforts and protections?
Unhealthy food? Alcohol? Potentially dangerous sports? What if these were denied to us 'for our own good'?
What are the ramifications? What would our mental health look like? Would they understand that they are smothering us?
Now what about the overt dangers?
Rare is valuable and the stars are not some utopia. Many of our already depleted numbers have been stolen and secreted into all corners of the dark.
From the darkest moments in our lives, these stories will follow the various characters in snapshots of their lives as they navigate this strange new universe.
=== * ===
Welcome dear reader,
Most of the stories you will find on this page come from writing prompts from r/HumansAreSpaceOrcs. A subreddit that was designed to create writing prompts with the concept that we, as humans, are tough like an orc when compared to aliens.
I've read hundreds of those stories and I became bored with the concept that we are always 'bad ass' and can simply snap any alien we came in contact with across our knees.
So what if I started putting a wholesome spin on these prompts? But as more prompts were responded to, a dark universe began to take form in the background of my stories by accident. This began our little project.
A prompt will be written, I will be summoned and I would provide a story that either is directly inspired by the prompt or about the prompt itself inside the universe.
Most are unique one-shots, but there are a handful of stories that are actual stories written into a long format, whereas others are merely the same characters from previous prompts being used in another writing prompt.
At time of writing this, there's 3 full stories and 317 unique prompt responses made in the last year which I will slowly be posting into this page.
You can find all of them on the master drive at:
Of course the subreddit can be found here:
r/WolvensStories: Welcome to the repository of CuddleVerse stories. The intention, is to one day create a published story under 'Conservatio
Finally, after a poll, as per popular request, I also have a KoFi now:
https://ko-fi.com/wolven
If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to reach out.
I'm sorry this was missed and now its out of order...
Something was wrong.
Fince was infected with something. Some unknown parasite or bacteria that chewed and clawed at her insides. It made her itchy in her own fur. Her heart raced and her palms sweated. The poor young taurian could barely hold a thought for more than a few minutes at a time; if at all. She would surely die soon.
Thankfully, whatever this malady was, had a respite. Something she could do to soothe the symptoms for a time before they began again.
Laying on her bed, hooves crossed, arms behind her head as she stared up at the brown puddle stain of mildew drying above her bed. Fince whispered.
"Beau."
It was like a cool drink on a scorching day, or a stream of refreshing water being poured over Fince's body, cooling and soothing her. His face, partially covered, an expression of mischief, flashed in her mind.
She couldn't help the smile that turned into a grin, returning the grin of the human as he revealed himself to her.
"Beau." She murmured again, although this time it was lower in tone, warmer, huskier. It was how she would say it to him. A heat grew along the inside of her ears again.
"By my mother's horns; I get it!" Declared Jantx, Fince's roommate. "I think I'd actually prefer it if you went back to talking about the differences between one high-speed tram and the other." She grumbled, using a pestle and mortar to grind up a nutrient cube, preparing for consumption. Janxt considered that to be fair, Fince's enjoyment of the various models of high-speed trams may have been a niche interest, but out of the various distractions the city offered, Fince was one of the most boring and therefore safe roommates a lass could ask for.
Fince sighed from her and removed her hands from the back of her head, using them to rub her face vigorously before pulling her long ears down until it hurt in an attempt to get her to focus and stop daydreaming about him! Jinxt smirked as she ensured as much of the cube was broken down as she could, using her elbow to put force into the grinding action.
"Like, you have been mumbling the same word, over and over." Jantx pulled a face before turning from the kitchenette to point a soiled mortar at Fince and demanded. "And what kind of name is 'Beau' anyway?"
"A beautiful one..." Fince murmured without thinking, loving the sound. How it rolled off her lips. This got her thinking about how his lips were so delicate and close to him. If she wanted to kiss him, she'd need to lean in close, crowd him, protect him...
"'Beautiful'? What are you; gay?" Jantx demanded, sneering playfully as she lifted her bowl, placing it under the food processor built into the wall of the hab and stabbed a finger into one of the options. The machine oozed out a pink, watery sludge onto the crumbled nutrient cube.
"Thank you." The machine said quietly before shouting the cost "FIVE, credits have been deducted from the dwelling's rental account." Jintx retrieved her bowl and sipped at the shaped spout on the edge of the bowl before turning to Fince and leaning against the kitchen counter.
"You realise it's my turn to make lunch today, right? I'm not cooking like this tomorrow just because you went for lunch." Jantx pointed out, slurping from the bowl loudly before lowering the bowl, frowning and then shouting to snap Fince out of her damn daydream.
"Sorry! Sorry... I don't know what's come over me. I've never felt like this before." Fince complained, sitting up and hunching over the edge of her bed.
To her, her mind was a wash with 'him', she had a thousand questions. She wanted to ask about his family, she wanted to hold him and apologise to him for the loss of his parents. Fince was one of the few that had family, her mom and dad, younger sisters and of course; elder brother. She wanted to suggest they go see them? They weren't far...
"Uuurgh! I can't stop. I'm obsessed. What do I do?!" Fince begged Jantx, turning to her roommate with pleading eyes. She wasn't always the stereotypical taurian, but this was the first time her brain had gone to mush over a man!
Jantx merely remained leaning against the kitchen counter and swirled the contents of her bowl lazily. She brought it up to her lips, slurped loudly, brought the bowl back down and belched before she spoke with confidence.
"Get ready for your heart to be broken." The rougher taurian stated plainly.
Fince blinked, shocked. She was hoping for wisdom, but Jantx's words felt like a sticky bandage being torn off, taking fur and scabs with it.
"W-what?" She asked, still hunched on the edge of her bed.
"This isn't going to end well, Fince. Everything I know about this guy tells me he's highborn. Fince, you're not." She pointed out with a shrug. It was true that Fince was... just Fince. The only thing in her favour was that she had a male sibling. A boon to be sure, but her family had bankrupted themselves sending him for etiquette training. His parents had to take on harder roles just to ensure his schooling fees remained paid.
Even a slice of Fince's paycheque went in that direction.
It hurt. The realisation that Jantx was speaking the truth, that whilst Fince's emotions were honest and true, most taurians learned at a young age the dangers of dreaming too big.
'Do your job.' 'Save up.' 'Pay into a megacorp retirement fund.'
These were the dreams of taurians like Fince. They were the workers of the world. If someone walked to the very core of any taurian planet, they would find taurians like Fince turning the world. The highborns, the males, these were who they were all working for.
Still, Fince didn't want to admit that perhaps Beau was beyond her dreams.
"Humans don't have highborns..." Fince tried to excuse, but Jantx wasn't having any of it.
"You said he was learning etiquette. That means he's on his way to being highborn. I don't know any of the names of the 'masters', but if he was a private tutor, then it's all but certain." The worker continued, silencing Fince as she descended into a depressive malaise.
"Doesn't matter if he's a human, all males are the same. You're a distraction from the work that he's putting in and once he's done?" Jantx paused, drawing Fince to meet her eyes. "He'll drop you." Fince's head dropped into her hands as Jantx mumbled a sympathetic apology, quickly rinsing the empty bowl and turning it upside down to dry.
Silence reigned in the small apartment for a time before Jantx broke it once more.
"What's on the agenda for you today? Apparently, they're letting people into the LM dome for free to headbutt the celebrations off tonight."
"I'm going for lunch."
Jantx looked around and frowned, Fince merely shrugged.
"He and his tutor suggested it." Fince admitted in a quiet voice, tapping her claws together.
Jantx merely grumbled and put a hand to her face, mumbling how it was Fince's funeral.
== 0 ==
Fince walked through the streets in her fine shirt once more. She had carefully cleaned it herself by hand, rather than rely on the automated washers. It was her most prized possession and by far and away the most expensive, to the point that she would likely need to eat unflavoured nutrient cubes for a while, just to regain her savings.
Still, as she rounded the final corner and approached the square once more, Fince felt it was all still worth it.
Maybe... maybe this would end in disaster. Maybe she was being used by Beau as a distraction. But as she entered the square and looked around, she felt her resolve firm and solidify.
If she made him happy, even for a little while, then it was worth it. His gaze had brought such colour and delight into Fince's drab little world that even if today was the end of it all, she would treasure these moments until her eyes faded and her horns failed her.
Beau was worth it to her.
"Hey!" Came a familiar voice, drawing the taurian's attention to her left. She couldn't help but grin as only one male on this planet would come to this square and yell.
Grinning from ear to ear, Fince turned as the shrouded form of Beau approached in a yellow sun dress, although this time his hands were ungloved, no longer hiding his lack of fur.
"I'm so glad you came! Master Lesinro suggested that you might not have remembered." Beau's voice explained, briefly reaching up, under the veil and adjusting something unseen. Fince gave a lower than needed bow, closing her eyes and setting her tone to be as serious as she dared.
"I would never forget you, Beau." Swore Fince, meaning every syllable. Beau stepped to the side, and placed his arm up through Fince's elbow, holding onto the taurian's forearm, just beyond the crease. Fince straightened and held her chin high as she took slow, confident steps towards where the elder taurian was currently sat, his legs swept to the side on a patterned blanket, which was covering a portion of the sod, set into the marble tiles of the square.
With Beau on her arm, Fince felt a confidence unlike anything she had experienced before. It was as if Beau revitalised her by his mere presence and touch.
Once they reached the edge of the blanket, Fince bowed to as close as she could to forty-five degrees towards the resting master. He inclined his head but rose from the ground all without a single ounce of detectable effort. He swept a single hand across the front of the dress, removing unseen dirt before addressing Fince directly.
"I have need to ensure our afternoon classes are prepared. Do I have your word that you will care for Beau's honour?" Demanded the elder.
Fince placed a fist against the breastbone in the centre of her chest and spoke the words that held weight to any taurian.
"I swear it." She declared, again feeling something natural and powerful click into place for her. Being Beau's protector was 'right', it fit her in a manner that very little else did.
Master Lesinro squinted at Fince for a moment, briefly looking down at the shirt she wore before looking back up into her eyes. Did he know it was the same shirt? Fince had ensured it was clean; it didn't smell of the day before she was sure of it! Thankfully, whatever assessment that had taken place, the taurian had apparently passed as the elder nodded.
"Very well. I happen to believe you. I shall return." Declared the male before sweeping past without another, gliding along the marble as if floating on air and leaving the pair alone with one another. Fince was brought back to reality by a small squeeze against her forearm and Beau leaning in, taking furtive glances back at the shrinking master.
"Come on, I don't know how long he'll be gone, but let's not waste this." Beau stage whispered, pulling Fince onto the blanket, his strength not being enough to move Fince and yet defeated her with ease, nonetheless. The two of them sat down on the blanket and Beau pulled a large basket, or perhaps a 'hamper' from one side so it sat between them both. A few other items cluttered the material, a strange, long, folded device sat next to Beau's neatly folded legs, a copy of the elder taurian's posture.
"The master pointed out that if I wanted to, I could prepare our lunch for us, rather than us going out for a meal, so I've made a bunch!" Beau explained excitedly, obviously giddy, a far cry from the supposed reserved nature of most males. Jantx's words, that all males were the same, felt hollow now that she was once more in the presence of Beau.
...Her Beau.
Fince blinked with realisation, suddenly glad that they didn't seem to be going out for lunch. Realistically, she wouldn't have been able to afford it if Beau had chosen that, as she had spent all her money on the shirt! But as the taurian turned this near miss over in her head, she noted how Beau had already pulled out several covered plates of... sandwiches?!
"That's... bread?" Asked Fince, looking at the tiny triangles of the soft foodstuffs, between each of the slivers were thick slabs of steaks, cut finely and coated in various coloured sauces.
"I double checked, apparently it's not a common choice due to scarcity, but you can eat it." Beau explained, hesitating as he quickly moved to pull out another covered item, the lid see-through and revealed a bloody steak on its own. "If you don't want to, I also made this, although I'm sorry to say that it is cold. We can-"
Fince's heart rate jumped at Beau's almost panicked words, as they had lost their passion, as if he was scared that Fince would be disappointed in the bountiful selection that was before her. She gently reached out and with two fingers, touched the back of his hand, freezing him in place.
"Beau... this all looks incredible. I would want nothing more than to try all of it." Explained Fince, as she watched the man's shoulders relax at her reassurance. Finde gave him a warm smile, then peered down at the feast before her.
"This is... I don't know what to say..."
"It's just a few sandwiches. I made myself some vegetarian ones, but the rest are heavy on the meat. I got krad, I got squidgit. The cheeses are apparently rather fancy taurian made ones." Beau explained, gesturing at each plate whilst pulling a fragile looking triangle with plants and green things pressed between the light brown slices of bread.
"I-I don't know where to start." Admitted Fince, glancing from five different plates before looking up at Beau, his face still hidden by the light-yellow material.
"Usually at a corner I was always told." Came his voice from beyond, a grin upon his words that Fince's imagination filled in for her. Trying to hide her embarrassment, she tilted her head down to look at the tiny sandwiches.
"I've never had bread before." Murmured the taurian truthfully. Whilst taurians were carnivores, bread was not unknown to their species as a whole. Their bodies could handle it as an unhealthy treat, but bread was... beyond what Fince could afford...
She wondered at that moment if her brother had tried bread before?
"What? Really?" Asked Beau, still sitting not a single foot away from Fince.
"It's not something I can..." She paused, wondering if this truth was something that would make her undesirable to him? He needed to know. How else could he trust her if she was not honest and open with him?
"Well... not something I can afford. I'm not exactly... wealthy." She admitted, glancing up without lifting her chin. She concluded that if he dismissed her or ended the lunch early; she would not mourn or make a scene. She would be polite and stoic until the master's return.
In deafening silence, Beau's hands raised up and began to lift the hat from the human's head. Fince's eyes bulged, and her hand shot up, but hesitated from actively pushing the hat back down onto the male's head.
"W-what are you doing!?"
"It's warm..." Beau explained, before completing the removal. As the fabric was pulled away, the hat lovingly placed on the blanket alongside the various foodstuffs, Beau looked up and without lifting his chin, met Fince's eyes. Impossibly deep brown eyes, with stark white surrounding them gazed at Fince.
She could make out long brown hair that covered the human's head from the top, growing out into a length that would have been unmanageable on a taurian. Yet, on the human, the immaculately washed and conditioned curls looked perfect as they cascaded over the matching yellow silk sash that covered his forehead, his fringe spilling over the top.
He smelt of something floral, gentle, and sweet. It was neither overpowering or out of place coming from the male. It was as if he was a glade on some untouched paradise world and the mental image of him kneeling there, surrounded by flowers, waiting for her, filled her mind.
Fince's mouth moved as she tried to say something. But merely made an unseemly lowing, a breathy, embarrassing noise of a mind in full panic and shock.
His resulting laugh was like a series of small dainty bells; chimes that rang out and pulled the sides of Fince's mouth upwards. She tried to memorise every contour and line of his face, to imprint in on her mind forevermore.
The sun set in an instant when his eyes left her, as he leant, reached from the strange, folded device and thumbed a small button on its handle as he once again graced her with his unending brown eyes.
Fince flinched at both the noise and sudden deployment of some sort of cover. The material was the same as his dress, and blocked sight of all around Beau, except for in front of him, where she sat.
He was...
"Beautiful." She hadn't even realised she'd murmured the word aloud until his face turned away slightly as his pale cheeks coloured into a rosy colour. Was he...?
"Is, uh... Is bread expensive here?" Beau asked, clearing his throat and blinking rapidly as he restarted the conversation. There were a solid few moments where Fince had to remind herself that there was in fact a universe beyond Beau's face and did in fact have a sandwich in her hands. Trying to pretend she hadn't been completely overtaken by him, she chomped down on the sandwich in a rush, nearly taking off her fingertips.
She swallowed almost immediately, ignoring that she'd barely tasted it, nor chewed it properly in her blind panic to recover. Thankfully, she was able to speak without outright choking.
"It's more for the highborns." She explained, before swallowing again, feeling the small lump go down.
"The upper crust?" Beau grinned, although Fince missed the apparent joke and Beau shook his head. "Sorry, never mind."
Fince looked at the half eaten morsel in her hands, and this time took another bite, but more carefully, savouring the taste of a perfectly fried squidgit. It had been roughly three months since the last time Fince had tasted real meat and couldn't help but make another noise of appreciation. Beau merely smiled from the cover of his device as he watched with a slight, toothless smile on his features.
"Please ensure you have as much as you want. I made it all for you, so you eat until you're satisfied." He explained, picking up one of his odd, leafy, sandwiches, nibble on the corner first. Fince looked down to the little triangle in her hands and intentionally turned it, taking a measured bite of the same corner Beau would have done.
The pair ate in silence for a time, Beau playfully spinning the deployed cover until they were both full, or rather Fince was.
"Oh, I have something for you." Beau said, breaking the comfortable silence of the two. The human reached back into the large hamper and gingerly pulled a small, sealed, but opaque box. Fince's face frowned momentarily at Beau who stuck a tongue out in a shocking display that had Fince grinning once more.
Opening it, hiding its contents from the taurian, the human reached into the small box.
"Can you close your eyes please? And lean forwards a little bit?" the male asked gently. Fince complied, ensuring she didn't crush any of the extortionately expensive foodstuffs with her brutish hands. With her eyes closed, her ears and nose worked overtime and heard the sound of the box closing and being set aside. Then the sound of fabric moving.
The scent of the peaceful glade increased, and slim, clawless fingers worked at Fince's hair, just above her left ear. Something was pressed there, something small and delicate. To her, it felt as delicate as glass, but could feel that it moved.
A ghost of something touched Fince's lips, something so soft and light she debated whether she had felt anything at all. Then the scent of the glade lessened, and Beau murmured that it was okay to open her eyes again.
Nothing had changed, but Beau was lifting and placing the cover back over his shoulder as he watched her with a knowing smile. The taurian was helpless and couldn't stop herself from smiling back before her face dropped. Newly appeared, was a small flower, poking out from behind Beau's ear, held in place by the brown hair that fell there.
It was a 'Bowing Maiden' flower, a delicate thing, a deep yellow centre with thin, sparse petals that were pure white. They were significant in taurian culture and were often the flower one male gave a female when they wished to go beyond just courting and sought to join together as one.
"I'm glad you came for lunch." Beau admitted warmly as he tilted his head to merely look at her, as if it pleased him to do so. Fince oh so gently reached up and felt delicate, sparse petals held between her head and her ear.
Fince didn't hear Beau of course, it seemed all she heard was the pounding of her heart as her vision narrowed to just him and his beautiful, soft face.
Hello and welcome back ~ I just wanted to let you know that Veiled Heart jumps from chapter 2 to 4. I don't know if that means that 3 is missing or simply misnamed but I thought you'd like to know. It's good to see you posting stories again!
Fince didn't need to look round at Beau to know it was him.
The corners of her mouth lifted without the confirmation, and she snapped off a polite bow to him without hesitation as she turned her body to greet him in one smooth twirl. With an annoyed grunt, the multi-branching horned taurian followed suit, although her bow was more of required copying of Fince, rather than want to bow.
As Fince's brother had explained, if one taurian bowed, then the other women present either must follow suit, or risk insulting the new arrival, deeming them unworthy of a bow.
"My sir." Fince greeted, before raising herself back up and seeing the royal blue veil, covering the male's mouth and nose, so that it hid all but Beau's eyes.
The brown irises watched Fince, the wrinkles around them pleasing to her. What was surprising was the charcoal that surrounded the male's beautiful eyes, flecked with tiny dots of gold. Each one was placed deliberately by a careful, trained hand. Whilst perhaps over the top, it fit with the human's appearance. The lack of fur meant he had what seemed like a canvas to work with. Beau flicked a wrist and began to waft himself with his hand fan while meeting Fince's eyes.
The gaze was short lived however and the fluttering of the fan ceased as Beau changed his attention to the other taurian.
"A 'tux'?" Sniffed the fop from behind Fince, causing her to briefly break protocol and be brought back to reality, one where it wasn't just Fince and her Beau. The wrinkles around Beau's eyes deepened as Fince realised she had just rolled her eyes up and into her head at the fop's words. Fince recovered and turned her body to include the fop, stepping backwards half a step.
A drink appeared on a small tray to Fince's left, carried by Janxt. Her eyes were low, and she played her role with perfect ease. Fince plucked the drink and held it low, across her body, rather than sipping when the others had no drink. In the brief lapse in Fince's attention on Beau, the fan had changed position, now hanging low and upside down as Beau held a single finger to his chin as he seemingly waited a polite moment for the fop to speak again.
"Quite. A taurian twist on it too, normally it would be pure black." Pointed out the human, gesturing to Fince' s attire with a graceful gesture using the fan, now folded before it was brought up to the side of his concealed mouth as Beau spoke.
What Fince wore was unlike anything else on display around the dance hall. Her jacket fit her well. Neither tight, nor loose. It clothed her comfortably and hid her strength without drowning her. The material was a deep, royal blue, a perfect match to Beau's own colour scheme. It seemed too much like coincidence that Fince's brother would have picked the exact same shade as Fince, who did her best to smother the grin that pulled at her face.
Beneath the fine jacket was a simple white shirt, somewhat similar to the one she had worn to her earlier lunch dates that week only this was perfectly fitted and without the various ruffles and ribbing. Fince recalled the tailors had bemoaned adding no accents or piping to the hems, but Charna had outright forbidden them from deviating from his instructions. The only colour that broke up the white shirt was a length of royal blue ribbon, tied into an odd bow, that collared Fince's neck.
When Charna had revealed this as part of her outfit, the taurian had resisted the instructions for the very first time. She in no way believed that a collar around her neck would work in such a setting. Yet her brother had spoken softly, explaining that it was all part of the plan, a risk, but if the plan went well; all would turn out how Fince dared hope.
The trousers cut off at Fince's knees displaying her immaculately groomed fur and polished hooves. On review, next to the almost blindingly white and gold outfit of the fop, she did seem alarmingly muted. The fop agreed, even without Fince asking her opinion.
"How awful, at least she has chosen some colour." Gestured the taurian down at the tux before turning back to Beau. "Since you seem to know, why would I dress so bland?" Demanded the taurian, a snort all but on every word. Fince repressed the urge to shove the git.
"A 'tux' demands subtlety." Beau said simply, not a single note of irritation on his words, the fan was brought low again, catching Fince's eye. Beau seemed to toy with it, spreading the fan whilst it was lowered, blocking the male's body from the fop, who hadn't glanced down at it, not even once.
"Why? Everyone else is magnificent, why would I choose to blend into the background? I should be the most resplendent!" Declared the taurian, thrusting her chin skyward.
"Your horns are quite magnificent." Beau retorted rather abruptly. It was not his words that were curt, but the tone was so neutral and the subject so overt, Fince had to resist the urge to double take at the diminutive human. The fop was seemingly shocked at the sudden subject change as well. For the first time, she seemed genuinely shaken and off balance.
"Wh-... Yes. Yes, they are, thank you for noticing my sir." The taurian thanked, touching a hand to her gilded chest in a gracious gesture.
"Do you need to announce they are magnificent, or do you rely on the common sense of those with sight?" Asked the male, his eyes locked on the fop's defiantly, all the wrinkles long gone, although his tone hadn't changed at all. Fince frowned for a moment, lamenting the tiny line's absence before noticing the change properly.
"Well... I believe they speak for themselves?" The fop replied, still confused.
"Quite. A 'tux' is a quiet declaration. It is not a bellow for respect, but a whisper, an implication. After all, who would follow a leader that must screech they are such?" Mused the human, tilting his head to the side as he posed the question innocently, whilst slowly circling the now closed fan as he considered the thought. His words were true, but the taurian's outfit now seemed... too much. Standing beside both Fince and Beau, the bright whites and lines upon lines of embroidered gold thread just seemed... tacky?
The fob snorted, dismissing the notion.
"You are an interesting one. I am Relmarson, of the house Marson and you have caught my interest." Declared the taurian with a flourish and fingers pressing into her own chest with obvious pride. What was odd to Fince was the sudden rolling R's that the taurian adopted in that sentence, and that sentence alone, despite talking normally until that moment. Fince took a sip from her drink to prevent her from laughing at the sudden ridiculous pomp. Was she meant to stutter over her own name too?
"I am glad you think so Ma'am." Curtsied the human, once more fanning the royal blue fan out, holding it low and upside down.
"I will see you at the dance." Declared Relmarson before turning and striding away, shoulders back and arms exaggerated as if she were carrying two rolls of carpet beneath each arm.
"God, I hope not." Murmured Beau in a low, quiet voice, hidden behind his fan once more when Fince's head looked around in surprise at his words.
"Not your type, my lord?" Fince asked, noting how the fan, which had barely been held still over the last few minutes, was now resting against the front of Beau's vail, right where his lips would be.
"I have my eyes on another." Beau remarked, staring at Fince in a way that caused the pinkish flesh on the inside of her ears turn a deep red. Dipping her head, she offered her elbow, as she had to the master not ten minutes before. Beau gracefully draped himself over Fince's arm, slipping one arm over her forearm, whilst his other arm reached up to touch the outside forearm. Fince almost flinched when Janxt gently pulled the drink from Fince's free hand and stepped back, face neutral and unfussed, but that didn't stop the taurian from briefly nodding to her once, who winked in return.
Fince and Beau began to saunter around the edge of the ballroom, looking into the crowd and seeing the many different faces, and outfits that adorned the partygoers.
"They're all so... bright." Beau pointed out, to which Fince merely smiled softly as she looked out over them. It was indeed an extravagant affair. By far and away, the deep blue 'tux' she wore was the most subdued outfit there.
"In taurian culture it's... sorry, I suppose you've already learnt all this already." Fince began, then stopped herself, ducking her head in apology for assuming Beau would need anything explained at this point. In return, the young man merely squeezed the woman's arm as he spoke.
"Perhaps, but I like it when you explain things. Not to mention, I know academic things; the elders often leave the... slang parts out." Pointed out the young human, who when Fince looked back down to, his eyes were squinting back up at him again, causing the taurian's heart to flutter once more. Fince grinned impishly back before blinking, remembering herself and clearing her throat.
"Ah, well, in, er... in taurian culture, it is the grandest that is considered the most desirable. Whilst we have evolved past clashing horns, in the same way we no longer leave our pairing to free form dancing, we still like to show how unique and impressive we are." Fince gestured with a hand at the milling crowd beyond the pillars they walked behind.
"As you can see, the brighter you are, the more attention you receive."
A boisterous laugh rippled through the hall, drawing attention, and turning heads. Relmarson stood in the centre of a group, laughing uproariously as a gaggle of both men and women orbited around her.
"I couldn't think of anything worse." Beau murmured, quietly enough that there was no chance of anyone overhearing the honest opinion.
"She could make you very comfortable. I've even heard of the Marson family. They own a bunch of different companies. Everyone knows the brands, no one knows that the brands are all owned by the same people." Fince chuckled, glancing at the gilded buttons on the woman's front. "I'd bet my horns that's real gold she's wearing. Nothing gilded."
"Perhaps." Toned Beau, a sad lilt to his voice, drawing Fince's attention once more. But as he breathed in to speak, a call rang out.
"Suitors! Please move to the side." A male voice from the entrance stairs, the volume surprising for such a small creature. Fince reluctantly disconnected from Beau's arm and gave him a bow, wishing to see him soon.
There was a rabble for a few minutes as the women moved to the left side of the room to the crier and the men moved to the right, each lining up to face one another. It wasn't the act of separating that took the longest, but there seemed to be an undignified scuffle amongst the men as to who would be standing directly across from Relmarson.
When Fince glanced her way, she could see Relmarson greatly enjoying the attention, winking and mouthing words across the room, before leaning into the others that stood around her, murmuring something unheard that got a ripple of laughter from the crowd.
Fince frowned and cast her own eyes across the hall. Relmarson was by far and away the most in demand taurian, with the most men vying for the opportunity to dance with her in the upcoming dance, but there were plenty of other males who seemingly had eyes for other suitors on her side. Panic set in when Fince couldn't spot Beau at first, flicking from one side of the room to the other, until her eyes caught sight of a veil directly across from her. Her head snapped straight, and saw how Beau was standing, directly ahead of her, fan gently tapping the side of his smirk.
From this distance, the veil was partially see-through, and Fince could see he had darkened his lips with someth- A new male appeared, shouldering his way to the front and past Beau, rudely shoving the human backwards with an elbow.
Fince bristled in an instant and had every intention of marching across the room to ensure Beau kept his spot. A hand grabbed the end of her lashing tail however, causing Fince to glare back at- Janxt let go of her tail, giving Fince a slow shake of her head, whilst the various suitors never saw what Janxt had done, all the other seconds were currently looking at their silent exchange. The idea of a second doing something so bold and uncouth was unheard of and yet...
Fince sighed and nodded, turning back to the males searching for-... Beau was back in the front row, slowly fanning himself with a stern look that softened when Fince met his eyes, the fan fluttering ever faster. The other male was... marching away? He was holding his own tail, a severe kink visibly bending it at a painful looking angle as the male retreated out of sight.
Fince blinked from the rude and retreating male back to Beau, but the music began in a blare of horns and stringed instruments at that exact moment, signalling for the men and women to begin to march towards one another!
So distracted was Fince she was a good step behind the rest, having to almost skip to get into lock step with the others. It was barely five paces before Fince stopped and bowed with the line of other women, the training that Charna had drilled into Fince taking over.
She felt a moment of fear… Irrational, perhaps, but the fear was still real as she waited to see her partner’s hem before she could rise. It felt like it took an age, but the royal blue hem of a dress appeared into Fince's vision, so she straightened and looked to reveal Beau standing in front of her.
Smiling, in sync with the rest of the dance hall, each of them extended a hand, and without touching, brought their palms together. They circled once, then switched arms, circling back, both staring into each other's eyes. The dance continued, the two dancing perfectly with one another until the steps demanded the partners move along during one of the swirls. The new male was dressed in pinks and kept having to sweep dangling jewellery out of his face. He didn't seem too interested in Fince as he began to rush the steps until there was an awkward moment where he reached the end of their dance together too early and had to stand for a few moments until the rest of the dancers caught up.
On and on it went until each of the gaudily dressed males had danced with the other women, until once more Beau appeared and concluded the dance with Fince.
The music didn't matter. The other dancers didn't matter. This evening, Fince had physically touched and danced with more men than she had ever had the chance to even speak to before, yet they just... didn't matter to her.
Only Beau mattered. The lights, the colours, it all felt dull until he returned.
As the music began to conclude, Fince and Beau held out the palms once more, but this time their palms touched, and their fingers fell through the empty spaces between one another's fingers. His hand was soft, smaller than hers, yet the way her fingers fell into place felt right. Like the pins of a lock falling into the teeth of a key. She wanted to pull him close, to forgo the rituals as they merely delayed her right to be with him.
They stood there for a time, breathing heavy, soft smiles playing across their features. It may have been mere moments or years, it didn't matter. They fit. They were right for each other.
At the ringing of a small bell, they reluctantly let go and Fince bowed deeply, bending further than she meant to whilst Beau matched, curtseying low, his chin dropping gracefully before they both rose once more.
The women stayed where they were, some anxious, those who had not made the same connection Fince and Beau had, and others not. The men walked back to their side, where they retrieved a crown of flowers, each hand made by themselves.
Most were a solid colour, but not Beaus. Whites, Yellows, Greens, all pastel in colour, a blaze of beauty, held delicately in his hands.
He flew across the room as if gravity was a mere suggestion, his dress not rippling even for a single step. In Fince opinion, Beau was the very image of the perfect male. It never occurred to Fince, even for a moment, that Beau was not taurian.
He was perfect.
"My lady, I ask you to kneel." Beau's words were soft and reverent. Fince did as she was bidden, lowering herself until her gilded horns were in reach. She felt the soft petals and warm fingers ensure the crown slipped over both and lowered until it rested upon Fince's brow. She looked up at Beau, who reached out to cradle her head in his hands as he breathed in to speak the words.
"I ask for your-"
"Halt!" Demanded a firm voice. Both Beau and Fince flicked their heads to the side, and saw Relmarson marching towards them, several crowns dangling from the many spikes of her horns. Fince rose and placed herself between Beau and Relmarson.
"Stand aside!" Demanded the gilded taurian, glaring at Fince as if she were nothing more than an irritation. Fince however merely returned the glare, imagining every way she could snap those ridiculous horns off, one by one.
"I have been chosen as my partner's protector, for now and forever." Stated Fince with a tone that brokered no discussion. " I will not move for you or any other." promised Fince with a deep growl and her fists tightening until a knuckle audibly popped in the silence of the room.
Relmarson seemed to sense the utter violence Fince was imagining and leaned to speak over the taurian's shoulder.
"Sir, you are not one of us, so you may have learned our ways to a degree, but I worry you have made a mistake!" Declared the fop.
"Have I?" Asked Beau, tone casual, but made no attempt to step from behind Fince. At no point had Beau made a mistake. Not one person on this planet, in the system or in the entire damn galaxy could move Fince from her place as his chosen protector in this moment. She resisted the urge to grind her hooves into the fine marble, however.
"Yes! You failed to present your flowers to myself." Relmarson claimed, seemingly utterly confused how Beau could have done such a thing. Oh Fince could happily tell her in as many ways as she liked as to why Beau would have the good sense to avoid her, but again, her Beau was speaking and she would not dishonour him.
"Why do you feel this is my mistake?" He asked plainly and without emotion, aware this was the moment of truth.
"Because you do not believe yourself worthy of course." Relmarson called out to the crowd. "When I said you had my interest, I hoped you would understand that it was an invitation, you need not settle with..." Relmarson glanced at Fince, who was currently attempting to bore a hole through Relmarson's head with her eyes.
"...this one." She finished, her argument offered and the ultimatum all but explained. Her, or Fince?
There were several beats of silence in the grand hall as every spectator waited for Beau's response. To taurian wanting to climb the social ladder, this may have been enough to sway them. There were more than one or two swooning males that hoped for the fop's attention. Perhaps in his position, they would have taken her offer.
Instead, the young man reached up and unlatched the veil that was across his face, an act that should have been Fince's right, but had been stolen by the interloper with this outburst. The young man allowed it to drop onto the floor into a discarded heap as he no longer needed to defend his honour as that was Fince's role, not just by culture, but by law.
Beau had waited to hear Relmarson's reason so he could be certain that the pompous idiot would not call a challenge like the old master had warned. Where Fince and Relmarson would fight for the right to Beau's hand and Beau would lose his right to choose his protector and partner and have to settle for the winner, regardless of his wishes.
Thankfully, as the wise old man had predicted, Relmarson would not risk her thin and useless horns in a public fight and instead had nothing but her prestige to offer. Something Beau had zero interest in.
"Relmarson, I have weighed you, measured you and I have found you wanting. Fince, may we leave together?" Beau explained calmly and loudly, ensuring the frozen hall could hear his every word clearly and without confusion.
Despite this clear decision, Relmarson seemed confused. Her mouth worked without noise as her mind seemingly struggled to accept the concept she was rejected.
Remembering a picnic where the young human and taurian had spoken about knowledge and lessons the masters refused to teach, she remembered how she had taught him slang. There had been one word the young male had taught Fince, which leapt to the front of her mind.
Fince leaned forward and whispered.
"Either lower your horns, or 'fuck off'." Fince explained before snorted once directly at the fop, causing Relmarson to flinch at the blast of hot air into her face as if she weren’t expecting it. Fince however had already turned away, facing Beau and unable to keep the joyous smile from her face. She offered an elbow to the smaller Beau who took it gladly and allowed himself to be led away. They ascended up the grand stairs and into the reopened double doors, allowing them to leave and re-enter the world as lawful partners.
The entire ballroom stared at the retreating figures utterly shocked. Relmarson had been rejected. The bewildered female turned back to the crowd, but her mouth merely opened and closed as she tried to come out with a witty retort and failed miserably.
At the top of the stairs however, the pair of them had utterly forgotten that anyone else in the room even existed.
Fince looked down at Beau and smiled, pausing to ask a simple, yet important question.
"Forever?" She asked, honestly and openly.
"Forever." He replied with a wide smile, before pulling Fince down into a kiss, although as instructed by the master, Beau flicked his fan and blocked the view of the still stunned crowd as both he and she shared their first true kiss.
"Will you leave me alone?" Snapped Fince as Janxt once again, reached up to Fince’s neck and adjusted the twisted material there. Not wanting to mess anything up, Fince resisted the urge to shove her roommate despite her apparent dislike of being fussed over.
Janxt frustratingly ignored her and ensured that the tiny length of tied material was indeed straight, before sitting back and relaxing into the plush leather of the seat again. She plucked the delicate flute of something green and bubbling up once more and brought it up to her lips before finally speaking, all the while Fince glared at her through her eyebrows.
"I am your second." Janxt declared with confidence and assumed reverence before putting the spout of the glass to her lips and sipping loudly. She twitched and paused before physically using her other hand to pull her smallest finger out, so it pointed away from the others as she held the glass, seemingly remembering to do so after the fact. At the display of pretend manners, Fince once more got an awful feeling about tonight in her stomach.
"You didn't even know that they existed two days ago." Fince grumbled exasperatedly. This was all a terrible idea, how had it got so far?!
Janxt had never had interest in the high-born society. She'd never shown any energy towards learning anything but the broadest aspects of manners. Yet here she was, sitting across from Fince, dressed in finery that must have cost someone more than the pair of taurians could have earned in a year.
"Mm." She grunted, unconcerned and swallowing another sip of the finest alcohol she had ever tasted. "True, but Charna taught me all I needed to know." She declared with a smirk, turning the glass around in her hand, scrutinising the item. There were flakes of gold, suspended in the clear material. Anywhere else and that glass would disappear into either Fince's or Janxt's pocket.
"Oh yeah? You know what it is to be a 'second'?" Fince demanded, annoyed, frustrated, tired and wanting to lash out in retaliation. Yet Janxt was unflappable, a good trait for a second.
"Oh yes." She began, putting her glass down on the circular holder built into the craft's door. The sticky residue on the platform ensured that the glass would not tip over as the vehicle banked past the city's taller buildings.
"First, make sure your neck thing is straight." Jantx counted off on a finger. "Second, follow you around, make it seem like you don't do any work." She continued, lifting an eye ridge playfully. Fince sighed, resisting the urge to rub her hands into her face.
"Anything else?" She asked, shuffling in her seat as she turned to look out the window.
"Yeah, don't embarrass you." The woman finished, leaning back, and plucking the glass up again before finishing the drink with a flourish.
"How are you this calm?" Fince demanded, feeling itchy again, Janxt shrugged in her peripheral vision.
"I'm buzzed and I am pretending I'm gambling. It's all about pretending you know exactly what you're doing." The taurian said plainly, touching a button on the side of the door. A nozzle extended and a bright pink fluid filled the glass now. Janxt made a noise of wonder before lifting and giving the drink a curious sniff.
The immediate recoiling took Fince by surprise as Janxt held up her wrist to the end of her nose and held the offending glass as far from her face as she could. The noise her throat made seemed alarmingly loud and out of place in the incredible opulence of the vehicle's interior.
Fince had to suppress a smirk that ended up with the corners of her mouth trembling. Janxt was about to suggest Fince try the drink when the glass hissed and bubbled as the pink liquid boiled itself away, leaving the fine receptacle perfectly clean and dry.
The two taurians blinked, looking from the now empty glass, to each other before grinning at one another.
"You're so refined you just nearly drank a cleaning fluid." Fince pointed out as Janxt placed the glass back down on the holder.
"I'm still learning." Her friend retorted, watching a familiar drink be poured in once more.
Fince turned to look back out of the window, and watched her world go by from a brand-new high up perspective. She'd been in taxis before. She'd even used the flying kind once or twice when everyone chipped in. But she had never flown this high before. Not to mention, this was no mundane taxi. Beyond the soundproof window, a pair of pilots, employed by her brother's master, were shuttling the pair of taurians to the upper levels of the City Hall.
The location of The Solstice Pairing Ball.
Even from miles out, Fince could see bright searchlights blazing into the night sky, waving back and forth, declaring to all who had sight that tonight was the night that important and powerful families were coming together like two massive storm fronts.
Fince noticed how her limp hand was resting against her knee. It was shivering. She lifted her arm and held her hand in front of her, turning it over. The tremble continued in such a violent manner that she doubted she could grasp the drink that was still untouched next to her.
Fince clenched a fist, trying to halt the quake. It only abated when her tendons creaked with the force of her hand and even then, the moment she relaxed; the tremble returned.
"Fince." Janxt said plainly, shattering the silence more effectively than if she had shouted. "It's going to be okay."
"What if I mess up though? This is serious. He wanted me here; this isn't some fling. If I make an idiot of myself, I'll blow my chance with him. This isn't just 'oops', this is serious."
"You know this stuff better than me. I don't think you'll make a fool of yourself. But let's say you do. This Beau guy? I think he'll still like you. Plenty of highborn have side interests, apart from their actual wives. You could-"
"Thanks Janxt, you can shut up now." Fince demanded, glowering across the limited space at Janxt, wanting nothing more than to grab her flapping jaw and close it for her. The idea of Beau with anyone but her burned like a foul boiling tar in her chest, sticky and wrong. The tremble in Fince's clenched fist had gone, although neither noticed.
"Don't want that to happen?" Janxt shrugged. "Then shut up, get your game face on." She declared simply, pointing at Fince's untouched drink whilst slugging back her third. Fince grabbed it and took a hefty draught. It fizzed and crackled against her tongue, almost painfully. But as the liquid ran down her throat, the heat warmed her smoothly until it all settled, a hot rock in her stomach. Janxt nodded and pointed directly at Fince, her own claw polished to a reflective shine.
"The ones you're going in front of have never thrown a punch in their lives, they pay people like us to do that. Either of us could kick the crap out of them. But you're playing their game now. You know the rules better than me, but all they can do is giggle and whisper, but since when has that ever hurt me or you?" The taurian demanded with a scowl on her face now that they were getting close. Fince's own features contorted into immediate worry.
"But it could hurt my brother, his master... Beau." Fince whispered, wanting nothing more than to grab at her own perfectly quaffed hair in frustration.
"Then focus on doing it right in front of Beau." Janxt instructed plainly. She was right of course. The mingling part had been the thinnest part of training from Fince's brother Charna. Everything had mostly focused on what she was to do once Beau was in front of her.
Fince took another drink and drained the glass, replacing it on the small dais whilst Janxt wordlessly pressed the button to clean and refill the glass. Fince had a headache, but the alcohol soothed it. The flying vehicle travelled in silence for a few moments, leaning left and right as the craft made its way to its destination. They were close now.
"How are the horns?" Janxt asked calmly as she pushed the refilled drink back into Fince's hands.
"Sore." The taurian admitted, using her hands to touch the pointed protrusions on top of her head. It was odd to feel the smooth sections after having just natural horns for so long. The taurian’s leather pads brushed over the rough horns, then glided over the new material there.
"Gold though..." Janxt murmured reverently. "Regardless of what happens next, those alone will get you contracts I couldn't." She shrugged.
A taurian woman with gilded horns was a taurian who demanded respect. It proved that she could handle the pain and the pressures of dipping her own horns into heated metal. Warriors might use titanium or steel. The high-borns... and now Fince... used gold. The very tips of Fince's horns were coated in the brilliant yellow material, whilst the forking lightning that descended down, painted in arcing lines by artisans, showed Fince's natural growth upwards whilst displayed wealth grew down it like a metal creeping vine. It was as if she had gored some mythical being that bled the substance.
Ignoring that someone else had paid for it, she had still had to suffer through the scorching agony of liquid metal touching her until it cooled. No one could take that suffering away from her. As long as she didn't break a horn at some point in her life, no one could ever question the brilliance of her horns now, lopsided or not.
She looked over to Janxt, whose own coiled horns remained mundane, despite their enviable strength and size.
"How come you turned it down? You could have had this?" Fince asked, nodding up at her own head. Janxt merely shrugged and shook her head mockingly.
"Yeah, having molten gold poured on my horns? No thanks, that's absolutely mental." She replied flatly, having exactly zero interest in dunking her head in molten metal. "How the hell did you get through that?" She asked, a frown on her face. Taurian horns still had sensation. Not in the same manner as flesh, but heat and touch were still felt. Gilding one's horns was not a common choice.
"You'll laugh." Fince murmured, swirling the drink before taking a measured sip.
"I used to laugh at you." Her roommate admitted. "You're a tram spotter for the miser's sake. That's like... the least interesting thing you can enjoy." Continuing before Fince could retort.
"You've gilded your horns, Fince. You're taking on an entire hall of pompous twig-horns that could buy and sell us a hundred times over. I can't laugh at you anymore." Her second declared. A respect in her tone that took Fince by surprise. She had always felt herself second to Janxt, who had always been the more forceful in their relationship. Yet, it felt as if the dynamic had changed. It was subtle, like a single scent in the air, yet the way Janxt was watching Fince told her that having Janxt as her second, was a good thing.
It may only be for an evening, but if this worked out well for Fince, she would ensure any upward movement for her, she would drag Janxt along with her.
"So, how'd you do it?" Janx pressed, noting Fince’s hesitation.
"I didn't need to guild my horns,” Fince admitted. “but even if we succeed tonight and get paired together, if folk knew who I was, what I was... It would look bad on him. If they think I'm some rich nobody, they won't bat an eye." Fince looked up briefly into Janxt's eye.
“I thought of Beau." Fince sighed and continued.
"It was the single most painful thing I've ever felt, but Beau..." Fince's head fell forwards as she stared down into the bubbling drink once more. "From the day I met him, Beau is like a cooling presence, like fresh water after a summer’s day at the factory. My horns were on fire, but with him in my mind, I might as well have been laying in the snow." Fince explained from the heart, meaning every word before finishing by emptying her drink.
Janxt snorted immediately and fell back against the upholstery, grinning from ear to ear back at Fince who returned a smirk, her worry gone once more at the emboldening thought of Beau.
"By the stars, you're so gay." Janxt declared, ever the diplomat as the flying vehicle came to a halt at their destination and the door was opened by a finely dressed greeter of the City Hall.
== 0 ==
What followed was a brief but intense series of flashes before it was over in what seemed like a moment.
When Fince had stepped from the vehicle onto a crushed velvet carpet that was royal purple, she was instantly blinded by the unending flashes of media journalists that flanked both sides of the grand stairs leading up into the hall itself. As she strode forwards, chin held high and shoulders squared, she did not look at either side, nor behind her to where she hoped Janxt would be following.
She climbed the stairs with surety, pretending she was meant to be there and the clothes that adorned her were casual and comfortable.
They wanted to be her. She belonged. A mantra she repeated to herself in her head, over and over until the flashing was over and she was inside. The various cameras forgot about her and turned to the next vehicle that arrived.
Fince strode past two bowing servants and through a hall that was mostly marble with gold highlights. She couldn't actually see due to the various floating spots that floated through her vision and stepped out of the way of the main doors. She briefly raised a finger to her eye and rubbed it, trying to regain sight.
"It's awful, isn't it?" Asked a familiar masculine tone. Blinking through the starbursts yet still blinded, Fince bowed curtly towards the voice, ensuring she kept her spine as straight as possible, but never dropping her shoulder too far forwards.
"Master Lesinro, a pleasure to see you again." Fince toned evenly and with an accent that was akin to her brother's but far less refined. She was worried that it would betray her background, but her brother had assured her that it wasn't as necessary as not using slang and pronouncing her words correctly.
"I am honoured that you recognise me, despite being outright blind. I must admit, you've impressed me so far. I was curt to you, outright rude some would say. Beau being one of them." The elder said as Fince’s vision returned to see him smiling slightly, tilting his head so that the many dangling earrings trailed down his shoulder. "Yet you took my words with the kind of grace I would wish in many of my students."
"You are a teacher, Master Lesinro, I am of the opinion that if a teacher speaks, one should listen." Fince replied, providing her opinion, even if she did have to put it through a few filters until it sounded posh enough. Whatever it was, Fince didn't know, but something she had said brought a grin to the elder's face who then broke into a jovial chuckle. A fan was produced from somewhere from the male’s robes, and in a flourish deployed, hiding the elder's muzzle from sight, leaving only the wrinkled eyes that sparked at Fince.
The fan itself was a match to the master's blue, black, and gold robes. It was as if someone had pulled a set of heavy curtains from the window and allowed them to pile up on the Master’s shoulders. One length of cloth was draped over the male’s arm, so when he brought the matching fan up to his face, the cloak covered the Master’s body as well, shielding him from all sight.
Before Fince could study him further, the master recovered.
"Ah, you've been practising." Mused the master, the fan folding away with a mere flick of a practised finger, revealing his still present smile. Fince inclined her head, allowing herself a smile in return as she closed her eyes and spoke from the heart.
"My brother was quite adamant that I do not shame, Beau, you, him or his own master. I would like to thank you for reaching out to him." Fince replied, bowing briefly before receiving the side of a fan to the front of her snout causing her to flinch, not expecting the strike.
"Oh stop grovelling, you're worth it for Beau. Any idiot could see you two are smitten. It's just a matter of making it official now. It's one thing to get my approval, it's another to survive contact with the enemy, as a saying you might be more acquainted with?" Master Lesinro warned with a serious tone, slipping the fan into a hidden pocket within his sleeve.
"The enemy?" Fince asked.
"The rest of society.” The male explained matter-of-factly. “Walk me in on your arm.”
Without further prompting, Fince stepped to the Master’s left, and offered her right arm, the crook of her elbow low enough for a slender hand to wrap around it.
“Gird your loins now Fince, you may have found males to be rather sharp in the past, but you will find the women here this evening are far more petty.”
“Yes, Master Lesinro.” Fince nodded, straightening her back and keeping her eyes straight.
The pair of them moved to the grand double doors and stood there for a moment, just long enough for Fince to wonder if she was meant to open them herself. The doors themselves opened on their own however, as the noise of a crowd met the two.
“Master Lesinro and Suitor Fince!” Declared a male off to one side, dressed in a uniform of silks as the pair passed. A few heads turned Fince’s way from the mingling crowd who were currently on the dance floor, notably large racks of horns from fellow female suitors. Not one was in an outfit that could be described as ‘subdued’.
Bright greens, neon pinks, stark whites and splashes of luminous yellows.
Fince resisted the urge to rub a hand down her own dark blue. Up until now, she had felt the outfit was grander than anything she had ever tried on before, yet now wondered the choice of subdued colour.
Fince felt the ever so subtle pull of Master Lesinro’s arm towards the bar that ran the length of the hall, away from the crowd. Fince led the way, once again, pretending that she belonged and didn’t need to stare at the wealth on display in the centre of the room.
“I think a refreshment would be best first, wouldn’t you?” The male murmured to Fince.
“Of course. I see many of the partners have arrived already?” She pointed out as she led the pair of them off to the side, eyeing the party goers as they returned to their own interests and ignored them once more.
“Oh yes, the men were here hours before the various suitors arrived.” Master Lesinro explained with a pleased tone as they reached the bar and waited for service.
“No doubt fussing over their hair!” Declared a loud voice that seemed out of place in the grand hall. Fince turned and saw the speaker, a woman in a white and gold doublet, with matching cloak and pants. The cloak had some sort of emblem in the shape of a shield sewn into it, all using the gaudy golden thread.
It meant nothing to Fince, but she at least knew it was a house sigil of some kind. The woman, a taurian with a set of large, magnificent branching horns, seemed at home in the opulence that surrounded them. She seemed to neither care, nor notice Master Lesinro still holding onto Fince’s arm who was silent.
“All these males do these days is fuss and bother while we stand out here, pretending that it all means something.” Declared the new arrival who stood with her fists on her hips, grinning at Fince who met her gaze steadily. She resisted the urge to look away. She was meant to be here. They all want to be her.
“You’re new.” Pointed out the speaker, squinting down at Fince’s outfit. “Interesting attire. It’s always fun to see what the country folk come up with.” The taurian said, gesturing at Fince’s clothes. “No ruffles, no gilding, subdued colour. What do you call it?” Asked the pompous woman. Fince bristled, immediately understanding an insult when one was meant.
“I believe it is called a ‘tux’.” A familiar voice pointed out from behind them, killing the conversation in the same manner as a gunshot.
Both Fince and Jantx didn't even know they had a physical mail slot and yet with a high-pitched jingle, the pair of taurians had jumped in surprise at the same time, cutting their discussion short.
Looking around at the section of wall that folded out, tearing a poster of the pair's favourite LM Tournament team from the wall and illuminated, advising that 'Fince' had mail, using a crackling automated voice.
Jantx glanced at Fince and Fince shrugged back at her before wordlessly stepping over to the box and thumbing the biometric reader. The lid on top of the fold out section clicked, and visibly unlocked, but needed the taurian to lift the flap. She did so carefully and discovered a tiny envelope inside.
As soon as her arm and the envelope were clear of the box, it slid back into the wall and only then did the pair of taurians notice the faded letters of 'mail' etched into the wall. Fince however turned her attention to the envelope, turning it around in her large hands, carefully so as not to damage it.
"Is that handwritten?" Jantx asked, stepping over and peering down at the item. The front had Fince's name written on it, followed by her exact address. The ink was jet back and glistening, the script thickening in width, then slimming down as the letters' loops and swooped, spelling the words out.
The line under Fince's name was certain, made by one strong stroke of someone confident in their penmanship.
"It's textured? Textured paper." Fince pointed out, running a leather thumb pad over the top of the envelope. The creamy paper felt solid, nothing like the flimsy, mass produced paper that was all that Fince had ever known was a 'thing'. They even had fancy paper in the fancy places... Fince's brother had never mentioned it before.
Turning the item over, there was a fold that had been stuck down with a melted blob of…
"Gold?!" Jantx demanded, reaching for the envelope, only to receive a rising elbow to the chin, blocking her grasping arms as Fince rolled her chest away from Janxt, protectively.
"Touch this and I'll snap one of your horns." Growled Fince, giving pause to Jantx as her roommate had never uttered a threat before.
"I wasn't going to take it. I just wanted to see." Janxt mumbled, holding her hands up in surrender.
"Then look with your eyes. I never got one of these before." Fince pointed out, glancing back down. The golden blob had a sigil stamped into it. Some sort of rune that Fince didn't recognise, nor did her translator implant understand. Hesitantly, Fince brought the envelope up, and sniffed it.
It smelt of metal and machines. It had travelled through the pneumatic delivery system, so that wasn't a surprise.
With nothing else to do, Fince fit a claw under the flap of paper and broke the seal, trying as she might to keep it intact as best she could. When she lifted the flap, within the thin package, was a single item. It slipped free of the envelope without effort between Fince's pinched fingers and revealed a card.
The card was of the same or very similar fine paper of the envelope, only the corners of the card were seemingly dipped in more gold, then, whilst wet, the gold had been dragged away from the corners in fine looping and creeping patterns.
In the centre of the card, was more script, this time written in yet more gold, as if the very ink had been molten, despite the paper being unharmed by the heat.
"What does it say?" Janxt demanded, impatiently, keeping a respectful distance from Fince, so as not to receive another elbow to the throat.
"Fince Ah Kelmoro…” She read out loud. “They know my full name?" Fince asked, looking up at Janxt, who merely shrugged before gesturing back at the paper.
"Not that impressive, the cops know your full name if they need it, carry on!" She pressed, just as eager to learn the contents.
"Sorry, um.. You are cordially? Cordially invited to… The solstice pairing b- The Solstice Pairing Ball?!" Fince resisted the urge to grip the delicate gilded invite as she flinched, staring at the page as if it would give more information under her scrutiny. She continued to read out loud, her words spilling over one another as she unconsciously began to pace, Janxt wisely taking a step back.
"This will count as your invitation, and only allows entry for yourself, the named invitee." Fince spoke the words but had already finished reading the rest, and flipped the invitation over, showing a blank backside. "It gives the address for the City Hall with a time and date. Tomorrow night." Fince finished, rereading, then reading the invitation a third time.
"Well.That's something not many of us get to go do. Damn Fince, you're literally moving up in the world." Janxt grinned widely, stating the obvious.
The 'Solstice Pairing Ball' was *the* grandest event in the entire year, for the entire planet. It happened a grand total of twice each year and the invitations were limited to the point that they didn't *have* a price one could sell it for. A Pairing Ball as a concept was for the recent suitors who had been courting one another all year to present themselves as available to be officially courted and, in most cases, those that were courting one another merely gravitated and ended up pairing off. Since males were fewer than females, it also meant those that had multiple suitors could declare their preference and the suitors could vie for the male's hand.
For normal folk, these dances were held in countless bars across the world, if one was being 'fancy' they'd go to a community hall where families with males with good breeding or some etiquette lessons could choose the right female.
'The' Solstice Pairing Ball however... Well... That was for the cream of the crop. That was for the males who were, by far and away, the most appealing and desirable, either by breeding, wealth, or political power. There were no males at 'The' ball who hadn't had some etiquette training, they would have been steeped in that society since birth! This was where the most powerful families of the planet, of the very system, would go to present their prized sons!
And Fince... Had an invitation, held in her trembling hand?
Holding a hand to her mouth, ignoring her roommate's chattering, she tried to start breathing again. Her head span and her world wavered in and out as blood pounded in her ears. By her mother's horns, how was she going to do this?! The males got training, sure, but the women? She'd never heard of what actually happened beyond second hand accounts from her brother when they spoke.
All Fince even remembered was how Charna had spoken about the incredible outfits of- Dreadful realisation dunked ice-cold water on top of Fince.
"Oh shit." She whispered, raising her eyes to meet her friend's. Janxt stopped midsentence, looking up at her now silent roommate.
"Clothes." Fince mumbled through her hand, still holding the invite. Janxt's own face dropped, realisation hitting her, then glanced past Fince to the clean shirt, up on a hanger, sealed in a vacuum bag to protect it.
A nice shirt simply wasn't going to cut it at *The* Solstice ball.
But Fince had spent all what she had saved on the damn thing! If she turned up in 'just' a nice shirt though, she was going to be laughed at! At the very best, they'd assume she was just staff, and a scruffy member of staff at that!
"I can't afford an outfit." The taurian mumbled, leaning against the wall in dismay, holding her head to try to stop the vertigo that caused the room to pull in and out.
"I got a few hundred credits saved up?" Janxt offered, understanding that this wasn't something Fince couldn't 'not' go to. She could chip in, at least a little bit.
"That'll buy me some pants? I think?" The taurian murmured, thinking about what stores could sell something affordable, but fancy.
They stayed like that for a moment, considering their options when a heavy scratch at the door killed the conversation.
Both Janxt and Fince turned to the door, frowning. They didn't get visitors. This was a hab block, food or private deliveries arrived via the window on drones, not the door where someone could get robbed in the corridor. Only themselves, cops or bailiffs arrived via the door. Neither had bills unpaid nor had done anything worth the attention of any police...
Unable to see past the door, Janxt stepped up and opened it, revealing two massive taurians with grand horns and expensive looking armour, too clean and too serious to be anything but bailiffs. They weren't armed, and from what Fince could see from her spot in the room, hiding the invite behind her, they didn't need to be.
"We're up to date on rent lasses, wrong door." Janxt pointed out before keying the door to slide close once more. Only the hydraulics squealed as a large hand stopped the door from closing. Whether it was the door that slid aside by its own choice or by force of the interloper, Fince wasn't sure, but she did know the stranger stepped inside, and filled the space in an instant.
Janxt reacted first, jumping backwards, picking up a stimulant pipe and throwing it directly at the first taurian's head, where it smashed into a thousand pieces sending stale, soiled water flying, coating the formerly immaculate outfit of the bruiser. The first taurian didn't care and immediately charged for Janxt, grabbing at her throat, and lifting her clear of the floor, her legs kicking and kneeing at the attacker without much success.
Fince had thrown the invite onto her bed by this point and had charged the second who followed the first intruder. Fince lowered her head and fully intended on goring the second, before intending on pulling back and stabbing the first in the back. Unfortunately, both taurians were seemingly trained to a professional degree and both were fully expecting the two roommates would fight. They were ready for a scrap.
Fince's horns were grabbed and redirected to the wall, where she thumped against it harmlessly. A thick hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed. She felt herself rise off the ground, her shoulders knocking posters and electronic window frames flying as she was slid up the wall. She cocked a fist back as best she could and punched her assailant in the nose, but the force was weak and barely enough for the taurian to even grunt thanks to her position.
"Will you all calm down!?" Demanded a voice, hard and authoritative. All four of the women in the room froze, turning at once to the voice. Standing in the doorway was a male. His clothes were regal purples with golden piping adorned him from top to bottom with the exception of white ruffles that seemingly exploded out of the edge of each article. His wrists, his neck, his ankles and waist, white ruffles galore. Janxt merely blinked from her elevated position, whereas Fince had a look of disbelieving recognition.
The grip around Fince's neck slackened, allowing Fince to suck in a breath
"C-Charna?!" Gasped Fince, staring confusedly down at her brother, dressed in a resplendent corset that looked out of place in the dirty hab block. Behind his head was a plume of pure white silk, held up by ribbing so that it framed the taurian's head, shielding him from the poverty that surrounded him.
"Please drop both my sister and her friend." Demanded the male, where the two bruisers hesitated then loosened their grip before lowering the pair of them to the ground, which was the polite option, over merely dropping them.
"Apologies sister. My master is a paranoid man and demanded I take three of his bodyguards to come and get you." Explained the elegant male. "I had to talk him down from twenty." Charna explained, briefly smiling awkwardly. His voice was different, the accent of the family long gone, smothered by elegance and proper manners.
It was him though, her brother.
Fince stood and glanced at the massive brute who had just a moment ago had her, literally, up against the wall. The bodyguard stepped back and gave a perfect bow, crisp and sharp.
"Apologies." A single word, from both guards and nothing more. Both Fince and Janxt doubted they would receive anything further and when Fince contemplated the bewildering day later, would understand the precaution. A well-bred male in a hab block? The culture of such a thing would keep all but the mad, be it chemical or otherwise, from taking action against the male, but that was assuming all would respect a male in the first place.
Some resented their elevation above others.
"I heard whispers that you had received an invitation to the ball tomorrow night sister?" Asked Charna, voice still aloof and distant. It felt odd, alien to hear such a voice coming from her brother. He sounded so different over the calls where she would ask him question after question and he would happily respond, smiling and laughing with her. He wasn't smiling at the moment; his ears did not move.
"I-Yes. but how did-" Fince asked, rubbing her neck and straightening.
"Do you have an outfit?" Cut off Charna, hands clasped in front of himself.
"N-no." Fince admitted.
"Thought as much, let's get going, bring your invite. We have work to do and not a lot of time to do it." He decided, turning and stepping out of her apartment, seemingly not wanting to stay there, lest the smell embed itself into his clothes.
A heavy hand landed on Fince's shoulder, and the invitation pushed into her hand. Whilst the hand of the bodyguard didn't shove Fince, the 'guidance' it offered ensured that Fince followed her brother's tail, nice and close.
Fince couldn't help but smirk at the sound of Janxt hurling insults at the back of the first guard who followed after Fince and her new shadow.
== 0 ==
"Bring the blue silks first." Demanded Charna to the team of males. The chattering group were all whispers and tittering as Fince stood in the centre of the room, staring out into the unending infinite of her planet's sky.
Fince's head was spinning, she'd been brought to an upper section of the city and was now standing in the centre of a room that smelt too rich for her to be there. She worried that the underside of her hooves might track something onto the plush white carpet.
The team of quietly whispering males, all of which deliberately caught Fince's eye then looked away an instant later. To go from not being noticed by many males, to suddenly being the sole attention of a group of highborn males, was odd. They dispersed and disappeared into a single door behind where Fince stood at the demand of her brother, however.
It was Fince and Charna, alone in a dressing room, surrounded by hundreds of selections of fabrics of various types and colours. Not a single one appeared to have been printed on the industrial printers that provided 99.9% of Fince's wardrobe.
Fince was overwhelmed and was merely looking around in bewilderment, which was why she flinched when Charna wrapped his arms around her middle and crushed himself into a hug against her.
"Hey little sis." murmured Charna, "I missed you so much." His accent, the twang of a rig worker family, had returned. Blinking in shock, she draped her arms over her brother's back and held him, trying not to damage or dirty his fine clothes.
"Hey Charna! It's been-"
"Four months and forty-two days." He immediately replied, breaking the hug, and running his fingers along the hairline around his head sash, ensuring nothing was out of place. They hadn't parted for more than a moment before the sound of the door reopened and Fince glanced round to see the team of males had returned, carrying a dizzying array of several shades of blue in different materials.
"I'm afraid my studies have made me rather busy." The strange voice of her brother began again, the accent lost once more. Fince frowned for a moment, before smoothing her features as the team arrived around her. Her brother watched them closely.
Was it an act? Fince considered. A persona adopted in an instant like a cloak.
Without needing it explained, Fince understood in a moment. It was appearances, like bowing and the various rules and roles. The staff might talk, and if they spoke of how Charna had a commoner's accent, it might hurt his standing. His background was not important, it was his future that mattered. Fince would not be a weight on her brother's ankle, but a lifting set of hands that would raise him higher, out of the muck.
Fince subtly straightened and shifted her chin upwards, pretending that she was meant to be where she was, like they did as children. She had never dreamed that she would one day stand in a tailor's parlour in the penthouse of a skyscraper that allowed Fince to see only clouds. Her chest expanded as she breathed in and held it there. She could pretend, even if she didn't believe it.
"It's alright, although I don't know how you knew about my invite?" Fince mentioned, blinking slowly as she observed the lazy rolling of the clouds. The males tittered and murmured to one another, holding material up to Fince before measuring parts of her. Ghosts of touches graced her body all over, Fince refused to enjoy them.
Was this what Beau went through? All those gowns and dresses and hats...
"My master received word." said Charna, his tone playful, despite the odd accent. "A warning that you may need a guiding hand to your choice of fashion for the grand ball." Huh. An interesting way of putting the fact the Fince hadn't even seen proper attire in person, let alone owned outfits to choose from.
Charna was adjusting the truth whilst others were present. He wasn't lying, but in front of the staff, he was implying that Fince wasn't just a factory worker. A glance showed a sly smirk on her brother's face. The same smirk he wore when she got in trouble, and he didn't when they were younger.
Two could play at this game, Fince may not have the training, but she'd grown up with the rabble. It may not be called this way in high society, but Fince knew how to chat shit too.
"Your tastes were always finer than mine." She murmured, readjusting her chin upwards. "What would you suggest?" She asked, as if the options were varied and open to her.
"My master has ensured whatever we choose, he shall ensure it is ready immediately. It would look poor on him should my sister arrive and not be at the height of fashion."
"If price is no concern, then what of silks?" Silk. Reportedly the finest material one could wear. A silk sash upon a male's brow showed his quality at a glance. A full silk outfit should mean Fince had quality? Right?
"Oh sister, you are a tonic. I think a female wearing silk would certainly get the conversation going, but do we really need to cause drama again? I know how much you like the attention, but no, silk is perhaps too gauche."
Fince dramatically sighed and rolled her eyes, smirking at her brother who had begun to circle her. The grin he was suppressing was obvious to her. She was enjoying this game.
"So, tell me about the student of Master Lesinro, I hear you've gotten his attention." Her brother then asked rather pointedly. Fince's smile dropped.
"You know about him?" She asked quietly, immediately disarmed, and oblivious to the males who now worked in utter silence.
"Everyone knows about him." Grinned Charna. "His master didn't want you to be embarrassed, that's why we're here. Not everyone knows about you though, how do you know him?" He asked with a tone of genuine curiosity, rather than accusation.
Fince debated lying, to continue the game, but the moment she thought of Beau, her thoughts unraveled.
"I went to the open ball on the first night. I was hoping to dance with someone." She admitted honestly. She only went for the chance to maybe meet someone...
"And you succeeded." Pointed out Charna, still grinning from ear to ear, thrilled for his sister.
"He's amazing brother... I feel..." Fince paused, realising no word she knew could describe what she felt. Each was too pale and anaemic to describe the depth and colour of her emotions for him.
"Go on." Pressed Charna, tilting himself as he spoke to goad her. She could only start the sentence and hope the words her mind filled in were right by the end.
"I feel... complete when he's nearby. Just thinking about him makes me feel both weak and beyond powerful. I feel like I could tear a mountain apart if he wanted me to, yet with a word he could unravel me." She murmured, scarcely over a whisper as she considered the depth of those feelings.
It was only one sentence, yet in its wake, there was both silence and an absence of movement. The tailors had all stopped, each looking up at Fince as if waiting for the next line in the story. Instead, Charna merely cleared his throat, snapping the team back to reality.
"Boys. Focus." He rumbled, a senior, addressing the youth. Quite rightly, they snapped to attention and resumed their work. Charna gave Fince a soft smile, gesturing at the team, now a flurry of scissors, pins, and blue cloth.
"Sorry, they are in etiquette training. Being an accomplished tailor is a required skill." Explained Charna, resuming his circuit of his sister.
"They'll make my outfit?" Fince asked, raising her large arms out to the side at the silent behest of two of the team.
"Oh yes. If it is not the best at the party, their work will not be awarded a top grade. If your outfit is considered poor taste or horns forbid; mocked. Then they fail the course. Your success is theirs." Explained her brother as he disappeared behind her. Fince smirked and caught one of their eyes.
"No pressure, right?" She murmured, trying to lighten the mood. This got a round of titters and yet more whispering giggles from the males as they flowed around her, draping her in different embroidered fabrics.
"I have shown them an idea provided to me from our benefactor. An odd design, one that would be inappropriate, rather alien, if I do say so, but a grand framework for something better." Mused Charna cryptically.
"It seems the target of your affection has a master who wishes only the best. Not just for the success and growth of his student, but his happiness too. You are linked to one without immediately barring the other. He's gambling on you, so whilst this team bet their futures on your appearance, you and I are going to practise our manners." Declared Fince's brother as he drew up to his full height directly in front of her.
"You're going to teach me etiquette?" Asked Fince, staring at her brother as he stood before her, hands clasped behind his back.
"As much as I can within twenty-four hours. The ball is tomorrow night of course..." Murmured Charna, reminding Fince of the ticking clock.
On the one hand, it was going to be the most important moment in her life. On the other, she was going to get to see Beau once more...
Fince walked through the open area as a bundle of nerves, her eyes flicking from each of the other occupants of the square, to the next, dismissing those with horns and trying to study the ones that remained. Were they who she was looking for? Why were the veils so cursedly popular at the moment?!
It was rare for her to feel this way. Oh sure, she got nervous on the first day on the job. She got nervous when her team went through to the finals of the LM tournament. But this was different. She felt hot, yet cold, itchy and uncomfortable. Her palms were sweating until she had to quietly wipe them against the rear of her pants as she approached the very middle.
She glanced down at herself, tilting her head to cast a critical eye over the smartest shirt she now owned. She'd never used an iron before, but the real, naturally grown material she now wore marked her as someone of at least some note and required it to be crease free. It had cost her the vast majority of her last pay packet, but even she, a luddite in the ways of finery, felt like she belonged while wearing it.
At least a little bit.
She was here because supposedly, a human lived in one of the buildings that overlooked the square Fince was now standing in the very centre of. There was at least one human on this planet that Fince knew for certain and with the rarity that was humanity, the idea that another human might be here was simply too far-fetched.
The taurian looked for the blue outfit the human had worn the night before, the distinctive wide brimmed hat that had concealed his face. At the memory of the human's face, Fince's heart stuttered, and her breath became shaky. Would he wear the same thing? It looked expensive, so he might not be able to afford...? No. As a human, money would be easy for him to get a hold of, he wouldn't be in the same outfit. Don't be stupid.
Her shoulders heaved as she sighed in frustration. Why was she so obsessed?
Last night, the opening night of the solstice, had been incredible, but when the ending bells rang out for the first night, the human male's protector had materialised, given Fince a strange look and whisked him away, out of each other's arms and around a corner. 'The look' hadn't been disapproving, the elder male hadn't given her a dismissive snort, nor had the elder lifted his snout to indicate Fince was not worthy...
But...
What did a steady gaze mean? He neither ignored, nor shunned her? The loudest part of her mind gave any number of excuses while a tiny voice suggested it meant something positive. The taurian had resolved to ask her brother, next time he called. He knew all about the subtle things in high society unlike her.
She and the alien male had danced well into the night and even she had to admit that they had danced so well together. The solstice dances had 'official' steps nowadays, yet when the pair had simply let their bodies move, away from the dance floor near the refreshments… oh how they had flowed.
Fince wasn't a poet, or anything fancy like that, but there was no other word to describe it. The human had surprised her with his own moves, made by an alien world far from here, and yet? Fince had reacted with her own movements, merely reacting, not thinking. It was as if the human had blown away cobwebs and smoke that cluttered Fince's mind and they had just... clicked.
Now though? Like an addict waiting for her next fix, Fince was left desperate to just see him once more. That's all she wanted, to see him. By her mother's horns, why was she so itchy!?
The horned taurian ran a smoothing hand along the length of her face, over the top of her head and scratched an itch at the back of her skull, before realising her mistake and quickly rubbing the fur across her muzzle back down flat. Worrying that she had messed up her appearance, her hooves 'clopped' against the marble tiles of the square as she raced towards the reflecting pond to review how she'd messed up her hair style.
She'd spent at least an hour going over every inch of her fur to try and get it as best she could so if she ran into him again, she'd look a sight better than work overalls. She'd even approached one of the male taurians who lived in the same complex to ask for help. At first, he'd quite rightly assumed she was there to ask after him, but had immediately perked up when Fince had explained she wanted tips on how to impress a man.
The rippling reflection looked back up at Fince, the waters mutating her into something any male would be embarrassed to stand beside. She closed her eyes, turned around and sat on the concrete bench that ringed the pond. Opening them, she looked again at the various visitors.
A well-dressed couple walked by, a resplendent male with his face exposed. Not who Fince was looking for, dismissing the objectively handsome male in an instant. A group of three taurians, all facing away, distance made them possibly short enough but horns were visible. Certainly not. Next, a veiled figure in pink satin drew Fince's eye, before she saw a hoof beneath the dress as the male ascended the nearby stairs and lifted the material to prevent him from stepping on the hem.
Curse it!
Fince felt a wave of defeat wash over her. This was foolish. It was the action of a young girl, besotted with the first male she encountered. With a self-admonishing snort, she accused herself that she was about one mental step away from declaring she would marry him as the young often did before they discovered their place in the world. Her shoulders slouched as her place in the world was once more settled across her back like a lead cloak and reminded her of what came from dreaming too big.
There was no reason Fince thought the human would be here today. To be in the same park this morning, after a late night of dancing. Males were more delicate than them, they needed more time to recover. Maybe she should stay here until the evening, so in case he appeared throughout the day and-
No!
She snorted again, balling her fists. This was madness! She didn't even know his name and he never learnt hers, so why would he even remember her? There was nothing other than one mumbled rumour the human even lived nearby! To say he was even within a physical mile of where she was sat was at best a wild guess. He could be busy, he could be-
"May I sit down?" Asked a gentle voice, if not slightly out of breath, the clicking of their approaching hooves on marble ensured Fince this newcomer was too, not who she wished to see.
"Oh course, please excuse me." Fince replied, standing with a flinch and starting a bow at the shrouded individual.
"Oh please don't leave, do you know how hard it is to run in heels? Now *that's* something I never thought I'd say." Came the voice of the concealed taurian, small discs of silver catching the light and flashing Fince. The taurian looked up at the voice, frozen in a half-bow as the speaker gripped his dress, and displayed an intricately woven shoe that raised the wearer up on a single column, mimicking a taurian hoof, despite the alien foot held within the footwear.
No taurian would lift his skirt to a random stranger...
Fince pulled a muscle in her neck with the sheer speed and force of her looking up at the still concealed face. The gloved hand that reached up, delicately pulled the material to one side and the human's grinning face was revealed for her and her alone. He gave her a wink that immediately caused the inside of her ears to burn a deep, deep red as the material was let drop back down, the tiny disks tinkling as it concealed the human's face once more.
"Would you sit with me please? I've been reading etiquette books all morning and apparently a male sat alone is a male with undefended honour. Would you defend me for a bit?" Asked the man, who sat on the concrete bench before gently patting the space directly beside him.
Speechless, Fince sat as requested, giving the male respectful space, yet the human immediately shuffled closer, breaching an unknown number of protocols and social rules.
"I spent all morning watching the people tidy up after last night out here." Explained the male as if discussing the weather. "A few hours later, I look up from a stuffy tomb about which leg of a krad to eat first during a meal and who do I see in my tiny world?" He asked, the hidden face turning to peer at Fince. Even hidden, she could feel his eyes watching hers, freezing her in place.
She wanted this! She'd have given her left horn to have sat down and talked with him. Ask him a hundred questions and tell him everything he made her feel just by being there.
Yet, now he was there, like a dream or fevered hallucination? Her throat had become dry, and she felt a stutter on her lips, waiting for her to speak so it could make a fool of her. She pulled her lips tight and cleared her throat.
"Uh, who?" She asked, voice strained. The veiled male gently bumped her arm and gave a warm, bubbling laugh that felt like wriggling, clawless fingers in her stomach.
"You! I'd recognise your horns anywhere. I still struggle with faces, but the horns help massively."
Fince raised a fist to her mouth and quietly coughed into it. It was all she could do to stop herself from practically leaping off the bench and bellowing to the sparse crowds that the human male recognised *her*, he recognised *her* by ***her horns***!! She wanted to punch the air, but instead settled for quietly vibrating, not to mention trying and failing to keep the massive grin off her features.
Fince turned back and addressed the veil directly.
"M-my horns?" Fince blinked, noticing the sunlight hitting the bench behind the male, revealing the human's features beneath if she focused. A gloved hand gestured to Fince's forehead.
"Yeah, the little white tips and you've got three ridges on your left... my left, while two on the other. Everyone else just all look the same." Shrugged the male, a very female movement as he turned away and seemingly gazed out at the other visitors. Fince was still reeling from being told her lopsided horns were desirable, or at least a boon rather than a hindrance?!
"I have to admit, I'm glad I saw you. I needed a break." He admitted his voice dropping into a relaxed, husky murmur, physically relaxing as Fince followed his gaze across the square.
Did the day feel... brighter? It was as if her brother had taken up his old paintbrush and had dropped more watercolour into the world all of a sudden. Fince let out a pent up breath in one steady stream, the tension in her shoulders bleeding away before she turned back to him, finding her voice once more.
"But why? I would have thought a human such as yourself would have whatever entertainment they desired?" She asked, considering that should a human ask of the government, the taurian government would immediately agree to almost anything. Everyone knew whoever could seduce a human into their territory gained more political powers and bolstered their own borders. What madwoman would attack a border world with a human on the planet? The battlefield of public opinion would be lost in an instant.
"Well... You're half right. Problem was I mentioned I wanted to see the taurian culture properly. I'm from a bit of a mixed family and my parents always wanted me to know what my history was. Personally, I've always found culture shocks to be quite interesting, but whenever you ask any of the other races about taurians, they just say you 'don't have a culture' or you 'sold it'." Explained the young man, briefly touching Fince's arm with the side of his own.
"I can't say they're wrong." Fince admitted, thinking back to the rings of flowers from the night before. What used to be a male empowerment tradition, allowing them to make the first move, was now perverted into a commercial action to drag punters into a bar with the plan on blinding them with males and booze. She was lucky to know more of tradition than most thanks to her family paying for her brother to go to etiquette school. She'd always listened with rapt attention when he periodically returned and relayed the information. Each time he came back, he held himself in a new way, refining who he was until it was as if he was a totally different person.
"But you're steeped in culture." The human pointed out, dragging Fince back to the present. "These shoes? I asked the master about them; it started when taurians hadn't even left their original planet yet. That was like... two thousand years ago. There are entire libraries of instructions for a male to handle and react to literally every conceivable situation." Again, it was true, depending on the part of society a male taurian wanted to be part of, they stayed in education until they were masters of their craft.
The few that completed all there was to know were creatures beyond a mere taurian. They could dance, sing, and act. They could engage in sword play, were fine marksmen and knew taurian histories to the point that certain generals were known to keep companion males who they could discuss active warzone strategy with.
But how does one explain that politely?
"Men, such as yourself, are... important. We may have forgotten the importance of certain traditions of the past, but we should support or males to better themselves." Fince explained concisely. A gloved hand came up to point at Fince, a rude gesture, but the taurian merely enjoyed the relaxed nature of the movement. It occurred to her that he wore gloves and the ancient boots to hide his nature as a human, a negative no doubt in the circles he was about to submerge himself in.
"But that right there, that's culture. Granted, I haven't quite got the hang of it yet. My guardian has said this morning that he's 'fast tracking' my training thanks to something that's popped up."
"Like what?"
"That, I don't know. He's being coy about it. But these dangly things..." The head jiggled, jingling the tiny disks. "...aren't meant to touch when I move. I've been told that if they make a noise, it is a 'failure against my dignity as males should be able to choose to be seen or heard'." Quoted the human, his mischievous grin barely visible beneath the material of his veil.
"At least your parents will be proud you have made it into an etiquette school? Not everyone who applies gets a place?"
"Ah, I'd like to think they'd be proud, but they didn't make it. I was at school when-"
"There you are." Came a new voice, interrupting the young man.
The pair of them looked up at the newcomer. The unveiled face of the older male from the night before approaching. As he moved, the dress that surrounded him didn't so much as ripple or react, not even as he ascended the stairs. It was as if the taurian floated along the ground on some unseen platform.
He too, wore a wide brimmed hat, but the concealing material was absent, although the tiny golden disks on strings hung there, unmoving and not making a sound as the male approached.
"Master Lesinro, as fate would have it, I ran into our friend from last night. A pleasant coincidence, wouldn't you say?" The young male explained, seemingly forgetting that he had apparently run to catch Fince before she left.
She decided to keep this to herself for the time being.
"Mm, fate, how queer." Replied Master Lesinro as he turned his head like a turret and focused on Fince, who immediately stood and bowed deeply until her back was almost horizontal.
"Sir." Fince began, but whatever words she was about to speak were lost.
"Do not bow so deeply, you are submitting too much, and you would then need to claw that back in certain circles. Respect stops at forty-five degrees, and grovelling begins afterwards." Toned the male with a teacher's voice that had Vince back in school in an instant. She straightened, then adjusted, following the instructions as best she could.
"Good. If 'fate'..." The teacher mocked. "Is so intent on you two mysteriously bumping into one another, I feel it would be best not to undersell yourself. As for you, you've had your rest, time for a test, I believe a tea setting might be in order."
"But it's so lovely out, wouldn't it be nice to have lunch-"
"Tomorrow, yes. You may have your lunch out here, but for now we work. Come along." Demanded the aged teacher and guardian. Wait... Lunch? Tomorrow? The human was going to be here tomorrow Fince realised with excitement!
Stunned into silence, Fince watched the pair turn away before a question bubbled to the front of her befuddled mind.
"W-whats your name?" Fince called, breaching any number of manners or social ques and for a taurian would demand they ignore the madwoman bawling in the centre of town.
The veiled human however turned to look over his shoulder and the cloth mask replied.
"Beau! Beau Chen!" Called the humans voice once more. He was immediately righted by the elder, a strong looking arm, at least for a male, looping into the crook of Beau's arm and dragging him forward.
Fince stood here, watching them leave until the crowds swallowed them both.
The weeks leading up to the few days that made up the summer solstice had been a flurry of increased productivity and tension coiling like a spring, wound to its absolute maximum. The factories overproduced to cover the approaching down time, which led to increased stress, but that was now over and done with.
Every taurian on Rincabor had been waiting for this week for the vast majority of the last eight months. Fince watched the clock ticking down to the end of her shift with anxious anticipation along with everyone else. Her job wasn't hard, but the days could be long, and today was feeling as if it were three times longer than normal.
The air was charged with the collected excitement of everyone, and the entire staff of the factory were near silent as they all waited, doing their jobs as required, but none wanting to be there anymore. In all honesty, today was one of the two easiest days in the factory, merely because the vast majority of the machines had been shut down in anticipation of the week of the summer solstice.
Some off-worlders would be brought in to do maintenance in their absence while the staff enjoyed a week of state mandated down time.
"Three... Two... One..." Fince mumbled to herself until a high-pitched klaxon wailed across the factory. It was echoed by other alarms and other klaxons in neighbouring manufacturers and workhouses. What followed was a collective roar that came from the throats of every taurian in the continent all bellowing in excitement over the beginning of the summer solstice. Fince bellowed her own lowing into the chorus, one of many, and many as one.
A week of merriment and partying had begun and no one wanted to be in the factory a second longer!
Fince had deliberately left any belongings she normally brought at home today, as she had no intention of making the journey to the locker rooms before leaving. She joined the throng of thousands of fellow taurians as they raced toward the metro, which would race them into the city proper.
Once more, Fince was glad to not have to go and shower first. She might not be at her finest, but being a camera monitor to watch for dangers meant she was not sweaty or covered in any foul smelling particles like some.
The metro was crammed, but thanks to her forward planning, she'd got there as part of the initial wave and secured a spot on the tram before the crush. Granted by the time the doors closed she was pressed up against the glass of the far side, cheek and chest pressed up as the crush of bodies forced themselves on as tight as possible. There was no such thing as 'personal space' this evening.
A few minutes of high-speed rail and the pressure eased as the crowd disembarked, all of the workers whooping and cheering onto the platform, matched by those already there, already drunk and cheering with them.
The capital city, Cherinbelt, was a typical taurian city and had many advertisements and bright lights, but tonight the adverts were removed and were replaced with messages from their leaders, congratulating the workers on their efforts and declaring a city-wide party had commenced.
The hologram emitters created small ribbons of tape to fall from the sky, landing into the crowds below. Fince reached up and admired how her hand blocked the light, the tape seemingly melting into the leather pads of her hands.
A trio of male voices called out with compliments and teasing words. The crowd of women looked to the side where a series of three males were shouting that the bar they were standing above had just opened before throwing out large circular loops of sewn flowers that looped and hooked on and around the various crowd's horns. Each of the males had a different coloured flower making up their ring of flowers, one being blue, one being red and the final being yellow.
Those who had the male's flowers land on their horn were grabbed by the surrounding crowd and forcefully dragged toward the bar where the female who had received a ring of flowers could exchange them for a drink as tradition demanded. Fince grinned at the whole show, until a ring of yellow flowers landed on her own still growing horns and large, strong hands grabbed the front of her work overalls and began roughly dragging her back towards the bar while the male with yellow flowers briefly gave him a wink, and lifted her head sash for a split second, stunning Fince into submission.
The original tradition was that males who wished to express their interest in a partner would gift the female with a crown of flowers, signalling to others that the female was being courted without the need for the male to say anything that might bring their honour into question. Granted, over time, the various businesses perverted the meaning behind the crowns where in the modern era, the crowns were merely a desire item because they smelt of a male's scent and they could be exchanged at the bar where they would be broken and binned by the tenders so the crown could not be used twice.
For one of the first times in her life, Fince became a minor celebrity at the bar, as one of the very few to receive a crown, the punters each asked her for the crown or offered her something in exchange. Not willing to give away such an item, she exchanged it at the bar and was handed a large flagon of something blue and frothy.
The jostling and body shoving at the bar meant Fince spilt a portion of her drink so moving away she down half of it so the rambunctious crowd wouldn't waste her very first solstice drink.
She stepped from the bar and to the side where the sea of taurians marching back and forth would not crash into her and she could enjoy her drink properly.
Fince was a young taurian. She readily admitted she was lucky in life. She had a good job, had her health and had strong horns, albeit they were still growing. She'd marked herself with semi-permanent ink at the very base of one of her horns and over the course of the last month, a sliver of new horn had moved the ink along the length, leaving a gap between the mark and her scalp.
The concept that she still had some mass left to grow out pleased her, as she wasn't much more or less than the average and these days horns were all that mattered to most. Just because she had read up on the old ways and knew what 'proper' etiquette was, did not mean she was more desirable anymore. At one point in the past, a female with an understanding of male etiquette would have made her more desirable as a suitor than those without.
Sighing at the loss of something she couldn't describe, Fince downed her drink and put the glass on the floor, pressed against the wall before rejoining the throng of people.
It was the same on every Taurian planet and station. Twice a year, on the week of both the winter and summer solstice, it was a planet and station-wide party where both males and females removed their social taboos and put them to the side. It was the two times a year where every male would pair up with at least one other taurian and become one.
In the modern era it was a competition of the women to bed a male and prove they were 'real' women, desirable by men. Anyone who didn't lose their virginity on their first solstice was considered a lesser woman.
Still, trying to chat up a male in one of these bars was going to be impossible. Ignoring the males automatically were granted access to the VIP sections where they had the pick of the crowd, Fince just simply didn't stand out enough.
But she knew something the vast majority didn't.
The town hall was a governmental building which had a selection of rides and stalls outside. Fince ignored it for the most part, realistically it was just a large pop-up entertainment zone for those too young for the city proper while their parents enjoyed themselves. It wasn't somewhere to find a suitor.
Fince marched up the wide marble steps that led to the grand hall and quietly stepped inside. Classic music played and soothed Fince's ringing ears from the deafening noise of the city outside. As she closed the door behind her however, all that remained was the music, that and the dancers.
In the centre of the hall were a series of dancers, a male and a female, dancing in unison as they spun and twirled around one another. The females led and the males followed.
Fince's heart sank to her hooves. They had already begun and the few males that were here had already picked their partners. Their fine gowns and hidden faces were immaculate, not to mention the females wore resplendent finery that made Fince's work clothes appear as if she were a mere janitor.
The sigh that shook her was felt from her horns to the tip of her tail. It was her fault; she went into the bar and lost time when she should have run here.
"It's most impressive, isn't it." Mused a quiet voice to her left. Fince flinched and looked down, seeing a covered male in a full-length gown, matching gloves and a wide brimmed hard, with a veil that hung down as if weighed.
"Sir, apologies for my lack of manners. You are right, they do look wonderful." Fince replied, quickly bowing at the hip in a perfectly practiced formal bow. The covered figure plucked the dress on either side and curtsied. If Fince wanted to commit a grand social faux pas, she might point out that the curtsy was sloppy, instead she chose to revel in the fact she was talking to a male who hadn't been taken yet!
"I must admit, I'm not... versed in the various steps of the dance. When that became known I was passed over." Admitted the male, his voice odd but lovely to listen to.
"Well... back when the tradition began, there was no dance and while the various great composers and performers named the music and mapped the common steps, the original reason for the dance was to see if a pair were compatible."
"Oh? How so? I know frightfully little about the history of it all."
"That's quite common these days, but it was a, um, special interest of mine." Admitted Fince, regretting it immediately. She was meant to be describing her greatest achievements to the male, proving she was strong and fit. Picking a fight with someone and locking horns to prove her worth.
Yet... the conversation... felt... nice?
"Please go on, I'm genuinely interested, but shall we get a drink while you explain?" Asked the male lightly. Fince's head swam but she nodded and extended the crook of her elbow, which the veiled male grasped lightly and allowed himself to be led by her. She felt lightheaded, what a wonder?! What a dream!
The male's silk gloves brushed against the flesh of Fine's hands, it was real silk. *Real* silk. Was this male a noble? Some hidden gem, not taking part in the finer dances that were held in the high spires?
"So, originally, two suitors would dance together and see if they worked well together. Accidently striking each other in the shin, for example..." A lyrical laugh from beneath the opaque veil.
"Would be undesirable I would guess!"
Fince grinned stupidly at the male's laugh before remembering herself and asking the barman for two drinks, wincing at the price. Still, one sip confirmed it was real alcohol, not the synthahol of the city bars. The male merely stirred his, not revealing his face to drink just yet.
"So what if I didn't have a coordinated bone in my body?" Asked the veil.
"According to tradition, you would find an equally uncoordinated woman that would match your style. Or one that could compensate for you, but I doubt that sir, I have to be a gentlewoman and correct your besmirching of your honour."
The male tilted his head, the hat tilting at an angle before the shoulders beneath the dress sagged.
"I will come clean to you as you are too kind for me to take advantage and steal your attention away. I am not what I seem." Admitted the male, Fince's heart sinking once more. The male's hand came up, sweeping half of the veil from the male's face, revealing; a flat, furless face, peeking out from beneath the traditional male dress.
"You're a human?!" Spluttered Fince before wincing and lowering his voice. It was only a second later before noting the sash, covering the human's forehead, despite the known lack of human horns.
"I wanted to experience your culture. I begged my guardian to let me experience it and here I am. No one else knows who or what I am and with this being where the 'traditional' taurians court one another, I'm as safe as I can be. If not ignored by those who don't want to dance with a lead foot." Explained the human, bringing up his drink and daintily sipping from him and pulling a face as the strong drink burnt a line down his throat.
Fince was stunned, but... she liked... how he looked. It was odd; he was nothing like a male of her kind and yet... all too similar.
"I wouldn't mind... showing you the dance, if you like?"
"They've already begun I'm afraid."
"The dance isn't traditionally done in a line like they're doing it. It's meant to be done anywhere. A forest. A storeroom. A bedroom. Anywhere two potential l-lovers might want to see if they would be... compatible."
A pause before the now once again veiled human put his drink onto a window ledge.
"How do we dance?" He demanded in a calm, soothing tone. Fince put her drink next to his and stepped in front of the male and held up her hand, palm vertical.
"First, we press our hands together."
"Like this?"
"Yeah, then... I step to your side... and you step to mine... good, now... we listen to the music and guess."
A few minutes later and Fince acted without thought, taking the secret human's hand, and spinning him in a twirl before he 'fell' into the waiting arm of Fince who caught her partner as the music faltered and fell away. The two were breathing heavily, the veiling having fallen away, with the human staring fiercely up at the equally excited taurian.
A few metres away, the bartender glanced at the other male who was watching the pair with interest.
"So, you're meant to protect him?"
"Yes." Replied the guardian taurian, an older male who had already done this 'song and dance'.
"Shouldn't you be protecting him? His honour?"
"Oh, get that broom out of your rear. The young man needs a good lady and I don't think an army of myself could stop that woman now." The guardian lifted the drink they'd been nursing and cheered the unknowing couple. "Here's to the new couple. This ought to make my job more entertaining."
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"But it's illegal!" Pointed out the canid, quickly checking over his shoulder, then the other one, ears twitching and nose shuffling. A canid, even an adolescent like Olio. Max just grinned his mischievous grin. They all but adults and about to leave education behind to pick up jobs themselves, it felt like the end of an era.
Like if they didn't start breaking the rules now, they never would later. A childhood inside the ever-present metal hull of the GC station had been both of their 'worlds' for as long as they could walk. It was pretty hard to commit crimes outside of organised crime on these things thanks to the incredible control that the GC had over these artificial worlds.
"And? You always follow the law?" Asked Max, gently rocking himself in the hammock that had been tied up between two pipes. Olio and he were currently in their 'clubhouse'. What had started as a 'den' of sorts when they were actual kids had turned into a pretty damn good place to go hide when they wanted to be assured, they weren't being spied on.
No security strips could see into their space, but that didn't stop the canid from being paranoid. Max couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for Olio. His biology compelled him, instinctually, to follow instructions and seek authority. To be the authority, or at least it's arm.
"Yes!" The canid replied, worry etched on his features. Max merely reached out and gently held Olio's oversized head before bringing him in to rest his head on top of his stomach. The canid had grown rapidly as of late; he was already so big that they had to raise Max's hammock just so the canid could talk to him without being sat on the ground. It was a bit daunting to climb out on his own, but for the most part Olio just lifted Max in and out of the hammock as and when.
"Bah. Time to break the law then." Max declared, shrugging happily, gently scratching his nails into the skull of the canid who's eyes rolled back and upwards, his eyelids dropping down.
Max couldn't help but chuckle at the tiny pink tongue tip that appeared at the very end of Olio's muzzle.
"Hnnn... but you can just give me permission?" Olio pointed out, cracking an eyelid, although the eyeball rolled around a moment before focusing on the lounging human. Max merely shook his head.
"No. You're gonna' break the law so you can say you did. Do it, without my permission." Max retorted, "You really want to go to basic without being able to say you've pulled at the lease at least once? You know you can't lie for shit." Max grinned down at the canid.
He wasn't going away forever, Christ, he was going to be coming home every night except when mandated to stay in the barracks. But the other canids were likely able to say they stole something, or smoked or drank something they weren't allowed to.
How many canids could say that they had gotten close enough to a human to touch them, without the guardian pulling their arm off?
Olio stood up, blinking away the dopamine of scratches and shook himself, the great canid mane ruffling in the enclosed space. Max always loved how it looked like a rockstar's hairdo. Olio would love metal music if Max could ever get his hands on some.
"Alright. I'm not asking permission." Declared Olio, Max raising a single eyebrow in response, but said nothing.
A giant clawed hand rose up and approached Max's head. It hovered for a moment, before the leather pads made contact with Max's head. They stood there, frozen for a moment before Olio found the confidence to curl his fingers slightly and scratch at Max's scalp.
The human had expected it to be clumsy and painful, even by accident, but Olio's care meant that he was purely focused on actually petting Max. Eventually, the canid's hand started to gently stroke Max's hair, going with the grain before the leather pads brushed down the side of his face, touching the beginnings of a scraggly beard, grown only by the pubescent.
Max had his eyes closed before flinching as a leather thumb pad stroked along his eyebrows.
They'd done a thousand of these types of operations. They'd picked up every single species known to the universe, from the tiny chintians to even the mighty ursidains. They didn't discriminate, just because their goal was a fellow ursidain. In their eyes, it was just a job. Just another task.
Not even the fact that their objective was a human daunted them. Humans were easier to handle, it was getting past the security teams that was the hurdle.
Still, they'd used this method before and it worked well.
"Nearly there." Grumbled 'Cutter'.
Cutter wasn't his real name, it was just his job to make sure they got in and out of areas without issue. Literally using a cutter that sliced a hole in floors, walls and even one time; ceilings so that the team could get places where they weren't wanted. That was the method they were using; the human was guarded, but not above them. Roof top access was locked off despite it being one of the tallest structures on the station, but that didn't stop the team from cutting a hole straight through the roof.
"Guards?" Asked 'Top'. The leader and shot caller, turning to another ursidain, 'Tech', who was listening to communications.
"No alarms. No one barking in the building or on the station." Grumbled the eyes and ears of the team.
"Blunt. You ready?"
"Aye Top." Grunted 'Blunt'. Her role was the bagman. Thanks to having her sharp claws removed to allow easy snatching of the target without fear of cutting the target in half, all she had to do was rush in, grab the target and get out.
"I'm there." Cutter hissed, grabbing the device which completed its task without fanfare and latched onto the section of ceiling it had removed to prevent it from moving.
At most, anyone actively looking up, might see a hairline fracture appear as a perfect, large circle, but aside from that and a fine sprinkle of dust; it was a nearly perfect way to get into a location without another noticing. Especially not a canid guard that was bored and behind several walls and a locked door.
"Blunt."
The snatcher with the codename 'Blunt' slipped in, followed by Top, Cutter and finally Tech. The hole was left uncovered, as Cutter immediately crouched to begin cutting a new hole in the floor, to drop down and disappear into the rooms below. Tech was still scanning the various bands by spinning the dials on his hip mounted scanner. It was all in an attempt to locate any sort of detection of four ursidains dropping into an apartment that contained one of the most lucrative subjects to kidnap and sell in the known galaxy.
"Still clear." Tech whispered, knowing this was the most dangerous moment to be found.
"Guys?" Blunt asked, far too loudly, drawing everyone's attention. Both Tech and Cutter looked up to see Top and Blunt both standing perfectly still, frozen in place. The cutting device continued to spin, quietly slicing into the floor of the apartment. The pause wasn't right, Blunt goes and grabs the target, Top gives back up, Tech listens and Cutter secures the exit. They've done this a thousa- Then the other two saw what had stopped the other half of their team.
The snatch team had dropped into the apartment on one side of the apartment, closest to the exit. This normally would allow them to cut off any exit should the target get past the other two. Deeper into the apartment, was the human.
The human was perched on the shoulders of a canid, holding a large white pillow aloft, frozen in the moment just before the brought it down on a second canid, who had their clawed hand up, warding the oncoming blow away. All three were staring at the ursidain team.
The sound of crunching pulled the four ursidain's attention to the right, where from the kitchen, a third canid was using his knuckles to push his head left, then right, the crunching coming from his neck. The fourth canid merely placed a large plate of a delicious smelling disk of foodstuffs. None of the four ursidains knew what the item was, only that it was foreign and looked delicious.
Unfortunately, none of the team would ever try the cheese covered item, as the canid team merely straightened and glowered at the snatcher team. The human was lifted and placed on the floor, where two more canids appeared from the bedroom, took stock of the situation, and used their bodies to push the human further back, now behind two separate lines of canid guards.
Guards that weren't meant to be in the apartment.
"Wrong apartment." Top offered, gesturing with his arms wide. One of the canids tilted their heads and pointed glared at Top's hip, where a selection of wrist straps and canisters hung there, ready to be deployed should the target need putting to sleep.
To the human, the door to his bedroom closed after he was gently ushered in. The door swung closed slowly, gently locking in place as the latch closed. It was closed with such care, that it was as if the canid guard was attempting to close it without waking him, despite him being wide awake and shocked into uncertain apathy to the appearance of four giant space-bears.
Then there was a roaring bark as something shattered behind the door. There was a pained roar before a moment later the whole wall shook as something heavy landed against it.
A grunt, followed by a pained grunt of someone beyond the door rang out before something heavy and wooden, shattered with the sound of a tree being felled.
The bedroom wall shook again, paint and plaster splintering, a spiderweb of cracks appearing as one.
This cacophony of muted violence continued for a few minutes until it went quiet, and the door reopened, the canid guard who had closed it, appearing around the edge of the door.
"Can I see?" Asked the man. The canid sighed and pushed the door open to reveal four downed ursidains and two of the canids sporting busted noses, freely bleeding. The human's apartment was demolished and his painstakingly hand-crafted pizza, destroyed, now a weaved mess in the formerly nice carpet.
"Dang it." He mumbled, gazing down at it.
The ursidain team, still alive but dazed and prone, received an annoyed kick from one of the bleeding canids in retaliation for the human's distress.
When humanity lost their planet, they were first shipped to the Galactic Community ringworld, close to the centre of the galaxy to be registered and welcomed into the GC..
At first, most humans believed that would be their new home once they were granted citizenship. That was quickly dispelled as they were told that ‘no, you can’t stay here’. Most humans thought themselves like the refugees of old; unwanted in places of sanctuary, but nowhere they could go that was safe where they could live a life.
But that wasn’t the case. Quite the opposite in fact.
Humanity *was* desired. More so than they ever dreamed. So much so, that every inhabited world, regardless of race or location, sent a demand to the GC that they would host humanity as a safe haven and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. The GC was looking at the legitimate prospect of galaxy-wide upheavals in both demands and accusations that the ringworld was ‘keeping’ the humans to themselves.
Coupled with the fact that all the humans corralled into one location meant that no one missed ‘the odd one or two’ going missing from the crowd, the GC had compounding problems with kidnapping and potential riots. Thankfully, a solution appeared to them, answering most if not all issues.
They could ensure humanity had protectors and satisfy as many of the requests as possible by deploying ‘The Scattering Initiative’.
Humans would be sent to all corners of the galaxy where a single human could be placed under the watchful eye of whomever was charged with looking after them on the macro level. A single human per planet or station. Coupled with ‘The Guardian Initiative’, with a near army of newly trained individuals whose roles were to ensure the humans were kept safe and healthy on the individual level to be deployed with them or sent to where they ended up.
Problem was, as Tom was discovering, not everyone understood the differences in humanity and the vast differences, both physical and psychological between humanity and the rest of the galaxy.
Tom was in the library, a huge sprawling complex that had its own tram system just to get a patron from one section to another. He’d asked for some sort of book that might help him get a grasp on the history of the galaxy. The hornless male librarian had instantly known what kind of text he was looking for and had described the section, the shelf and the book number he was looking for without having to look anything up on a computer.
Tom made the mental note to ask about implants or the state of subtle augmentations because no way were all librarians that eldritch without some kind of help.
Problem was, now that he was here, stood staring up at the tall shelves that carried hundreds of books, he realised that the one he needed was the bright blue one, far out of his reach.
The man looked down at the shelves and considered climbing them, the wood looking sturdy enough to hold his weight.
Until a shadow descended upon him.
“Staying out of trouble handsome?” Came the melodic tone of Wolshan, the taurian lady who had been assigned to be Tom’s ‘guardian’.
Taurians were large creatures, or at least their women were. In some strange twist, whereas in times before, human men were the protectors and soldiers of humanity, it was the taurian women who filled that role for the aliens.
At a staggering seven or even eight feet tall, the women were huge creatures, usually with muscles to match. Their bovine faces did not detract from the body that made Tom’s eyes linger, perhaps longer than they should. Not that Wolshan cared. It was rather obvious she relished in the fact that Tom enjoyed what he saw.
The taurian stepped forward, her cloven feet ‘clopping’ on the hard floor like stilettos until her body pressed into Tom’s back, forcing him to grab onto the shelve in front of him, least he be shoved against it by the abs of his supposed ‘guardian’.
“This one?” She asked, pointing a clawed finger at the blue spine.
“Yeah.”
“Alright then, grab it.” She ordered before strong hands slipped beneath his arms and effortlessly lifted the grown man up into the air until he was level with the book he wanted.
“You don’t have to.. Eh.. lift me. You could have just grabbed it you know?” The man explained, grabbing the book and sliding it out with a quiet whisper of the hard covers sliding across one another.
He was suddenly pulled into the chest of the taurian as she pressed her lips against his cheek, her massive arms wrapping around his middle while she hugged him to herself.
“Yeah, but you have to do things for yourself and I get to do this. Is that so bad?”
‘No, no it really wasn’t’ Tom thought, be stayed quiet, long enough for a throaty, knowing chuckle to come from Wolshan.
"Why does it look so strange?" Asked the noble, tilting his head one way, then the other.
"I believe it's wider than it should be. I have a summer home that has those buildings in the background there..." A scaled, clawed hand points at the backdrop of the portrait. "The buildings are far thinner in real life. Everything is wider than it should be." Claimed the second noble, another male whose tongue briefly flicked out from between his scaled lips and lapped at the blue liquid in his delicate glass.
The pair of them continued to observe the giant portrait painting of an ursidain general. It was unheard of, and completely novel. A painting! With oils and hand-crafted hues and paints. If one leaned in, and observed the collection from the side, one could even see the uneven strokes and application of the paints against a canvas. The subject didn't matter, the ursidain was practically unheard of, but his commissioned painted was on loan to the ssypno people for a gallery event, featuring a human artist.
His style was unknown, his methods unorthodox to the point of being unheard of outside of ancient texts that describe using chintian fur brushes.
"Wider? I would say this would be the wrong portrait to observe if we are wanting to check if the human's eye adds inches to the subjects girth!" Tittered the noble, gesturing at the rotund ursidain. Unbeknownst to them, the general had been delighted at his portrait and only at the promise he could have another done, did he relinquish possession of his painting.
The two nobles approached another painting, this one of a member of House Sa'vurn. 'The Promised Daughter', one 'Desh Sa'vurn', the people's favourite.
The two nobles joined a third, a female who was coiled directly in front of it.
"Her eyes are rather alive, don't you think?" The noble asked openly, drawing the two male's attention. It was true, Desh's eyes followed them. One of the males felt judged, as if the people's favourite Sa'vurn had found him wanting, whilst the other found them angry, as she were posed to strike him.
"If you observe each of his subjects, they are all observed in one fashion or another, but it is their eyes where he has put in more detail than other artists." The noble observed.
"Why? I would know more of the subject if her body posture made sense. Her shoulders are back, but her tail coiled? Her hood is flared yet not a dot of heat."
"Of course there's no heat, it is an oil painting." The lady sighed, pointing out the obvious. "We are observing what the human sees."
"No heat? Boring." Moaned the judged male.
"Fascinating I say. We are stripped down to our most basic parts. There is no lying when standing in in front of his easel. He ignores or is blind to our attempts to show our heat, to radiate what we want others to perceive." Extrapolated the lady noble, referencing how almost every single ssypno in the gallery was displaying as much heat as they could in their hoods, to show that they were successful and didn't need to conserve their heat. She frowned as she reached out, only to stop herself from touching the canvas.
"I do wonder why do many portions are left so dark?"
"I can answer that my lady." Came a lyrical voice from behind. The trio of ssypno turned at once and met the eye of an esquinine. He didn't flinch, or close one eyes, but met their gazes without fear in turn.
"I have been privy to the human's art from the beginning, he rented my loft when he arrived on our home world." Explained the long-faced empath. "The portions that are dark to you, are actually a sea of different colours, but more in the hues of purples and dark blues. I'm afraid these are colours outside of your visual range."
The trio of large serpants turned back to the art and squinted, as if trying to force their vision to focus and draw forth a colour they'd never seen.
"It is one thing to know one has limited visual colours, it is another to stand before what we know is there and be unable to see it." The female noble lamented.
"Ugh, annoying. Why would he paint a ssypno with colours a ssypno can't see? Insulting."
"He paints for his own enjoyment; it just so happens that others consider this art worth money. Amazing than an artist is more creative when they aren't starving." Noted the esquinine before bowing curtly and leaving the ssypno behind. The esquinine meandered through and over the tails that trailed behind the various gallery patrons before slipping into a side down and strutting down a quiet hallway.
He came to a door, pressed his thumb to the reader then stepped inside.
The human was sat watching the screens.
"How's it going?" He asked, nervously nibbling on a nail. The esquinine stepped over and gently slapped the top of the human's hand, reminding him to stop with the nervous habit.
"Well. They still don't quite 'get' it, but then they are the upper crust. Dry and tasteless." Observed the empath, who turned to watch the screens as a crowd of ssypno tried to force their own world view onto art made by a wholly different species with a very different life to them.
"It's fun seeing ignorance get exposed over and over though..." Considered the esqunine, resting his head against a finger.
"Just because I see the world differently..." Mumbled the human, mildly frustrated.
"Galaxy, and I would be quick to point out they love to remind you, that you are smell blind. I think its rather justified to remind them that they are blind to a whole world of colours, no matter how rich they are." Pointed out the alien with a cold tone to the nobles.
"Body mods are a thing." Supplied the young man, considering how they could choose to have different eyes with their money.
"And admit they aren't perfect? They'd have an ice bath first." Came the esquinine's reply, without missing a beat, taking the human by surprise.
The human grinned and couldn't help but smile at the curt and cutting remarks of his closest ally, cheering him up immediately.
"That was someone's passport!" Shouted Nate, storming into his room, his breath ragged from impotent rage.
"Saah, calm." Urged the fik as he stepped into the human's quarters. A clawed hand found Nate's shoulder and gently drew him into the furred chest of the fik warrior. The human was shaking, adrenaline and anger still pumping through his chest to the point he could feel his heart shuddering, skipping beats.
"Saaaaah..." Murmured the warrior. The fik, Yiktar, was not a medically inclined fik, nor was he a negotiator. He was a warrior, his specialty was causing vicious injuries and threatening uncooperative folk those injuries if they didn't comply with the demands of the clan.
The pair of them had just returned from a trader vessel, one that had taken one look at Nate and produced a tiny booklet with a crest on the front. Inside, a small picture of an unknown human stared back from the protected page.
The trader had immediately demanded a ridiculous price or a trade of more human memorabilia for the booklet.
Nate had to leave, his chest had gotten tight and he'd started to feel lightheaded.
Yiktar ushered the young man to his bed; a giant thing that was more for one or two of the fiks to curl up with Nate in the bed as well than a piece of furniture just for him .
"Hai, breathe Nate, yes?"
Nate nodded and breathed in through his nose, held it, then slowly let it out. He was already calming down, distressed as he was from seeing something so important, relegated to the breast pocket of an ursidain blood sucker.
Nate had to remain calm. His heart just wasn't strong enough to handle prolonged bouts of stress. If it skipped too many beats, then he'd be in even more trouble than just being upset about a passport.
"Saaah, there... Is good. Yes?"
"Yeah, yeah I'm okay Yik. I'm sorry for-"
"Hai! No. No sorry. Nate do nothing, Nate react... normal. Yes? Yes." Yiktar stated, asking himself a question and answering it just as well. Nate merely smiled and a single chuckle worked its way free of his chest.
"Why do you do that?" Asked Nate, smiling up at the fik, despite him crouching at the edge of the bed.
"What? Do what?" The older bipedal rat asked, his nose and whiskers twitching in genuine curiosity.
"Ask yourself a question and answer it?" Pointed out the human, feeling much better already.
"Sah! Simple. If one wants good conversation. One must look for intelligent ones for conversation. Yiktar need not look far, only as far as reflection." Yiktar explained, as if explaining something simple or obvious. Nate couldn't help but laugh, grinning up at the grizzled warrior who merely took on a look of mock hurt.
"Sah! Betrayer! Wounder!" Accused Yiktar with a wide grin, pleased with the fik's ability to distract the fragile human.
That distraction was short lived as the human's quarters opened to let in the clan ermin, a small army obviously filling the corridor outside, hushing one another to allow the ermin to talk.
"Sah, may I enter, young Nate?" Asked the white furred fik, leaning on a staff that she didn't quite need yet.
"Of course, you never need to ask Seer." Replied the human, who had the urge to shuffle off the bed, but the ermin, seemingly knowing what he wanted to do, gestured for him to stay sat down. She crossed the room with ease, sidestepping the coffee table despite having no eyes. Both having been replaced with nasty looking scar tissue years before Nate appeared.
"The clan has something that they wish to return to you." Rumbled the seer, before raising a hand and showing a small booklet, pinched between her claws.
"The passport? How could you-" But Nate's words died on his lips. The crest on the front of the passport, previously gold, was partially covered in red.
The ermin twitched, turned the booklet over, as if observing it, despite the impossibility.
"Ah, saaaah! A mistake, but minor." She mumbled, before wiping the booklet against her own fur. The pure white, went bright red immediately. But as she handed the passport over, it was now clean and no evidence of what had marred it remained. The ermin nodded.
"Back with its rightful owner." She rumbled again, before turning away.
"Not quite, wise one." Nate retorted. "I need to find its owner."
The ermin grimaced, and only turned her head, keeping her back to Nate.
"Saaah... An impossible task. Hai, but not for lack of intent. You would be wiser to honour the former owner, and protect it now. Whether by your hand... Saaah... or one you trust."
Nate flipped the booklet open.
"Joshua Embleton. He's dead, isn't he?"
The clan, still just outside, were perfectly silent. Yiktar, had his head bowed and had been still since the ermin approached. Only the human dare ask such a direct question of the clan ermin. She merely nodded once, before leaving, the clan parting for her like smoke.
The door closed and Nate was alone with Yiktar again. The fik rested a clawed hand against the human's knee and gave it a soft squeeze. The human frowned.
"What happened to the trader?"
"Sah, what trader?" Yiktar asked innocently with a blood thirsty grin.
"Ps, ps, ps." Whispered John at the felinoid stood next to him in the queue. The bored man wanted to test a theory.
The thing that had nearly driven John to madness, was the, in his opinion, fact that 'felinoids', shared an alarming similarity with the 'felines' of Earth.
Most people, including fellow humans, if you pointed out the similarities would give wishy-washy answers. It was obvious! The ears, the whiskers, the tails, the fact that if you got in reach and scratched one under the chin or behind the ears that they would turn to putty in your hands; how could anyone *not* agree that they were basically, bipedal space cats.
Yet when he pointed this out, any of the aliens would just say 'no, we don't see it', whereas humans might blink, look at the felinoid and squint before wiggling their hand and saying 'kinda'. It was infuriating!
How could anyone *not* see how close they were?
The most annoying answer was 'it's just pattern recognition'. It wasn't pattern recognition; their goddamn names were '*felin*-oid'. It's like a single letter off!
But John was normal. He was completely normal about this connection. He had long since taken a breath, run his hands through his hair and accepted that everyone else was an idiot. He, alone, was sane.
But he'd been in this line for well over two hours now, stuck beside this eight foot tall felinoid alien and his mind had asked the question;
'Would 'ps, ps, ps' work on them?'
The second he'd finished making the quiet noise, just loud enough for the alien beside him to hear, he saw their ears swivel in an instant and lock onto him before her head turned and looked down at him. Eyes wide, fully dilated and *furious*.
Gulping in sudden fear, John turned his head forward and was mercifully given an out as he was called up by the counter, allowing him to basically flee the tall alien. She wasn't visibly muscular, but the silky fur could have hidden any body type with ease and these creatures were well known to be athletic at the very least.
Making his way through customs and getting his bag checked and his biometrics scanned, John fled into the station proper.
He deliberately made several turns away from the custom booths and ducked into an alleyway.
John took a breath and laughed, chuckling in near-shock.
He had expected a reaction, but not that.
"You think you can just hide? After you said that to me?!" Growled a voice as the light of the alley dimmed dramatically as someone blocked the entrance, and only exit.
John glanced up at the felinoid who was now rapidly approaching him. He fully flinched as she reached down and grabbed him by his lapels before heaving him against a wall, his feet dangling uselessly as he was pressed into the wall, aloft.
"You don't get to do that and just walk away." She growled, but as John opened his mouth to apologise, her own raced forward and slammed into his, knocking his skull back against the wall.
He got the sensation of a slippery appendage invading his mouth and wrestling his tongue into submission. Her body pressed against his, pinning him in placed while one hand caressed the side of his face and the other began to roam downwards.
John's mind, before checking out, mentally noted that 'ps, ps, ps' worked on felinoids as well.
It was odd to have money. George was used to fighting for every penny then figuring out how to stretch that penny as far as it would go.
There was an old joke from George's home that two of his countrymen were fighting over a penny one day and the pair of them invented copper wire as a result. The shrewd business sense and unwillingness to pay over the odds or for something unneeded flooded through the veins of everyone that came from his area.
Granted, nowadays he didn't know how many of his countrymen yet lived. He suspected it was more than himself, he wasn't the only one rescued from his hometown, but he'd been shuffled and lost track of where they were.
Still, now that George was shockingly well paid for a job that wasn't particularly taxing or highly skilled, his bank account was looking healthier than it ever was before.
"Tell me again, why I have to get a new mattress? Mine *is* new. It's literally brand new, they 'printed' it for me when I bought my furniture." The human male asked.
"Because it's not about having a basic mattress, an Atlas one is important."
"Why?"
"Health reasons."
George blinked up at the tall, muscular adonis that was staring down at him, despite him being well over six feet tall.
The taurian woman who he was speaking with was originally one of the first of the aliens to talk to him like a normal person. Brellin was a hulk of a woman, with a set of horns atop her head that could gore someone quite viciously if she wanted to hurt them. Granted, Brellin was more of a lover than a fighter. They'd been talking about moving in together for the last four months, but she was adamant that she would never stay the night unless they got a specific mattress.
One that wasn't exactly the cheapest option.
"So, your back hurts orrr...?" George probed. If it was that she had a bad back, he wouldn't mind getting the mattress, he had the money, he just abhorred wasting money. She had the body of a body builder, so it wouldn't be a surprise if she had hurt her back by over doing it in the gym.
"Let's say 'yeah' and drop it? I told you from the beginning. I need one of those if I'm staying over." One of her hands came over and caught his chin between a finger and thumb as she stepped forward and lifted his head gently, but without letting him have control.
"I don't mind just coming over for fun, but that's my rule. Get the mattress and we can have fun all night..." She promised, seemingly getting into the role of the seducer. It fine change now that the taurian knew the human was putty in her hands.
That evening, a new Atlas mattress was delivered and placed onto the oversized bed frame of George's home. He dutifully fit the sheets, having a mild fight with them, but ultimately winning.
As he waited for Brellin, he clambered up onto the bed and lay on it.
It didn't feel any different, besides the grooves cut into the mattress itself. It was made from an odd material and the grooves deliberately cut into the material gave the appearance of a diced mango still attached to the rind.
It didn't matter to him for long though, as his front door rang as Brellin arrived.
Several hours later, Brellin was storing up a storm and George could barely feel his legs but couldn't help the contented grin on his face. The taurians were apparently a race of incredible stamina and the fact that sex for them was a rare event, they were beyond the term 'eager'.
It took some mental gymnastics to get over the size difference. An eight-foot-tall body builder that wanted to use her tongue on every inch of him was certainly a change of pace, but George could make that sacrifice to keep her happy.
Still, her warm, finely furred body was incredible, and he wished to never have to stop her pressing it against him.
Unfortunately, he got his wish.
Unbeknownst to him, Brellin, was a hugger.
Completely asleep, satisfied as she was, the giant minotaur rolled over, the mattress barely shaking despite her huge size, and her arms reached out to find her lover. George woke immediately from his dozing when the power clawed hands grabbed his shoulder and bodily dragged him into her body as if he were no more than a pillow.
A heavy body fell atop him, and the air was forced from his lungs, it coming out in a whoosh of air.
Then she was still again, perfectly asleep and dead to the world.
George, however, was pressed firmly in the centre of her chest, her full body weight pressing down on him, crushing him. He couldn't get air, couldn't lift her, couldn't breathe!!
The only movement he could even do, was turn his head, thanks to the deforming nature of the mattress he was being pressed into.
Air!
Sweet, cool air weaved its way between the grooves of the mattress beneath him and the entrapped man sucked it in greedily.
After a few, the man reevaluated his situation.
He was currently trapped beneath his lover. She was beyond strong, far too heavy to move, and it looked as though she was going to be staying still for the foreseeable future. The mattress beneath him had deformed enough that he wasn't being crushed and allowed oxygen to reach him despite what should have been a crushing weight.
Thank god Brellin told him to get this thing before they had actually fallen asleep together...
After a few minutes, the human came to the conclusion that this wasn't the *worst* situation in the world. His view, limited as it was, was incredible. His world for the time being was limited to just Brellin and he could feel her almost covering every square inch of him.
He was 'stuck' here until at least morning, so the young man settled in, enjoyed what he could and rapidly fell asleep listening to the massive heartbeat and steady lungs of his lover.
He was currently sat, with his legs dangling over oblivion, on the very edge of one of the taller buildings in the Settlement Sector.
From this vantage point, he could see from one side of the sector to the other, long ways. From here he could also hear the thrum of the station but also the roar of the distant crowd.
Jayden wasn't one for crowds.
In all honesty he loathed them, but it became necessary to deal with them thanks to living on a station. Sure he could hide at home for long enough, but eventually those four walls began to drive him mad.
Thankfully, a friend had told him about an unguarded stairwell that led to tla quiet rooftop where he could get away from it all.
Tonight was special.
There was a human singer in town and she was just about to come on stage. She was obviously not a novice, as she'd whipped the crowd into a fervour already. They were currently counting down along with the counter on a screen within the stadium.
All of this, Jayden could both hear and see from this vantage point, all without anyone knowing he was here.
Until the sound of a door behind him opening broke the illusion.
A csnid grunted as he lowered himself onto the roof's edge as well.
"Smelt you." He grunted, but offered nothing else.
Jayden fished a packet of stimulants from his top pocket and pulled one out for himself. The canid glanced at the box that sat between them, no words offered. From the space-werewolf's own lap, he played a crate of beers next to the stimulants.
Jayden plucked a beer.
The canid took a smoke.
Neither of them said a word, and both were happier for the silence.
The band began to play in the distance and all was well for a while...
