The air was only growing colder as the night marched on. Mikhail had perhaps gone a little overboard on the sampling, not noticing the alcohol in the cider and doubling up on it with other alcoholic samples. The mixture was.. intense. More than anticipated, and more than enough to knock the Arkanian off his feet. He wanted to make it to the hotel he booked, but quickly found that walking was going to be near impossible. Combined with the difficulty he was having seeing straight, becoming lost was a real possibility.
So there he lay, amongst crate and can. Tucked away in an alley and sprawled on his back, watching snowflakes flutter down from the sky.
This at least was familiar to him. The numb bite of frost a distant feeling, only brining him back to comfort. His home.
The alley produced a quiet, melancholic tone as the Arkanian sang. What rose from his lips, a haunting melody of war, loss, and wasted love.
The night sang to him.
Rue’s head turned down, the crick in it not noticed, turning his face away from the bare face of his Lady in the sky. She was different here, and so were all Her children. Different here, and on the Selen, and on the stations Hunyi had taken them through. Sometimes, he couldn’t see Her at all, even though he could actually see the sky. No walls and ceiling to shut him in.
But he knew She was always there, just as he always had.
The song that reached his sensitive ears and horns now was not the ruffle of leaves or cacophony of so many people, so free, in one enormous space. Not the great and terrible loudness of the sky ships or machines. Someone was singing.
It was so very late. And very cold. And ash was falling from the gathering clouds. Most of the people had gone. Who was still out?
Were they safe and warm?
“Just a minute, Alk,” he told the sleepy mott trotting along beside him, wrapped in Rue’s cloak, edges trailing on the ground. He clicked a small follow command of Shiirywook to the litlun and then hurried his pace to follow the sound. He scuttled from shadow to shadow, hurrying.
It took him to an alley, and there he beheld a body sprawled on the stones. With a surge of alarm he rushed closer, dropping to his knees and reaching to check for a pulse.
The Moon was eclipsed.
Mikhail’s singing stopped, as he felt fingers against his throat, searching for a pulse. He sat upright, then teetered over with a quiet slurred sentence in Arkanian. He landed on an elbow, halfway propped up, allowing him to get a better view of the man above him. The light reflecting off his hair, the horns and small bits of scales. He knew this man - he thinks.
“Y-… you’re…” he blinks and squints, glasses sitting on his face skewed. They revealed the gently glowing blue crystal eyes that stared back up at the man. “Mmmyy fffine. Alullright.”
No sooner had his finger pads found a flutter of a heartbeat below frightfully cold skin than was the figure – a man – sitting up. Gold eyes met radiant blue, a familiar-now crystalline glitter, for just a moment.
Then Rue shrank back, realizing his mistake, though his concern lingered like a weight around his neck. It inversely had him lifting his eyes after dropping them initially, peering up at that fair face while he stooped to the frozen flagstones in a bow.
“Sorry, sorry, this one is sorry, Master,” the words tripped out quickly at each other’s heels, whether shaken from a stutter or from shivering not entirely clear. “This one did not intend to disturb you, and was only concerned for your well-being.”
Though his gaze flinched downwards again midway through his sentences, he still dared again to look back, bald worry in his features like an open vein.
“Is…is the Master…alright? It is …q-quite cold.”
Mikhail’s head occasionally lolled to one side or the other, as if he was on a ship that was listing back and forth on the waves. He tried to raise an arm to wave the other man off but his palm mostly flatly met his shoulder, patting him gently. “D.. don’t cllal me mmmastor..” He then tried to move again, using Rue’s shoulder to try and shift. He slips, and sprawls back down onto the ground. This time he didn’t try to get up, staying there with a huff.
“Cold is.. my natral home. Where immfrom. This toohaat” He squirmed on the ground a bit, curling up a bit while peering up past skewed glasses at the man. “Whyyyouere?.. how?”
Rue’s muscles flinched at the touch even as he made himself stay in place for the punishment, whatever it would be. However, the Master’s hand didn’t continue to fall in beating; rather the man just sort of fell over himself.
Don’t call him master?
But. But he had to.
But no, Hunyi and Kerissa said…asked…
“Yes, sir,” he murmured instead, peeking up at a huff that seemed frustrated and defeated both. For all the man claimed the cold to be his home, he did not seem particularly comfortable on the ground, with how he wriggled. The rest, Rue couldn’t make out from the surely feverish slur.
Hesitating only a little longer, the hybrid swallowed and leaned in again, determination steadying his trembling movements. He had a patient who obviously wasn’t well. Slurred speech, loss of motor neuron control, confusion. He reached forward and pressed the back of his sole hand to forehead, then both cheeks, then the neck, testing for temperature even though it was difficult to discern in the cold. He peered at the man’s eyes, searching for pupils to diagnose by, but finding only unbroken pools of enchanting blue.
He tsk‘d softly to himself. Hardly the first set of such eye variations he had seen, but it did make more difficult. He cupped the man’s face and then slid his fingers down jaw and throat, going back to the pulse point to count properly, waiting. His braid fell out from under his shirts as he moved about, brushing across the man’s chest.
“Alk, here,” he called a soft Wookiee order once he had his answer. The mott grumbled and came, and Rue pulled his cloak off and debated how best to wrap up the sick man. At least the fabric was warm. “Sir, it will be alright, this o– I will take care of you.”
Goosebumps rose across the Arkanians exposed skin as the man traces lines down his throat, his breath catching for a moment as his eyebrows furrow. He watched the hair sway and move, shimmering like a more colorful display of northern lights in the air above his chest.
One of Mikhail’s hands subconsciously wrapped around Rue’s wrist, trembling but gently holding his hand to the side of his face. His pulse increased slightly - but from the cold and drunkenness it was already slow - so it evened out. “T… take?”
Rue observed the prickling of skin and the way the man’s gaze followed him, noting them as good signs of responsiveness despite the evident delirium. It was so strange; he was displaying only some signs similar to deep fever, and was otherwise alert enough. Perhaps it was not fever, but a mixture of approaching hypothermia and concussion? He had been on the ground, what if he had fallen?
Rue’s hand, held to the man’s cheek, gently dislodged, using his tail to wrap around the other’s wrist and draw it carefully back. With it free, he slid his touch up into dark hair, feeling out around the scalp for any bumps or cuts and prodding gently, watching for any show of pain.
“Forgive this one, sir, I need to listen to your lungs,” he murmured when finding none, and ducked forward, pressing his ear to chest.
Mikhail’s eyes were torn away from the man’s face, now focused on the tail that moved his wrist. He didn’t resist it, but instead watched in bewilderment as the man then proceeded to run his fingers through the Arkanian’s hair.
A shiver ran through him. Perhaps finally noticing the cold in comparison to the warm hand in his hair? He swallowed and tried to say something as Rue leaned down, pressing his horned head against his chest. words jumbled and fell out of his mouth before the misfiring gears in his drunken head finally caught, if only for a moment. “Wha.. Mmbreathing fine. Jus… you…re. Warm? Toushingme?”
Indeed, the man was breathing regularly, despite a hitch there when he spoke, and a slight uptick in heartrate that was otherwise mildly slower. Rue frowned in confusion as he sat back up.
“I don’t understand…” he mumbled in the barest allowance of frustration, then released it with a sigh. That was fine. More often than not, he couldn’t have said why they died, their tiny bodies giving out, whole systems collapsing in hours or days, organs liquifying internally, suchlike. It just was. And if he could heal it, he would.
And if he couldn’t, he would sing. Hold them, and sing.
“Just once more,” Rue assured in the softest of tones, reaching again to cup the man’s cheek. “Then messir will not suffer this one’s grossness again, apologies. Just a moment more.”
So said, golden eyes fell closed, powdery white flakes falling a little heavier now, sticking to his multicolored lashes and hair, the tip of his tail where the fur fell away from the wrist it held.
Moon Mother, he thought. My Lady, I beseech thee. Allow me to heal this man.
Focused, he felt Her power flowing through him, a silvery pale, distant warmth, spun starlight. It flowed from him and to the man, easing whatever poison in his blood sapped his strength and speech, filling him with life anew.
And as always, Rue felt it leaving him in turn. He sagged, briefly, head falling to rest on the man’s shoulder as his arm went limp and slid free, his body lapsing a moment while darkness blotted at the edges of awareness like blood rushing to the head. That was fine. It would pass. Or he would. Or the man would.
That was how it went.
“Thank you, Goddess…” he remembered to whisper, grateful as he tried to push himself back up off his patient. He kept his gaze fixed down, already wan shoulders stooping again. “Apologies, sir. H-how are you, now? Do you feel better? I can heal further if the ma– sir, wishes.”
Mikhail takes in a long, frigid breath as he feels energy returning to him. His mental fog clearing in an almost dizzying way. He clutched the man that lent down into him as if he was holding onto a rock to avoid being swept away by this new current of energy. He was puzzled, perplexed, dumbfounded, and cold. So he held Rue for a few moments, giving him support in return while he gathered his strength.
He waited until rue sat back up, near reluctantly releasing his hold while staring at him with wide blue eyes. “How… how did you..? What did you do? How is that possible?” He felt a torrent of emotions rip through his gut, rising mostly as butterflies and anxiety. Was he dreaming? No, the snow was too sharp against his skin. What then was this wandering saint repaying his debts? “I… I do not need more. I… thank you.” Words were quickly failing him, and a pink hue set into his cheeks, ear, and bridge of the nose.
Thank you.
Those words were still a branding iron, overwhelming in their warmth he surely did not deserve, no more from Kerissa than this man. Rue dipped his head further, a seating bob of a bow, his loose hair falling in his face.
“This one thanks you, Ma– sir. For the food, and care. This one was blessed by it indeed. If sir feels better, then this one – then I, I-I am glad.” Gold eyes peeked up, barely, finding pink touching pale skin that made blue eyes all the brighter. “A-apologies, sir asked this one questions. This– I healed you. The Goddess blesses this one with the light of Her power. I pray to Her, and She allows me to do some things. Heal, o-or…others.”
He trailed off nervously. The masters had rarely asked him such things, and he did not want to speak out of turn.
Food? Mikhail racked his brain, trying to think back to when he first met the man. Nearly dead on his table. Had he ordered him food after that ordeal? The spinning thoughts in his head wouldn’t let him focus though. Instead he reached up towards the man, hand hesitating for a moment, trembling before it brushed the loose hair strand out of Rue’s face.
A saint then. It must be so. But why? How?
“You are… incredible.” The only words he could muster as his fingertip gently slipped from the man’s cheek. Rational thought was failing the Arkanian, as if he was still short circuiting. He shook his head softly, then looked around at where he was. Quite Literally the floor of an alley.
He shuddered. This time from the cold and the disgust of writhing on the ground in such a place moments earlier. How did he get here? His head still spun at a low speed, though wether it was the alcohol or the sheer presence of the saint before him, he did not know. “We… should get inside. Somewhere warm.”
The mast– the man reached out, and again, Rue awaited the backhand that would come, or a grip of fracturing force, or the bite of nails.
But none came. Only a brush of a single finger, tucking his hair back behind the swoop of his ear. Not fisting in it and pulling until bloody clumps came loose or his head turned. Not even a chastisement of cutting off the ear for not listening well enough. Just…that. A simple brush. That gentle gesture had a shiver wracking his body.
You are incredible.
For some reason, his face heated, so quickly it made his eyes squinch shut. He opened them again, mindful of neither meeting the man’s stare too long nor seeming not to be at attention, resting his gaze proper and neutral near where their knees nearly touched.
“I– y-yesssir, t-that is a most brilliant idea, sir. Warmth w-would be good for the mast– for you. I d-do not know exactly what ailed you, and t-though it is cured, best to n-not add hypothermia to the infractions.”
Even as he spoke, he tried to hug himself, half-limb tucking tight to his body, single hand clasping his other shoulder, the two shirts and pants, repaired from his mistaken incident on the Oval, not providing much. Alk came trotting up and pressed to his side, snuffling in the man’s direction. He gave a friendly bleat, obviously smelling both Rue and himself on the cloak the hybrid had wrapped around the man.
Though the man’s heated face cause his own to continue reddening, he was focused on the sheer lack of heat coming from the rest of his body. “You.. yes. We need to get us warm.”
He shifted upwards, then scanned the alley for his cane. He spotted it, once leaning against a bin, now laying under a thin layer of snow. He leaned over to grab it, gently brushing the metal grip off, ensuring the avian like head bore no dents or scratches before he began to stand fully.
He offered a hand down to Rue, using the cane as leverage to help lift him. “Come, святой, I know a place nearby. We can warm and relax.”
“Yessir,” Rue said at once, soft and rote. Obediently, he went with the gesture to take his hand and leveraged himself up, keeping his head bowed and shoulder bent, his tail retracting to coil tightly around his leg in brewing anxiety.
He bit his lip, budding with blood.
“I–” his voice cracked with nerves, and he closed his eyes, knowing what would come, but that was fine, “I h-have to tell Mistre– Miss Hunyi w-where I am going. This one cannot stay. S-sir. But but, this– I would s-see you to safety and getting warm. Please.”
The last was a whisper, a flinch in and of itself.
Mikhail studied the man’s odd behavior’s, noting them away. Was it because he was used to Hiding? Why did he use Master and Mistress?
Something about this man was broken. That much was obvious to the Arkanian. It disturbed him, this man obviously only meant to help. What broken wing did he harbor?
“yes.. Come, follow me. There is a hotel not far from here. ” Mikhail led the man out of the alley, being sure to keep him at his arm so as not to loose him. As the wind and snow picked up, he closed the distance between them, huddling closer for both their sakes.
Fear caused a sick churn in his stomach, and his tail clenched even harder, making the needle feeling in his foot. Nonetheless Rue went without any fuss whatsoever, obeying the man’s directions and holding as still as possible while still walking when he drew closer and put a hand on his arm, the other on the cane. Alk followed right alongside him on the other side as they went, making unhappy noises about the growing cold and wind.
The ash was getting so thick now. But he didn’t smell the burning, and he would have, to make this much of the ash. Nor did he see the glow of an incinerator or pyre. And the specks, when they hit his exposed skin, were wet. They melted. He could watch it happen on the man’s crystallized cheek.
Not long ago, even with the utmost curiosity, he never would have dared to voice his question. But Hunyi and Kerissa had encouraged him to ask things, and the man had been kindly so far, with his gentle touch to the hair and feeding him outside of a daily meal time. He had said thank you for the healing.
Did that mean…it was alright?
Fraught with the decision, he was hopelessly lost when he looked back to the roads growing whiter and whiter with the mysterious melting wet ash. How would he tell Hunyi where he was if he did not know? He’d upset her again. And with Alk. To get Alk lost was unforgivable! A sin. He was a child.
The trembling redoubled, shivers as much as fretful worry. He had to find some landmark, something, to give the Wookiee. He had to do what she said. But he also had to do what the man said, and the man had said to come with him…
- A whimper escaped the hybrid, and immediate horror followed, his arm jerking so he could clap his remaining hand over his mouth, as if doing so would undo what he’d just done. But the man was holding it, and so he just tugged at the man, and that was awful too, that was punishment–
“This one is sorry!” Rue cried, dropping immediately to his knees on the flagstones again and feeling them soak with frigid wetness. He bowed his head, arm twisted up to stay in the Master’s hold. “Apologies, apologies, this one did not mean to make a sound, it promises, it will be silent.”
The cane was tucked under an arm, and the grip on Rue’s raised remained steady pulling it towards Mikhail’s chest. His other hand, now free, reached down to gently cup this Wounded Saint’s cheek. He lifts Rue’s face up towards him, bright crystal eyes full of concern and worry. He spoke softly, bending down slightly so his words were more easily heard.
“Do not dare allow yourself to be silenced. Whatever happened to you.. I do not know. But you are safe with me, I will ensure it. Speak your mind freely, do not hold your tongue. Anything you want, I will listen.” He tried then, though eyes were glistening with the swell of emotion, to lift the larger man to his feet.
Rue couldn’t discern if he was being reprimanded or blessed. The initial words of an order were familiar, do not dare, but the rest was…foreign. They were the sorts of sentiments Hunyi and Kerissa said, though usually with more frustration.
Safe with him?
Anything he wanted?
He didn’t know how to want. That was what made Hunyi and Miss Kerissa growl and grumble so much. They just wanted him to want things. But that wasn’t. That wasn’t for one such as himself. He didn’t know. He didn’t know how.
The touch was still gentle, cradling his cheek, and again, again, the pain he expected didn’t follow or precede it. It just was this. He didn’t know what to do with that. This man didn’t touch him like Jan did, or any of the Masters or Mistresses. There was an overflowing of emotion in the azure pools of his eyes, peeking over those black squares, and it made Rue’s spine tingle. The man seemed upset. He needed to comfort. Do something.
What did he want? For him to…speak his mind?
Surely he could do that much.
As the man pulled him up, the hybrid went easily, pliant to any gesture or command. The man would find him quite light despite his taller, even stooped, stature. Rue tried to look back at him, as the man had turned his face to meet his, but it was difficult to hold gazes when he was so good at doing anything but. His golden eyes hovered to a point on the man’s shoulder instead.
“This one–I.” He worked his jaw, brows furrowing, cringing slightly. But no, this was what the man wanted. That meant this was the right thing to do. He could be good at this. He would do better. “I-I don’t. Understand. The ash.” He nodded, barely, towards the ground. “It’s. It’s melting? And it is cold, and wet, and this one cannot smell the fire, and– I am. Confused. Lost. Sir.”
His tone went very small at the end.
Mikhail’s hand slipped from the man’s cheek, finding the arm that he still held. He took Rue’s hand in his, holding it while the question was asked. It.. perplexed him. That someone wouldn’t know what snow was.
“It is.. Snow. Minute droplets of water that have frozen in the atmosphere, the air, before it met the ground as liquid rain.” He swallowed, gently squeezing his hand as he continued. “Each one, a unique shape of fractal crystalline design. No two flakes of snow are alike. As numerous as the stars above.”
He took a slow step backwards, limping before he finally released Rue to place the cane back into the ground. “I will show you under a microscope, the beauty that they hold within.”
Fascination lit the hybrid’s expression, understanding clearing in his gold eyes as he finally met the man’s gaze in dawning excitement, a balm to how disoriented the atmosphere made him. “This is snow?” Coiled around his ankle, the tip of his tail flicked a bit, a flash of metallic sunset in the twinkling lights left strung up still. “Oh. Oh. Grandmother told me of snow. Goddess, Mother…fractal crystalline designs? Oh, like your crystal! They look like that up close? Then they must be very beautiful.”
He had never used a microscope before, but the Masters had had them. Having been released by the man, he started to take a step, then hesitated, arm curling towards his chest shyly, hand to his breast. He looked back to Mikhail, noticing the limp and lean in the cane.
“I…may this one…touch it?” he asked, glancing back at the piles now forming. Alk was stomping in them, like he had the ocean, and trying to bite at falling flakes. He rushed to add, “I will not be long, Sir, just a touch, this one promises. You are right that we ought to hurry to warm you, before the cold worsens your leg.”
It was Mikhail’s turn to recoil at his words, turning his face away that twisted in a strange expression of grief. His hand, balled in a fist, pressed against his chest as if to stem some internal pain that ached his heart. They must be Very Beautiful
He swallowed a noise that almost escaped his throat, withholding from holding his crystal scar that marred his reddening cheek. “Yes, of course. Have fun with it, like your friend.”
Rue might have begun to perk, if he hadn’t seen the man flinch and clutch at his chest. Immediate alarm rose in the hybrid, and he took two quick steps close again, reaching out to grasp under his left arm, his tail uncoiling to wrap around the waist, trying to brace the man despite his single hand.
“Sir? Sir, are you alright? Is it your heart? Do you feel pains shooting down your arm? Goddess.” What had he missed? He still didn’t know what had been wrong with the man in the first place!
“No, no I am fine I am just..” he faced down, towards the snow. A single tear slipped from his eye and streaked down his cheek before falling to the snow below. He quickly wiped the cold trail it left away before raising his head and sniffing back anymore. “I.. the crystal is… a scar. Disfigurement. I was not.. ready.”
He leaned into the grasp on his arm for a moment before pushing off gently “please, go touch the snow, experience it. Have fun. I will be fine.”
Hearing those soft sniffles drew a different sort of concern entirely. He let the man go, but his explanation had Rue’s shimmering brows creasing. The hybrid hesitated, naturally stepping back to obey the command, before he chose disobedience and any punishment that came with it.
He reached out again, cupping that face over the ‘scar’ and using his thumb to wipe again at where the tear streak had been.
“This o– I…have some of those too,” he murmured, ducking to meet those infinite eyes, tones infinitely kind. “If you are ever ready, then I would hope to tell you that it makes you no less beautiful. I am sorry if it hurt. I could attempt to heal it again? Perhaps the Goddess will grant Her blessings. We are under Her sight.”
He looked up, indicating moons and stars that were disappearing behind clouds. Oh.
Oh.
His eyes widened as he watched the snow fall.
“Oh…it comes from there…” Rue whispered to himself, unconscious, before looking back to the man. Alk romped around them.
A shudder passed through the Arkanian, who lifted a hand to touch the one resting on his cheek. The crystal felt warm, as pliable as flesh. It tingled slightly when touched, as if it carried a weak charge. His thumb brushed over Rues knuckles, eyes focused up at the man while his words sucked the air from his lungs.
And then, as if ever new to the world around him, he was lost momentarily in the wonderment of the clouds above. It hurt. The innocence of this Saint.
“I… i… do not r-require more healing. It is.. as recovered as it will be.” He stuttered, head tilted into that touch. Part of him wanted to recoil from it and continue, but whatever effects of the cured drunkenness remained bid him stay still and close to the man. The thoughts and emotions swirled in him, continuously keeping knocked off his feet in his understanding of what was happening. Was he truly conscious? Was this a dream?
A sad expression came over the hybrid’s inflorescent features. “Ah. A wound of that kind. I am much familiar.” He lingered as the man still held his hand there to his cheek, but retracted his tail with haste to curl back around his leg. A half step back gave him room to dip his head, withdrawing to more respectful pose and distance than his worry had spurred to action. “This one apologizes, Sir, for its gross assumptions and contact upon Sir’s person. This one only feared for Sir’s heart. This– I do not know what ailed you. It seemed partial of a fever malaise, yet alike a concussion, and missing aspects of both.”
The breeze picked up suddenly, more a gust than the strong wind it had been, swirling snow that was falling heavily now. So much so that the streets behind them were like peering through a sheet.
Apparently done exploring, Alk butted up to him, nosing with his tiny horn, bleating. Rue glanced about, shoulders hunching.
“I-is this normal for s-snow?”
It’s ok, you can touch me
The words couldn’t leave the Arkanian’s mouth, even in the strange state he was in. He would have to consider why he felt the urge to say them later. Or perhaps, forget that he did entirely. If he could.
His hand gently lowered, releasing Rue’s hand to adjust his jacket and to finally notice the extra cloak draped around him.
This Saint…
He looked at him, studying his figure or that which he could see in the snow. He needed to get him warm fast. “It’s not. This is a snowstorm. Or Blizzard. They can be deadly. We need to keep moving, make sure your friend stays close, alright? When we get there, you can use my room to warm up. A hot shower should do us good, agreed?”
Mikhail then gently grabbed Rue by the hand again, leading him into the gust of wind and biting snow. It was just a block or two away, but they had both been out for a while. Luckily, Arkanian’s were made for this sort of weather.
Noting this new information and its urgency, Rue dipped his head, murmuring, “Yessir,” to the command as the man ushered them on. He used his tail to make sure to keep Alk close, growling a throaty, “Come, Alk, follow,” in what little Shiirywook he knew.
It was surprisingly hard to walk against strong winds. He had never experienced the like. And the cold was very bitter, biting to the bones, even colder than what he was accustomed to. And the snow soaked the clothes, which made the cold worse, and each step heavier.
Eventually, though, the man seemed to find his way. Rue followed him obediently towards a building. This ‘hotel?’
Finally, they burst into a hotel. The wind chased them into the lobby, carrying cold and snow that scattered across the ground before Mikhail was able to wedge his shoulder against the door and force it shut. He stayed there for a moment, leaning against the door before he pushed away, still holding Rue’s hand. He lead them deeper into the lobby, which was full of people. Were they trying to get out of the snow?
It wasn’t until the two pushed into the crowd that Mikhail noticed the screens of com pads and holos around the room blinking with an emergency broadcast. He winced slightly, familiar with the type from his home.
It was too loud in here to talk, so Mikhail stayed silent and continued on. He pushed past groups of people until he reached the hallway that lead to an elevator, which was also packed with people sitting against walls.
Mikhail stepped past them as well until they were both in the elevator. Silence fell over them as the doors closed. The hum of the machinery lifting them replaced it. In the metal doors of the lift, Mikhail finally caught both of their reflections. His hair was a mess, the man’s cloak sat askew and loose on him, far too big. And they still held hands.
A twinge of something inside the Arkanian wanted to make him release his grip, but he still held on. He swallowed, soaking in the silence before speaking finally. “My.. name is Mikhail.”
The hybrid’s reflection was quite the state as well. His clothes were soaked and clung to him, and his scarf-turned-hood had fallen down far earlier. Under the interior lighting and with the mirrored walls, his hair shone, metallic strands reflecting the light back and then the mirrors bouncing and breaking it, throwing glints of a hundred different violets, scarlets, and golds across everyone in the elevator. The starved hollows of his cheeks, neck, and bit of exposed collarbones in his ill-fit shirt were dark, sharp shadows against the pale lilac highlights of his bones where skin clung greedily. The small scales on his face had a duller shimmer than his hair.
And he looked absolutely terrified.
Between all the people, the tight confines, and then– a bewildering look in that reflective surface, barely able to comprehend it, horrified of it. Horrified by how bright and garish and exposed he was, yet still packed tight, with so many.
Unconsciously, his grip on the man’s hand had clenched, showing knuckles bleach white that were already so thin and knobbled. He was shaking, and not with cold, practically trying to squeeze behind the man as if to hide behind him or press himself into the wall altogether. Alk, much to the displeasure of the other passengers, bayed in distress, crowding nearer to Rue as if trying to protect him.
The words were the only thing he had. A Master telling him something. He could listen to that. Couldn’t he?
A name.
“M-m-mikhail,” he stuttered, voice small and afraid, nearly ducking into the man’s shoulder like a frightened animal. “Sir.”
Hunyi and Kerissa talked about this, he could remember distantly. Even further back, grandmother. Names. Not just barcodes.
The whisper was buried into cloak and crystal neck.
“ₜₕ₋ₜ₋ᵢₛ ₒₙₑ ᵢ₋ᵢₛ ᵣ₋ᵣᵤₑ.”
Mikhail turned to face him, gently squeezing his hand in return. He carefully wedged himself between the others and Rue, shielding him from the pressure of others. He stands on his tiptoes, in an attempt to grant more cover. He remained silent, as the lift stopped at a few floors. He waited until they were alone to whisper “Rue.. You have beautiful hair, Rue.”
He then took a step back, allowing him room to breath while his hand was still held prisoner, not that he minded. He gently cleared his throat, and when the door opened to his floor, he gently pulled Rue out after him. It was another quiet walk down the hall to his door, and the Arkanian couldn’t help but repeatedly glance up at the man, as if ensuring he was still there.
Mikhail’s actions seemed to help the hybrid, leaving him to hunch down and blatantly hide behind the man. Once the compartment cleared, he still seemed disinclined to pull away from the wall, or from Mikhail, and he flinched minutely at the compliment, arm lifting slightly as if to reach up and touch or hide it, but lacking the lower half of the limb to do so. So he just drew into himself tighter, save for the death grip on Mikhail’s hand.
Alk trotted along after them, sniffing at the carpet and lipping at it, disappointed when Rue regained enough presence of mind to shoo him from eating it.
“No, chrysanthemum, that’s not grass,” he hushed, sniffling. His nose was running now from the warmer interior, his shivering had redoubled to shakes for the same reason, and his face was flushing with it. He looked to Mikhail when they stopped, evidently unsure what to do.
“Sir?” he whispered, gaze dropping then.
He gave Rue’s hand one more squeeze, rested his cane against the doorframe so he could scan a card and unlock the door. He pushes inside, taking a deep breath. The air was warm, and smelled exactly like one would expect a hotel room to smell like. There was only one bed, a desk covered in tools and vials ready to be used, The chair in the corner was covered in bags and other tools. But he did not spend time there, instead he pushed into yet another door, into a decorative bathroom. He set his cane down on the counter, then promptly stripped the cloak that was drenched in melting snow off, hanging it on the wall.
“OK.. you should take everything wet off, and hang it up. I’ll get you something warm and dry” As he spoke he walked over to the shower, preemptively turning it on for him and making sure the water would be warm, but not burning hot for someone who was just out in the cold for too long. “Do you.. have any requests or questions?” He stood there awkwardly, looking up at Rue with his arms slowly slipping behind his back to hold a professional stance.
As soon as the initial command had left Mikhail’s mouth, Rue was complying. He stripped with an alacritous efficiency regained through the years of great practice, easily using teeth and tail and twisting tricks to accommodate for his other arm. By the time Mikhail was turning around again and taking his stance, the hybrid was already nude, kneeling on the tiled floor, head bowed and waiting, tail tight to his now-bare leg again. With his head bent, his loosened hair fell over one shoulder, and the overhead lights shone on the strands and the silvery scars of numbers impressed on the back of his neck.
The question seemed to give him pause, but only a second, as he quickly asked, “What does Sir Mikhail wish this one to do?”
Mikhail Froze.
He was no stranger to nudity, but something about this felt.. different.
His mind emptied for a moment, heat raised a red hue to his ear, nose and cheeks. He tore his gaze away, bright crystal eyes wide open as he stared a hole into the wall. Words started falling out of his mouth as he tried to regain composure.
“W- want you.. uh.. should shower, get.. hot - warm up.” He blinked, stunned by his utter lack of functioning braincells. He swallowed and stepped away, past Rue and towards the door. He pushed out into the room, eyes flicking back to Rue for a moment before sticking to the ground between them. “Get.. warm. And clean. I’ll.. find you something to wear.” He shuts the door most of the way, leaving it open just a crack incase Rue needed something,
The hybrid’s brows furrowed in mild confusion. Leaving was unexpected. But Mikhail wanted him clean first; that much made sense. He was surely disgusting.
Then would there finally be the bending and breaking? He had called his hair beautiful. Surely that meant some ripping of it too, pinning by it.
Yes, that made sense.
Obediently Rue wasted no more of the Sir’s time and scrambled into the shower. He still was not used to these, warm and with such soft and smelling soaps. Hunyi had been upset the first time when he’d asked her in confusion where the hoses were, and had had to explain how he bathed himself in these very soft very warm waters.
The hybrid was quick, and left the curtain open, the feeling of a screen too foreign for this process. Once he was done he got back out, dripping, and then, recalling the orders to make sure he had fulfilled them, elected to kneel again and await Mikhail.
Mikhail heard the shower turn off as he returned to the room. After briefly letting his heart rate calm down, he had slipped out to collect a few things for Rue.
After Rue had not exited, something He had prepared for by deliberately facing away from the door, he stood up and appraoched it to gently knock. “Is everything ok? Are you finished?” He spoke through the crack, hand hand covering his eyes
“This one is finished, Sir,” Rue answered softly, holding his pose. “It is cleaned. What does Sir command now?”
His shoulders relaxed slightly, hearing the voice. “May I come in? I have something for you to wear while you warm and your clothes dry.”
He didn’t understand why that sounded like a question.
“Sir may do as sir wishes…”
Mikhail slowly pushed into the room, eyes still shut. He slowly steps closer, unfolding the robe that he had grabbed a minute ago. “Turn around, please.”
That was finally familair. If dizzingly polite. Still, here it was.
The hybrid rotated around quickly, then bent further, stretching out into a kowtow, face pressed to the tiles, shoulders down, back and rear exposed. He fit his hand up against his mouth, ready to bite down so he would be perfectly silent through the process no matter how much it hurt. Pain just was. It would be fine. He would be good.
“Yessir,” he whispered when ready, voice cracking though he meant it to be steady. He didn’t mean to be shaking, either.
Mikhail peaked out from a heavy squint, before squeezing his eyes shut. Once more heat rose to his face, but this time his mind was.. Somewhat.. prepared. At least enough that his mind was not immediately emptied by what he saw.
Instead it was filled with a gut churning thought, as pieces of the puzzle fit together. This wasn’t a wandering Saint, at least not.. only a wandering Saint. This man must have been a slave, or some similar servant, based on how he acted. The realization twinged inside him like a form of rot. His grip tightened on the white robe, a few knuckles cracking as he grit his teeth.
With a shaky voice, he rasped out a small “Rue.. please stand up. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never.”
Rue’s eyes widened in surprise, and then his brows furrowed yet again in confusion. So much was confusing.
Nonetheless he obediently stood, tail wrapping around his leg and arm daring to lower enough to hug himself slightly, since the man alleged there would be no hurts now. Wet as he was, he was cold.
Mikhail had said to speak his mind…
“This one– I don’t… understand,” he murmured slowly, trembling still. “Please, Sir. M-m-mikhail. What did I do wrong? How can this one please?”
Mikhail approached, an eye cracked open again so he could she what he was doing. His warm hands met Rue’s back, and carefully slid upwards until they reached above his own head so he could drape the Robe over his shoulders. The material was plush, soft, and freshly warmed in a dryer.
The arkanian gently traced his hands down Rue’s arms, gently escorting them into the sleeves from behind. He then carefully wrapped the robe around Rue’s front, tying it closed. His arms remained there for a moment, and though Rue was already enveloped in a warm hug from the robe, Mikhail gently closed his arms around him in another gentle embrace. “You have done nothing wrong. You do not need to please me, nor anyone else. This world you came from, whatever suffering you’ve endured, it is not normal.” His voice spoke softly into the fabric at Rue’s back.
The hybrid flinched minutely at the touch, and then gave a small gasp as something was draped over him, and his arms were worked into it, much like when the Masters or Mistresses would dress him after examinations. But this was not the clothing he knew as true, the thin, loose white garments, sleeveless and short pants at the knee, sterile and stiff. It wasn’t even like the clothes Hunyi had gotten him, which felt so different, and covered so much, and could be layered atop one another. They were sturdy and interesting, smooth and scratchy and soft in turns.
But this was…
And. A. Hug?
Why?
What. Why? What were they? If. If he wasn’t supposed to please him, and follow orders, but said he wasn’t a master, but had fed him food…
He didn’t understand.
Hot wet streaks dripped down his cheeks. He hiccuped, hopelessly lost, and found his hand gripping the sleeve that was… Thick and warm and soft and plush? What was this? It was so nice.
And. The hug. Was nice?
Not normal?
Then what was? Hunyi and Kerissa talked about so many things, but …
Well, Miss Kerissa was special. Not just a Mistress, but his friend, his little girl. Grown now. And Hunyi was a friend.
Did this mean Mikhail was a friend?
He hiccuped again, tucking his face more into the soft thick collar and marveling at the texture to rub his cheek against.
“I’m so very confused,” he whispered back. His voice cracked. Mikhail was still at his back, and his body knew that meant something else.
Painbreakingtearingburning–
The arkanian did what he could to suppress his own teary eyes, already was the dark coloring around his eyelids smeared and started to streak. He was Very careful not to mark the dark cream robe. His arms lowered, releasing the embrace after a few moments, allowing him to circle in front of the man. Bright blue eyes gazed up at him, taking in the sheer confusion, discomfort, agony that the man felt.
He wanted to take it, all of it, into himself and off of the man before him. He reached up, soft hand against tear stained cheek. “It’s ok.. You don’t need to understand everything. It must be.. so very overwhelming…” His thumb swiped under Rue’s eye, clearing the tear there.
“Lets go out to the room, you can rest on the bed and warm.” He nodded towards the door, sniffling so the lingering water in her eye didn’t fall
Rue’s gold eyes were wide and shining, a shimmer in them the tears brought out, like his hair and scales – and even, Mikhail had seen firsthand, his blood. He whimpered at the touch to his cheek, red staining over his features, body shrinking in, visibly overwhelmed by such soft contact.
Unable to speak, the hybrid just nodded, lowering his eyes demurely, and followed the man back out into the larger room. Alk had made himself comfortable on the floor, a part of the carpet certainly eaten on.
Rue hesitated, glancing at Mikhail for permission, before darting over and hugging the young mott, curling up tight against him. His shoulders shook for a moment before he peeked back up at Mikhail.
“May this– I…stay here? While Sir gets warm?” he asked, muffled into the animal’s side. Alk, snuffling, was a lump, evidently just ready to sleep now that he wasn’t freezing anymore.
Mikhail carefully dabs under his eyes with a handkerchief, watching man hug the strange pet he brought with. “Yes.. bring him onto the bed with you. If you want to use the blankets feel free to. And.. you do not need to ask me, or anyone, to do something simple like that. Please relax, i’ll.. I’ll be out shortly” He stands there for a moment before picking up a remote and turning the holoscreen on. He flicked past a few emergency broadcasts before finding a Somewhat Cheesy Romantic comedy.
With a breath, he turned and went back into the bathroom, simillarly leaving the door open incase Rue needed something while he showered.
Rue did not in fact get onto the bed.
He didn’t like them. They were too high up off the floor, and too soft, and strange. It felt like suffocating and falling at the same time. Hunyi never made him go in the bed.
And Mikhail was saying he didn’t need to ask…and to relax …so…which order superceded the other?
With the slightest whimper, the hybrid stayed where he was, quite more comfortable to huddle up with Alk and wedge himself as low down as possible. He ignored the noise making light screen, having gotten better about not running from them when they startled him around the ports Hunyi took them through. Instead, he just tried to calm down, quiet and still, flower names running through his head. He got to dianthus, *diascia and dicentra before he felt the tightness in his chest begin to ease.
With that came more pondering. Why were Mikhail’s tears black? He had seen ones with black blood, but not tears. Was it part of his crystal scar? Was it sickness? Whatever had felled him outside?
Would he be alright?
And what were those warnings that had flashed on the screen? He hadn’t been able to read them that quickly, but the sounds were urgent.
And he felt something. A portent of doom from his Goddess. Pain and fear, out there, in the cold. Someone needed help.
And there were not bars keeping him away from them now.
He gnawed on his knuckles, nervous, waiting, while Alk started to snore. That sound and the softness of the robe alone nearly drew him to exhausted fainting, but he knew he could not rest yet.
So he waited, trying to form questions to ask Mikhail, determination growing slowly in his mind.
Mikhail wrestled with an array of emotions during his hot shower. He took a much longer time in the water than Rue had, not caring that the room steamed up. It was a few more minutes after he had calmed down that he stepped out of the shower to dry off.
He wrapped the towel around his hips, then stepped into the main room, combing his hands through his hair in and attempt to tame it back neatly. He noted the man still on the floor and frowned. “Rue.. are you ok?”
Gold eyes flashed up to the man, instinctively not making eye contact but still attentive looking, then stuttered downwards. He looked assessingly a moment for any signs of malnutrition, rash, internal bleeding, anything that might hint what had caused earlier in the alley, but found none on the visual examination. So quickly he looked back up, and bowed his head in a nod, petting Alk habitually while the mott snored.
“Yes, sir, Mikhail. This one is fine.” He paused, then chewed his lip more. “This one…I…have questions?”
“Questions?” He lowered his arms, only partially satisfied with the state of his hair. He shifted to the bed to sit on the edge of it. “Not interested in the bed? It’s comfortable..” he trailed off for a second, hands gently wringing in his lap as he chewed his lip.
“Ask your questions, I’ll answer as best I can.”
Rue struggled for a moment with an explanation to the man’s question, which superceded his own absolutely. “Thi– I find the beds… overwhelming. Too much.” He turned his cheek against Alk’s striped hide to peer up at Mikhail, shifting around subconsciously to keep his back turned away while he chewed his lip. “This garment is also like this. But. I-I l-l*ike*?” the word was used with extreme shyness, uncertainty, “…it. Not the beds. Hunyi and this one do the ‘camping’. That is fine. The ground is preferred. Safe. Normal.”
The frown persisted, but he withheld comment. This man must be.. incredibly overwhelmed by everything. Was food too overwhelming? Is that why he seemed so malnourished? “If you like it, you can keep it. It’s very good for drying after you bathe or shower. Even better if you put it through a drier before hand.”
He gently taps his knee with a finger, lips pursed. “If you are comfortable there, that’s alright. Everyone has different likes and levels of comfort. But.. you had questions?”
Rue gripped the robe, burrowing down further into it, as if it was now some second skin now it had been permitted for him to have, a novelty in itself.
He nodded to Mikhail’s direction.
“Yes, sir,” the hybrid took a breath, then began speaking quickly in soft enunciated tones, stuttering here and there. “What are Sir Mikhail and this one? What is Sir Mikhail’s designation? Why does Sir cry, and why are the tears black? Is it some necrotizing disease of the lacrimal glands or similar pathology of the eyes? If so is that why sir has no pupils? Or is this also an incidence of Sir’s natural pheonology? Perhaps Sir has a Devorarian sample in his genome? Or is it perhaps related to the crystalization affecting Sir’s flesh? Sir said it was a scar, does Sir always scar crystal? Does Sir’s flesh crystallize instead of hemostatic granulation and fibrin remodeling? Does it make Sir sick? Is that what happened to Sir in the alley? This one suspected first extreme fever, then concussion, but Sir did not present symptoms matching either diagnosis completely and this one does not understand what it healed. It apologizes for its stupidity.”
The ramble paused for him to bow while balled there on the floor, cozy in robe and with companion.
“Sir also has had an elevated heart rate since he and this one entered the room. Is he feeling sick again? Are all blizzards like this? Will the people be safe? This one can feel a dooming portent. Fear and pain. If there are those in need, this one would wish to aid them, if permitted. May this one contact Hunyi now? What is a dryer?”
Another pause, considering. He chewed and chewed his lip, then nodded to himself.
“That is all.”
The questions flooded the Arkanian, but luckily he was quite capable of filing them separately and addressing them at a time. He took a slow breath before beginning.
“I - Mikhail - am a free man. An Arkanian to be precise which is why I have no pupils. This means I can go whoever I want, and do whatever I want, as long as my actions do not infringe on the Health or well-being of others, and are not illegal. You - Rue - are also free now. I.. do not know what species you are entirely, if I had to assume I would guess a mix.”
He took another long, shaky breath before answering. “I.. cried because I was emotional. That a man like yourself, kind capable and well meaning would be driven to act in the manner that you do. It only brought ideas of what terrible things could have happened to you that I could not fix with a medicine. My tears.. they were black only because I wear makeup.” He gently swiped under his eye, gathering some black liner on his finger before showing it off. “It is for aesthetic, for looking nice. It’s carbon mostly, like a type of paint.”
He then reached up to his cheek, where the crystal glowed. “The crystal is.. a long story. A creature attacked me, one that was taken over by… red evil crystal. It ripped part of my spine out at my neck, and the crystal infected me. It started to grow on me.. through me. Controlling me to behave like the thing that attacked me. I was lucky that I was capable of holding it at bay long enough to be saved and purified. The crystal is now blue, and does not…. It is not evil anymore.” He sat up slightly, his fingers falling to a few places across his flat chest and stomach area, indicating small scars here and there. “I scar normally. This was shrapnel mostly, from a crash. I have one here on my chest from a blade that was pulled on me a few years back.”
“In the alley I was drunk. There is a.. drink, alcohol, it impairs the body and mind. It is similar to being sedated, but it lowers your inhibitions, and allows you to escape.. bad feelings. It’s a poison, technically.”
“You are not stupid, you are very intelligent in matters of unique importance to you. Knowing genomes and potential causes for sickness, not knowing how the general world works is not a fault of your intelligence.”
He stuttered on the heart rate for a moment. “I.. was nervous. Bringing you here. I was worried and.. anxious. You are.. very… special. You.. I have not been… like this with anyone for a while and…” he swallowed “blizzards vary in intensity. It is a natural phenomena of weather. Most everyone should be ok. There will be those who may need help, but it would be impossible to make sure everyone is safe. Aiding some is noble, but.. you cannot save everyone.” His face tilts downwards to his hands, which he idly scratched at. Scraping phantom blood off his palms. “You may contact hunyi, yes. And - a drier is a machine that takes clean wet clothes and heats them until they dry.”
Rue was a good listener, always listened, had to listen, yes. And he followed along, at first.
But what Mikhail said was confusing, and then it kept going before he’d worked that out, and the hybrid realized he had sinned and asked too many questions and now all the beautiful answers were going to waste and he couldn’t keep up!
All of it was so much. New things. He should have asked one at a time. He shouldn’t have asked at all. He was wasting Sir Mikhail’s breath.
But– in the jumble one horror did stand out in Rue’s mind still.
Tail flicking, he unfolded from the ball he’d tucked himself up in with Alk there cozy on the floor between wall and bedframe and sprang up onto the bed beside Mikhail. He peered closely at the crystal, then at those crystalline eyes, sorrow open on his fallen-petal features.
“This one is glad that Mikhail is alive,” he said reverently, softly. He didn’t seem moved by the graphicness of the injury so much as startled by the source. “That Sir Mikhail battled monsters like this, this is something this one thought was only for the God and Goddess. Sir is amazing.”
Mikhail watched the man spring up, then next to him on the bed. He swallowed, back straightening a bit as if to make himself look more proper. The crystal bloomed across his left pectoral, above his heart. It sprawled along his right cheek and shoulder, and the back of his neck was an entire solid patch of it. A straight line spiderwebbed down along his spine, the point covered by his towel.
A colored hue rose to his ears once more as his eyes followed Rue’s movements. “Thank… I.” He grasped for words again. “No, battling monsters is the job for the common, who get thrown into combat in droves to die. What you do, healing on a whim, that is something fit for a god. That is truly amazing.”
Rue shook his head almost violently, skittering back to the very edge of the bed and hunching down, a look of deep terror and sickness replacing his rapt expression that bent towards the bedspread.
“This one is nothing like His Lord of Darkness nor the Moonlight Mother. Such is blasphemy. Please, please, Lord, Sir knows not Your Glory, please, punish this one instead…” he whispered to the sheets, single hand balling against his robed knees to white knuckles.
At first, the Arkanian Cringed inwardly. Had he commuted a faux pax with the man’s religion? But no, it seemed to be the.. utter lack of self worth to an almost violent degree. He scored closely, carefully, as one might approach an animal shying away. He extended his hand outward slowly, palm upraised and low to the surface of the bed to show it empty and not prepared to strike. “I will not punish you. You’ve committed no sin. May I touch you?” He added the last bit after a moments pause.
“God will punish,” Rue mumbled adamantly, shoulders hunched, but his scared look faded into something resigned. He thought of the ‘blizzard,’ and prayed.
My Lady, Mother, Goddess please. Shield this man. Aim the Sword’s anger at me. It is my fault. I used Your gifts and have garnered praise meant only for God and You.
She was forgiving. He prayed, prayed she would spare Mikhail.
The hybrid didn’t seem to catch that the other man was waiting for some answer. He just glanced to the outstretched hand, waiting, then lowered his eyes again.
The extended hand lowered to the bed, falling limp for a moment before it was reeled back into Mikhail’s lap. His lips pursed, frowning at the man before him. He wanted to help, however he could but did not know the first step forward on the path. He waited for a few moments, careful and worried of hitting a soft spot, but needing to push through anyway.
“Rue… who named you?”
“The Masters,” Rue recited immediately, placid but prompt. “This one’s designation is Experiment: Senth Peth Forn Krill Resh Dorn Twenty Nine Zero Zero Three Four Nine Nine One.”
So said, he reached up to gather up the loose, stringy, damp metallic hair that hung down his back in a curtain, having soaked the back of the robe, and turned to present Mikhail his back. There on the back of his neck in silvery raised scarring were perfect, crisp letters: SP-FKRD-29-0034991.
His frown deepened, hairs raising along his arms. An experiment. “These.. masters. The ones that did that to you, named you that. Were they.. did they look like me? Pale, solid white eyes and hair?” His stomach was already churning, at the potentials that suddenly were woken inside him. That this man wasn’t a slave. He wasn’t treated as property - more so a data point that could be flexed until broken then replaced.
A confused expression overtook Rue’s face as he glanced at Mikhail over his shoulder, sunrise lashes low. “Ah…to speak of them is…not for this one. This one is not worthy,” he mumbled uneasily, cringing visibly. He cleared his throat, glancing around, and then down again. He plucked at the comforter. “But…no, none of the Masters or Mistresses looked like you, with those specific combinations. Some had white hair. Some of us, some of the litluns, also had solid white eyes or white hair or were pale, but rarely both. And we were many oddities.”
Mikhail sat there silently horrified. He watched rue pick at the comforter as his stomach churned. “Do you.. recall anything before them? Your masters?” He swallowed, throat quite dry at this point. It was nauseating, what the man was inferring. To not even be worthy of speaking about them? Utterly broken.
The hybrid tilted his head. “This one doesn’t understand your question, Sir. The Masters and Mistresses have always been. They created this one, just like they created the others like and dislike it.” Then he paused, and his tail flicked behind him, seeming to connect a previous question with this new one. “Ah, does Sir Mikhail wish to know of this one’s family? Did you mean who named me Rue? That was Grandmother. Our secret. She was Poppy, and called me Rue Flower. She named others, and so I named them all too, after her termination.”
He smiled shyly at this, seemingly much more at ease not speaking of the masters.
The Arkanian looked away, a pain eating at his gut. He shuffled over to the window and pulled the cover back slightly until he could lean on the sill and look out, taking a few deep breaths that fogged up the glass infront of him. Shoulders sagged, he remained silent for a while. After a minute he spoke again, turning to properly face Rue. “There.. is so much that you need to know. I fear only very little of it would.. stick.” His lips tightened as he watches the man across him. The Broken Saint.
“Just know, that everything that happened to you.. is not Normal. You are a person that has been.. trained and shattered to be -” He seems to fail to fall to words, hands clenching into fists at his own lack of ability to help. “You have only seen… the terrible that exists. So much so that the normal is overwhelming.”
He takes a few steps towards them man, gesturing to the bed. “Even this.. something in almost every bedroom in the galaxy. Something almost everyone sleeps on for comfort. You are not comfortable accepting it”
The shy smile that had dared to bloom fell in the wake of Mikhail’s long silence and then sharp words. Foreign ones, wrong ones, but said with such authority, with fists made in anger and pain and displeasure twitching his face. When the man stepped forward, gesturing, Rue shied back down, slinking back off the bed and onto the floor with Alk, hunching up there with the mott. He bowed his head again.
“T-this one is sorry,” he whispered. He should not have shared. Not about the Masters, ever, and not about Grandmother. “Thi– I– I did not mean to upset– I’m sorry.”
With a heavy sigh he slid down the bed onto the floor, head hung in defeat. “I am not angry at you. You just… aren’t able to understand me. It’s like speaking a completely different language, because you don’t understand.” his knees raised, elbows finding them so he could hold his head.
“You have been trained to accept all the worst things that could happen to you as normal. You are free, you need to adjust to what is normal now. I don’t know how to do that without literally holding your hand through everything.” He rubs his face, blue eyes shut. He did not know what to do.
Rue was quiet, gaze fixed down. Alk snored peacefully.
He didn’t know what to do.
The hybrid swallowed.
“Oh,” he said. “So Sir Mikhail and this one are not…friends. S-sir is…says…this one is free. So…that means sir is not claiming me. Not a Master. So. He is not responsible for this one.”
It was the best he could offer, skirting around anything too close to telling or denial, while trying to offer the assurance that he did not need to concern himself with Rue and be so pained.
“May this one h-have it– my. Things. Back? I need to tell Miss Hunyi. I w-w-w. Will. Go back to her.”
He looked up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and only a slight pain. “I’m sorry. It’s frustrating that I cannot help you.” He stays silent for a moment, swallowing something down. “We can.. still be friends. If you want of course”
He looks towards the window and ever worsening weather outside. “You can of course take your belongings. Contact your friend, i assume that you have a compad? You can use mine if you don’t.” He points up towards the dresser where his jacket was resting.
Rue looked up, cautious again, yet still that shy smile was back so easily, lighting his features. His tail flicked.
“Mikhail would like to be friends with me?” he asked to be certain, gazing at the other man.
Mikhail’s eyes met Rue’s light smile, so hesitant. As if it was worried it would be slapped off of him. It tugged at his heart, causing the warmth to return to his face. “Yes, Rue. I would like to be friends with you, if you would have me.”
The hybrid brightened even more, tail curling and swaying and his skin seeming to shift, a slight golden sheen that matched his scales and iridescent hair shimmering over him. His smile was wide and shining, chest and shoulders lifting as if in accomplishment.
“Th-then we are…friends,” he said, a slight lilt in his words, a small upwards trill. He shifted in place, darting up from his spot to snatch his pad with his tail from where his wet clothes and things lay in a pile by the bathroom door and then retreating just as fast. He brought it to hand and set it in front of him, then started poking at it, evidently typing very carefully and slowly, clusmy to the still-new task.
Mikhail swallowed a lump in his throat, watching the man’s tail snag his pad so he could start pecking away at it. He let the room be silent for a bit, so that Rue could focus on his typing. He needed practice, that much was clear. He wanted to help, to type for him, but that thought alone brought a small realization upon the Arkanian.
Rue would not grow without agency. An agency that he lacked all his life until now it seemed. Solving problems for him can be helpful in short term but just like codling a child, would not lead to growth. Not that this man was childlike, but handling his problems should be treated with a degree of.. wider understanding.
It was strange, this spark of intelligent thought after a night of chaos and muddled being. But he would reflect on it later, for now he let the man do as he did.
“How.. what things do you do for fun? For enjoyment?”
It took some time to press all the buttons he wanted to, feeling their strange unliving feedback and watching their shapes appear without actually writing them. But eventually he managed his message, and performed the Send.
Hello Miss Friend Hunyi, this is Rue. Alk is safe. He ate many things and is warm now but it was cold. Did you know this is snow outside? We are at The Hotell with Meekhale. He has a room. Is this acceptable Miss? Apologies and thank you. -Rue.
He knew by now that it would send very fast and make a noise for Hunyi. Then she would reply and he would get a noise as well. He set the pad aside for the moment, petting Alk and feeling tired but bewilderingly comfortable with his new friend.
He wondered idly if Mikhail was waiting for him to dress him, and was about to ask when the man voiced his own question.
The hybrid perked promptly, a natural lifting of spine to attention and bowing of head. He had to consciously pull out of the pose and force his eyes to Mikhail’s blue bottomless pools.
“O-oh, um,” he began, stuttering. He bit his knuckle. “Thi– I …do. um. I enjoy…flora. Yes. Plants of all kinds and their ways. And helping, healing, when able. Tending the litluns. Always them. Ah, singing to them. Yes, those are all most good. And so is reading. I have found…the library. Hunyi showed me. And my friend and I spend much time there with lovely books. I was reading about gastrointestinal and lymphatic pathologies caused by a species of worm that lives in the rivers of a region on the planet Selen. There are many parasites in tropical sands. Oh! And I enjoyed sand. The ocean. Hunyi showed me that. Alk and I played in the water. Ah!”
- He turned and beamed down at the sleeping mott with a terribly gentle expression, like a parent to a child, rather than a child to their best friend, as before. He pet the creature ever so carefully.
“I love Alk very much. He is enjoyable always. And he is allowed in the library too. Hunyi asked. My favorite spot is by the window. The sunlight comes in. I enjoy sunlight. It is very warm and nice.” Gold eyes turned back to blue, shy. “I am enjoying t-talking with Mikhail as well. Um. If that is alright, sir.”
The Arkanian’s features softened, his body relaxed slowly as Rue spoke. He payed quiet attention, a slight upwards force tugging at his lips. The only change that came was a rose hue when the last words were spoken.
“That.. that’s fine, absolutely alright I mean. I- it’s ok to.. like talking. You don’t need to ask me if it is alright to feel something, ok? You can just.. share it. The same goes with anything else. I will listen” he took a breath, steadying his voice before he swiveled to another topic. “I too enjoy reading. The world of medical literature is always evolving, and there are a plethora of new studies to read always. We are lucky to live in a time where broad spectrum anti-biotics, worms, fungals, and virals are readily available.”
He shifted, swaying back and forth until he wiggled back against the bed more comfortably. “I have seen oceans. Flown shuttles over them. Even crashed on a beach… but I’ve never been able to really appreciate them. To me are…” he trails off, withholding from voicing his concerns of the vast unknown under the waves. Perhaps Rue did not need those thoughts to cloud his memory. “Mysterious.” He finished.
Rue’s smile grew a bit at the encouraging words, and then further to see the barest twitch of Mikhail’s mouth upward. He brightened at mention of reading and medicine, eyes widening at mention of flying and oceans and crashes.
“Mysterious…” he echoed, shifting just the tiniest bit closer to his new friend, putting more weight on one side than the one closer to Alk. His tail flicked and curled back towards his legs, and he grasped it, lightly combing at the ends of the fur. Though as beautiful a gradient as his hair, it was drying in clumps after the shower, and he began using fingers and teeth both at an attempt at grooming it one-handed. “I find…most everything mysterious now. I used to know everything exactly. And now– everything is a mystery. But I am learning. Perhaps, if you ever came to the Selen…you would find the sand we played at nice. I could…show you?”
The innocence of this man was astounding, enough to cause a pain inside of the Arkanian. But any thoughts that he may be lacking intelligence were squashed by his engagement in medical studies and the attentiveness he showed. “I… would like that. I think.” He swallowed, staring at the man hard. The fluttering pain inside him needed to be dated, so Mikhail stood and moved to the desk where a cluster of tools and gear sat. Of the selection he lifted a brassy golden mask with a near neutral glare forever molded on its front.
He pressed a few button on a linked wrist plate on the table, seemingly adjusting something as he spoke. “Medically.. I am quite well trained. I can diagnose some things just by eye, but there are many things I’ll never be able to tell without a scan. That’s what this is for.” He gently taps the side of the mask, then approaches Rue. He pauses, as if he was about to hand it over
“Have you.. ever worn a mask like this?”
Rue had peeked after the man, watching him move curiously but not daring to move himself more yet. He kept combing his tail, head tilting as Mikhail approached with the ‘mask,’ which he didn’t reach for.
“No, sir,” he answered, shaking his head. “This is the first time one has seen a…mask…like this.” He frowned slightly. “It looks sad. And somewhat frightening.”
“Well.. you wear them over your face. Masks have many uses, and meanings. This one allows me to medically scan someone and view their vitals in my peripheral as I’m working on them. It’s part of my armor, a suit that I built to help me in combat as a medic.” He slowly spun it in his hand, looking down at the faux face carved into it. “It also has meaning. Why it looks angry, or frightening as you say.”
He spun it again and handed it down to Rue. “You can put it on, just hold it over your face for a few moments if you’d like. I set it to display in basic, so you can read my vitals. Though, it may feel strange to have your face covered, there is no need to panic. You will be fully able to breath normally.”
The hybrid listened intently, taking the item handed to him reflexively and starting to lift it on with a strange confliction of movement: the action was unfamiliar, and stilted, but the absolute immediacy in following a direction was fluid.
He hesitated just before it touched his face, saffron eyes flicking back upwards. Words Mikhail had said multiple times through the night, so foreign and incomphensible, echoed around his mind until they reformed curled at the end in the fragilest question.
“D-do I…have…to?”
A soft smile, reassuring, graced Mikhail’s lips at the question. A momentous victory, it may not have seemed. But in truth, it was a huge step. “You do not have to if you do not want to. If you are curious, you can put it on. If not, you can hold onto it while I put some clothes on, or set it to the side. I can tell you what it means, if you’d like?”
Rue nodded to the last, carefully turning the mask over to inspect the sides and inside. “Why does Sir mean to look ‘angry?’”
Mikhail gave the man one more look, then stepped away towards the closet. He pulled some clothes out, then stepped into the bathroom. All the while he spoke, loud enough for rue to hear. “It’s an old tradition, or.. statement. On Arkania, there are masks that the nomads wear that limit the amount of snow and glare that hits one’s eye. It improved vision. It also covers the heat given off by a face, reducing the chances you are seen. They were widely used long long ago during war to see better and be seen less. The look.. that comes from old tales. Of cities that were under siege or threat of overwhelming attack. Men would create masks to wear that appeared stoic, frightening, angry, to cover their own. So that the enemy would not see an ounce of fear in them even if they are doomed. They’re called Death Masks, in the presumption that you are going up against the impossible, willing to face death without fear while recognizing that fear is natural.”
The hybrid continued to listen, less mindful of the noises of cloth and the heartbeat he could count without whatever magic the mask held as he got more lost in the sound of Mikhail’s voice, the story. Arkania. What was that? A city? A planet? A god’s realm? And they had the snow too? And war…but he knew only of one war. Men covering their faces with anger and fright, only to not show the same? Death?
He turned the mask back over, frowned at it, then quickly put it down on the carpet, face down. His knees tucked up to his chest and his one arm and tail wrapped around them.
“I do not … understand the statement. If you are scared and angry…then why show those same things on the mask? If the mask is to hide…it seems… contradictory.”
The was a few moments of thoughtful silence before the reply came from the Arkanian who poked his head through the doorway. “It’s.. complicated. The mask shows strength in rage, a sort of defiance. Meanwhile beneath it.. you are scared.”
He disappears for another few seconds before he steps out again, fully dressed once more. “It is to hide whatever moments of uncertainty you may have. So that the enemy does not see anything but defiance in your last acts.”
Rue was quiet a moment, then said, “Strength in rage. This is true. God is the strongest, and He is Rage. And the Masters. They are strong, and raged.” He nodded slowly to himself, but had curled up tighter, and did not look at Mikhail then. “You say the enemy again and again. This seems of great import. Is the enemy Sir’s purpose?”
Mikhail moved closer, leaving the bathroom to sit on the edge of the bed. It felt strange to be above the person he was speaking to, but he didn’t want to disturb Rue too much. “My purpose? I.. wouldn’t say that. The enemy is just the hypothetical…. Enemies are.. hard to label.” He sighed and looked at the floor, lips pursed in thought.
“The enemy is.. whatever being or group of beings wish to harm you, or destroy something you care about. Your city, your family. Your home. Sometimes the enemy doesn’t want to be your enemy but neither of you have a choice…” he trailed off for a few moments, a sick twist in his gut drawing most of his attention to the memories. Of necessity and survival. “But.. again it’s just an example. I wear that because my enemies now are more obscure and more numerous than I could hope to overcome alone.”
Concern creased Rue’s brow, and he looked up suddenly at his friend, worry blatant on his petal features. “Is Sir in danger? Are you hunted too?” He stammered a moment, as if catching himself, smacking the side of his head in a reprimand and then shaking it off. “I– can help. You are not alone. I.”
Kerissa. The litluns. Before her, and after. Grandmother. So many.
So many.
“I will be there.”
He said it like a vow, quiet but as certain as anything.
Mikhail frowned and stood, looking down at Rue after he struck himself. “Hey, none of that. I do not care whatever.. training you’ve underwent. It is not acceptable to hurt yourself like that. Alright?” His jaw clenched, unsure how much he can press before the man simply shut down. He lowered himself back onto the bed, watching Rue carefully.
“I’m sorry. Do not hurt yourself, please. It solves nothing and only reinforces negative traits.” He let out a breath, shoulder sagging a bit.
“As for me.. I do not believe I am hunted. But… my family is widely disliked. Someone who particularly hates them might view me as a threat. I.. appreciate the offer for help. And I will accept it, as long as you allow me to help you in return.”
“As Sir wishes,” mumbled the hybrid at last, having flinched when Mikhail suddenly stood, and then been still and quiet throughout the apology and further commands. He bowed his head, the long, tangled-drying strands of his metallic hair shimmering different shades with the movement. “Whatever Sir wishes.”
Golden eyes peeked through clumps, searching for acceptance or punishment further.
“It’s not what I wish, Rue.” The Arkanian lowers himself to the floor, once more sitting across from the man against the bed.
“It should not matter what I want. What matters is what You want. Do you want to hurt yourself?” He wasn’t sure if the man was even able to comprehend what it meant to want for himself. This… attitude. Fostered by a rage fuel ‘god’ and Masters. Horrific.
That gave Rue considerable pause. His gaze nailed itself to the floor, and his hand lifted to his mouth again, biting in and gnawing on knuckles. It drew blood, but each puncture would close before it could even drip.
Finally he mirrored Mikhail yet again, and sat down on the bed opposite him.
“Thi– I. Do not. Know,” he confessed, chewing all the harder. His tail lashed, then curled tight around his leg, bare besides the robe. His nails were stoney and thick. Every ligament and bone and joint showed in stark relief under his lavender skin. “It– is. What is. Correct. Right. It. Is. It is. This one. I-is supposed. To. Must. How it learns. Must learn to be good. Better. M-make pleased the Masters and Mistresses. Please God. That is this one’s purpose. Mikhail said. He is a soldier. This one serves.”
The longer he spoke, the worse his stutter became, and yet for all the fear and pain in his tone, there was also a growing, desperate frustration.
“No one will punish this one!” he exclaimed suddenly, breathy and sharp. “If the Master cannot, then it must punish itself, but everyone here stops it! Hunyi catches its hand, and– a-and keeps feeding it! But i-it al-ready ate! She says no! And Kerissa! Orders not to call her Miss, keeps asking what is wanted! Now you!” It wasn’t particularly loud, but it was certainly the loudest Mikhail had heard the hybrid speak yet. “Y-you, you! You command no, no punishment, but give no order! Why have this one strip and clean if not to do the lesson? Wh-why– how– how can this one please if no one will punish?! What does it want? Want? I just want to do better! But no, no, no! Not allowed, don’t, stop! It–”
He broke off, curling tighter, half a sob. His face tucked down to his knees, bowed, and his spine cringed ever downward.
“…sorry, sorry, this one is s-s-sorry, spoke out of turn, God, Lord, please, punish it, punish it, leave them be…”
Mikhail shook his head slowly, looking at the floor between them. He was processing what it meant, to learn solely by pain. Pain was a useful tutor. But only when used a scalpel, not a hammer. His thoughts were interrupted by the continued outburst, though it seemed more like a trickling creek than powerful rage.
He sat up, watching Rue this time with far more concern in his eyes. He was no therapist. Clouds above knew he could use one himself. But that didn’t mean he would fold on this. Something must be done, something had to be done.
He must help.
So he stood, then closed the small gap to reach the bed. He sat at the edge of it, careful not to disturb Rue. He rested there for a minute, letting The man start to relax before he spoke in a soft voice.
“They refuse to punish you because they care about you. They want to see you healthy, so they feed you. The things you have been taught to accept, were only for the pleasure of those teaching you. It served no other purpose besides their pleasure. They did.. evil things.. and taught you to accept it. They Wanted that. But those close to you, that care about you, know that you do not deserve it.”
He wanted to reach out for the man, to rest a hand on him, but he withheld. Instead he set his hand on the bed near the tightly bound tail. “We.. your friends, want you to understand that. And I know it can be hard to do so, seeing as you were.. so effectively trained. But you must try to understand, what those people did to you was wrong. But you see it as right, only because they controlled you, taught you to see it that way. To keep you subservient.”
He gently taps his fingers against the bed, watching the man before looking away and swallowing hard. “It’s alright to feel things, to say whatever you want. To react however you want. But do not punish yourself. You do not deserve it.”
Rue shook finely throughout Mikhail’s soft speech, no longer on the verge of such a disrespectful outburst, having jammed his hand into his mouth to silence himself properly.
What his new friend said simply didn’t make sense. It was too much, too much to accept about the Masters…
Even though in his heart, he knew it to be true. He knew it in scars he did not have to show, in Kerissa’s face, small and toddling, wet with tears, her hands burnt and blackened, in the crying and the begging and in more, more pain.
In how the day he had lost his arm had been one of the happiest of his existence, because she was gone. She had gone, she had escaped.
She was free.
And he remained.
And he loved the litluns. Over and over and over.
And…
“Quiet,” it’s an order, it’s an order, “that’s enough. No more karking crying or screaming, you hear me? Enough. You be quiet. Don’t you make a sound. Or there will be another accident. Just…quiet and hold still.”
He bit down harder.
Mikhail’s voice was so far away, but a gentle thp thp was very close. He could hear that, feel that, the reverberations. Not like tapping fingers in impatience. More like a pattern or a tune.
His eyes cracked open, and he saw past the curtain of his hair and edge of his knee pale fingers dancing on the fabric.
Close, not far away.
A hand–
But one that hadn’t hit, or ground his skull into the floor, shivering and bare to cold. One that had given this soft ‘robe,’ one that had shown kindness.
Mikhail had cried for him. So had Kerissa, not even remembering why. Hunyi was so sad sometimes. All because of him. Because he wasn’t learning fast enough or right or–
“…do not punish yourself… You do not deserve it…”
But he did.
How was he to do this? If how he wanted to react was to punish, but he was told explicitly not to punish?
- Whimpering, Rue drew his knuckles from his teeth, placing his hand down on the bed beside Mikhail’s in subservience. The flesh was ragged from the gnawing, deep fanged gouges revealing white bone amidst pink flesh.
It would heal, as it always did.
“As you wish,” he repeated with sudden exhaustion. “This one will not punish itself. But please. Pl-please. What shall it do now?”
Mikhail gently took Rue’s hand, holding it carefully as he examined the wounds. Before he could say anything about them, they started Changing before his eyes. Muscle tendons lashed out to reach each other, covering the bone as they pulled the wounds together slowly. The flesh seemed to boil and grow more, filling the gap Rue’s teeth had left. What fascination he had in recognizing the ability to heal, was squashed quickly. The amounts of damage that could be done to this man, then quickly redone. Not to mention a reason the man is so thin. The energy that it would take to recoup this damage, would require a lot of food intake.
He gently brushed his thumb across the knuckles, now fully healed, as he spoke. “You Live. You learn. You leave the shackles of what happened to you behind, even now they still grip at you. You find joy, love. You find pleasure in things. The sand of a beach between your toes, the warmth in the fur of a loyal pet. The trust of friendship.” The bright blue eyes tried to meet Rue’s past the shimmering hair.
“You find things.. that you want to do. Places you want to go. People you want to meet.”
A tiny whimper eeked out of the man at that gentle touch to his knuckles, so terribly unfamiliar. He trembled with it, head to toe, but his hand clenched rather than trying to shy away. A hiccup followed, and then more choked on, soft, whining little cries.
“T-the s-sand is warm,” Rue stuttered out, barely raised golden eyes struggling upward to peek back, tears streaking scaled and freckled cheeks. “A-a-and A-Alk is w-arm and l-lovely and. And. A-nd sunlight is warm and, h-hugs are w-w-w-rm.” It seemed he’d found a pattern to latch onto in the tumult of the storm only inside him, rather than that without the walls they sheltered in. His grip latched just as tightly to the pale hand holding his, and on another hiccup, his voice cracked, “Y-you’re so warm.”
Mikhail’s heart tore at the difficulties the man had, even if he was finally working towards improving. The bittersweet success flooded Mikhail with emotion, and his hand tightened ever so slightly in return, acting as a solid rock for Rue to hold onto in the clashing torment of his own emotions that he no doubt was experiencing.
You’re so warm
The cracking voice was torturous to the Arkanian. Between the long, stressful day, the deep exhausting talk, the intense drunkenness that had been somehow cured. This man’s defenselessness completely disarmed the usually stone wall exterior of the well disciplined Veteran.
He took a slow breath, mind clogged with thoughts. Only one urge pushed through the others.
Silently, Mikhail shifted on the bed. He lowered himself until he was on his side facing Rue, then slid closer. He used his body like a pry bar, uncoiling the Saint from his ball to instead coil around him if he so chose. Mikhail rested on his side, curled up a bit with his face a few inches from Rue’s chest. His arm draped over the frail body of the man in an embrace, pulling him closer until his warmth could be shared.
Blue eyes slid closed, muscles relaxed, and any loose thoughts faded away as he laid against the other man.
Rue gave the smallest squeak as he was handled, an initial resistance to be pulled given up quickly as the hybrid went limp and compliant. He fully let himself be laid down and pulled closer, breaths shallow and rapid, tear-filled eyes wide and glazed over, suddenly tense for something.
But whatever it seemed he was waiting for didn’t come. Mikhail’s eyes closed, and there was just their respective slow and quickened breathing. Mikhail’s arm was a weight over him, but a warm one, pressing but not crushing, holding but not trapping. It wasn’t unlike when Hunyi shifted in her sleep, after Rue joined Alk in burrowing into her back while they camped.
Oh.
Oh, it was. A nice thing.
In increments, the hybrid began to loosen, his chest slowly coming down from its panicked staccato, his tears drying up to wet sniffles. He shifted a little bit, waiting again for rejection, and then, when none came, all at once moved, balling up again into Mikhail’s chest, into his warmth, as close as possible while his tail coiled ‘round and tangled up. He closed his eyes too, gripping the linen of the man’s shirt, head tucked down under chin.
Mikhail hardly moved, only doing so when the man curled up so he could himself curl around the man. Shielding him from the outside world, from the cold, and - he wished - from his past. Body against body, he could feel Rue begin to relax. He could feel the breath against his chest, rising to brush against his neck. He could feel the frailness under his hand which gently rubbed a small reassuring circle into the man’s back. Rainbow hair filled his vision when he cracked open an eye, but it was quickly closed again.
After a minute, when rue had calmed down even more, a soft voice began singing in a language unfamiliar to him. A light, slow melody not too different than a lullaby came from Mikhail. The tinkling tones of his voice clear and quite well trained. He sang for the Saint as he held him close, hoping to ease him even more.
For a few enraptured moments, Rue just listened, body fraught between easing into the warmth and twitching where a hand rubbed at his back. It felt. Nice. But that didn’t make sense. Having a hand on his back, touching there, had always–
Hurt.
But eventually the muscles stopped flinching as no pain came, and Rue laid there, inhaling deeply.
And then he started to hum along. He picked a lower note to start on, catching the edge of the melody, and in heartbeats began harmonizing. He didn’t know a word, didn’t want to interrupt to ask, but the song was beautiful, as was Mikhail’s voice, and he wanted to add to it. To give it back too.
He’d always sung lullabies.
Mikhail’s voice was slowly muffled as he leaned in closer to Rue, his breath soft and light against the other’s exposed collarbone. The singing faded to an end, and the Arkanian fell quiet. Exhausted, he felt it was a good time as any to sleep. At least Rue would stay warm and comfortable on the bed.