Chapter 21
Misty
There were leaves in the hallway.
Misty blinked at the dark blue detritus scattered about the floor outside of her room – like the forest was trying to move in. The leaves were darker than they would be on the trees, but she recognized fellbud leaves after walking under them for so long.
Why were they outside her door?
Not just outside her door but going down the hallway too. But only to one side. They lined the walkway like someone had opened a window for a couple weeks in the middle of autumn’s shedding period. Which she might have suspected had happened if the leaves didn’t only line the hall going right up to her door and no further.
In that way, it looked more like a path.
Who would make a path of dead leaves outside of her door? And why? It wasn’t even like the leaves were laid out like flower petals for her to walk over. They were against the wall, making more of a guideline situation.
Misty stood there for a moment, just inside her door, arms crossed, contemplating. The path looked like it led her to the front, which was where she wanted to go. She was done with work for the day and she had planned to spend some time chilling in the garden.
The kreecharma, she quickly discovered, were corpuscular as a species. They slept during the day and night, but were awake around dawn and dusk. She had adjusted her schedule at the salon accordingly, but with her own human flare thrown in.
She worked during the day, enjoyed herself while the rest of the city slept, then did a bit more work in the afternoon before taking a nap for a while. Then, she’d wake up, as she had now, and enjoy the sunset in this beautiful, alien, purple sky before touring the garden in the dark. She was planning on making a trip to the city soon. She had become very comfortable in the manor and run out of places to explore there, so she was ready to expand her territory.
Not tonight, though. Tonight she planned on drinking the new not-wine she bought, bathing in the moonlight like the proper goth baddie she was, and then probably snuggle The General later. It was a solid plan.
But now she had to figure out this leaf situation.
“I just know there’s something at the end of this,” She mumbled to herself. The only question was if she actually wanted to see what it was.
Conventional wisdom told her no. She should not follow the random leaf trail. She might get kidnapped by the fae – if Kree even had fae. The Kree version of the fae. Or she might find herself talking to someone she didn't want to see right now.
Like Davard – who she had decided to be mad at in perpetuity for being a little nark that constantly reported on her to Tsok and thought he had the right to change her schedule as he desired. Or maybe it led the char himself.
Who she wasn’t sure she didn't want to talk to.
It was kind of confusing. Part of her was in no way ready to forgive him. Another part was suggesting that maybe he was just really bad at romance. Which, if he had absolutely no guide in how to do it, seemed likely.
Increasingly so as she looked at the leaf path.
“Meh,” she finally shrugged. “Screw it. Let’s follow the blue leaf road and see where it takes us. It’s either a deadly poppy field of asbestos or Oz. Let’s hope for rainbow horses.”
Decided, she started down the path. She was wearing a sheer, black duster style dress that trailed behind her with each step, fishnets on her legs, boots up to her calves, blood red lipstick to match the red in her hair, and a corset tight enough to serve the girls up on a goth black platter.
In other words, bring on the unfortunate male at the end of this path that she was ready to walk all over because the mood had struck her.
The leaf path took her through the manor, out to the front entrance hall, then outside. From there, the leaf path became a netted leaf path. The same guideline of leafs, but to keep them from blowing away, someone had laid a net over them. The leaf path itself already completely lost its flower petal romance just by virtue of the abandoned house vibes it brought; the small length of black netting just completely ruined whatever was left.
She rolled her lips inward, biting them to keep her expression under control as she continued around through the garden. She smelled something on the breeze – someone was cooking, and it smelled good. But it smelled like BBQ. Hot meat seared on a grill, nothing romantic. But there was no way Davard had done this, so it had to be Tsok.
Oh, he was so bad at this.
She came around to the path that led to the large gazebo that was situated between their manors. It was a lovely stone feature with a high, domed roof kept up by six pillars. Wrought iron style grating rimmed the area where the steps didn't lead into and out of it. The area was wide, spacious enough for a decent deck party, with wonderful views in every direction. The Glass Manor, Fellbud Manor, both gardens, the city to one side, and the trees of nature to the other.
Tonight, however, someone had lined the gazebo with more net covered leaves. Above, hovering lights were sparkling like a downed powerline. Definitely not soft, romantic lighting. In the middle of the gazebo, there was a genuine, bona fide spit roast. Admittedly, it wasn’t a pig, but it was a large animal that was slowly rotating over an open fire – so close enough. Fat from the roast occasionally dripped into the fire, hissing and spitting as it made contact with the burning wood. It smelled good – spicy and savory – but it was a bit confusing.
A leaf path and a spit roast and mood lighting – if the mood someone was going for was sparky power outage.
And there was Tsok. He wasn’t turning the spit – that was being done by a little machine that was holding the beast up. He was, however, using a brush made of herbs to spread some kind of buttery looking sauce all over the cooking flesh.
He was half naked. The robe he had chosen was a pale, sweet blush pink, but he had shrugged it off his shoulders, letting the top fall down around the skirt. Leaving him shirtless, his fur being stroked by the night breeze. His ear twitched as she approached, so she knew he knew she was there, but he didn't turn as he focused on the meat.
Misty stopped short of him and the fire and looked on curiously.
“So, what’s all this then?” She finally asked, keeping her tone neutral.
“This is a hirve. It’s a beast with very flavorsome, fatty meat. It’s not uncommon to eat, but the quality of this particular beast is much greater than what you’ll get from a butcher or a store. This was a prize winning hirve from a long line of tasty morsels.”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded before gesturing around. “And all this?”
“Mood lighting,” he finally turned, giving her a self-satisfied smirk. “Humans appreciate mood lighting. It sets the tone for the evening.”
“Indeed. What tone were you going for with those lights?”
“Passion, of course.”
“Ah. Naturally. Should have guessed that.” She nodded along. “And the leaves?”
“Admittedly, that one confused me. But the human data said that human females typically are guided to their males by walking over plant matter scattered by younglings. I had one of the staff spread it. She wasn’t a youngling, but she was the youngest. I hope that will still suffice.”
“I’m not going to complain,” she said, struggling to keep herself under control as she walked away from him, still looking around.
He had set up a table and chairs to one side of the gazebo. It was a circular booth style table, small enough for both of them to sit comfortably, but easy enough to keep distance between them or shorten it as they desired.
Except someone had spread leaves over the seats. And there was a small fire in a little brazier burning in the center. Not romantic candlelight by any means, but she could see the inspiration. What really confused her, however, were the metal discs hung up like wind chimes – or a baby mobile – coming off the back of the booth seating. She wasn’t sure what that was about. Nor could she figure out why there was a bucket filled with arrows. Like from a bow. They were long, almost like little spears, and thicker than she would have expected, but they had fletching and an arrowhead, so she was pretty sure that’s what that was.
Oh, this was getting even better.
She brushed away some of the leaves before primly taking a seat. She looked towards Tsok as he used his bare claws to rip the meat off the hirve and add it to a plate. It was a pink-ish meat – not quite white or red – and it steamed, thick and juicy, as he brought it over.
“A feast for you, my Misty,” he declared, setting the plate down before sliding into the other side. He didn't attempt to move the leaves and they crunched under his weight as he scooted in closer to her, never crossing the midline.
“Is this a date?” Misty asked, chin resting on her hand.
Tsok smirked, head held up high, shoulders back. “You could tell that easily? I must have done it well.”
“Uh-huh,” she hummed. “Question: What’s with the shiny metal disks?”
“Ah, that.” He looked up at the bizarre mobile then back at her. “Davard found that in human mating traditions. We didn't have any metal cans, but I thought that the metallic discs would do well. It’s the sound that is important, right?”
“Cans? What do cans have to do with… Oh! You mean the cans we tie to the back of the car of a couple that just got married?”
“I was supposed to tie them to a hover?” He repeated, confused. “What good would they be on a hover? You wouldn’t be able to hear or see them.”
“Fair point, fair point. So, then, what’s with the arrows?”
“That’s another thing that confused me. But in so many human images of romance, there was an infantile human wielding a bow and arrow. Now, I do know that human infants cannot pull back on bows, so I’m guessing this was metaphorical somehow, but the arrows seemed important. So we brought them in case you needed them.”
“Ah. Cupid’s arrow. Those are meant to represent Cupid’s arrow. That explains it.”
Tsok gave her a look. Searched her expression as she tried – she really tried – to keep it together. His ears dropped. “I did this wrong, didn't I?”
“No-o-o…”
“Misty, do not lie to me,” he fixed her with a look.
She couldn’t take it anymore. She burst out laughing. It was probably – no, definitely – the most ridiculous thing she’d ever seen! She’d never seen a date go so wrong. It was like he’d taken a bunch of first date ideas, mixed them up with some wedding traditions, understood neither, shook them up, then just splattered them all over the gazebo.
It was silly and hilarious and she couldn’t keep it in any longer. Tsok let out a long breath as he sat back into the seat.
“Alright. What did I get wrong?”
“Nothing,” she snickered, shaking her head, trying to get herself back under control and failing absolutely and completely.
“Give me a hint.”
“It’s great.”
“You’re laughing.”
“Because it’s funny,” she wheezed, sliding around so she could nudge him with her shoulder. “Nothing here is right. But that doesn’t make it wrong.”
He gave her a look that she ignored as she instead picked up a piece of steaming hivre meat. It burned her fingers a bit, making her toss it into her mouth where it promptly burned her tongue. But she kept it there, bouncing it around through hot puffs of air, as she waited for it to cool off enough to bite into it with a satisfied hum.
He was right, it was really good. The flavor was somewhere between lamb and goat, but the meat itself was tender and soft like slow roasted beef brisket. It melted in her mouth as she chewed, making an appreciative sound of enjoyment.
“You do not have to force yourself to pretend to like it,” Tsok said. “Though, I am confused. The human data said that dinning together was a very common first date idea.”
“It is,” she agreed, reaching for another piece. When she sat back, she was leaning against his side again. “What made you go with spit roast though?”
He didn't answer right away, catching her attention. She glanced up but he was looking away, his ears flattened to his head as he admitted softly-
“It is a primitive way of cooking. I thought you might appreciate it more.”
“Because my species is primitive?”
“No,” He said quickly. “Because your species is more… primal.”
“Ah, I see. And you thought that me seeing a shirtless male roasting an alien pig on an open fire was primal enough to get my engine going?”
He said nothing, which was as good as confirmation. She grinned, leaning closer to whisper-
“Well, you thought right, sugar. That was a very nice sight. And this is some good meat.”
He whipped his head around. Eyes wide in surprise. “You said I did it wrong.”
“No, I said you didn't do it right,” she snickered. “Doesn’t mean it’s wrong, or that I don’t like it.”
“But that…” He just looked confused.
“It’s sweet,” she said, picking up another bite. Her fingers were covered in grease and whatever sauce he had been using, but she didn't care. It felt right. “The leaves were supposed to be flower petals though.”
“Ah!” He dropped his head back in defeated frustration. “That makes so much more sense.”
“I actually like the black netting. Very goth.”
“Really?” He perked up. “I thought you’d like the black color. So, I did do that right.”
“Never said you did it wrong,” she snickered. “The cans… metal discs are supposed to be for after we’re already mated though.”
“And the arrows?”
“Entirely symbolic. I’m going to say that statistically zero first dates include arrows, and practically zero include weaponry. It’s based on a myth, so we don’t need actual, real arrows.”
“A myth?”
“Yeah. The arrows are meant to represent love, and they’re being shot into your heart, striking you with that desired and dreaded affliction.” She snickered. “No one has ever given me a bouquet of arrows before though. You definitely get bonus points for creativity.”
He perked up again, giving her a look. Seeming to notice for the first time that she was willingly touching him, leaning on him, as she picked at the food he cooked for her. Half naked. Over a fire. Out in nature. Like a beast after the hunt. Fuck, that was actually kind of sexy. Just a little bit.
Still mad at him, but it was getting harder to state that with actual feeling.
This was the most bizarre and still somehow the cutest thing anyone had done for her. There was a lot of work here. Setting up the leaves, then the nets over the leaves. The spit roast! That was an actual beast over an open flame – that took time and effort to pull off. Not to mention all the time that must have gone into the research for the strange touches. He may have misinterpreted what they meant and what they were supposed to be, but he had made a real effort.
That’s what she saw around her now. Effort. Intention. He may have messed it up, but she really adored the end result he pulled together. For as strange, messy, and odd as it all was, he had done this all for her .
And, really, the mistakes were harmless ones. Kind of sweet, even. The sparky mood lighting representing passion instead of intimate, romantic undertones had to be her favorite part. It was like there was a silent rave ongoing over her head, sparks and little bolts firing off randomly but quickly. She just needed some EDM and a pair of glowsticks and she’d be ready to party.
None of this was tonally appropriate.
But romantic…
It was actually doing pretty well at that.
“This is good,” she said, picking up a piece of the meat and holding it up to his lips. “Try.”
He looked at the food, then over to her. She smiled at the slightly confused expression on his face. Like he was worried this might be a trap – or he might be misunderstanding.
“You are not… disappointed?” He asked calmly.
“Not disappointed,” she promised, pressing the meat on him.
Slowly, cautiously, watching her expression, he opened his mouth and leaned forward. He was careful, ever so careful, as he took the bite from her. Muzzle pulling back, teeth grabbing only the smallest bite possible, pulling it from her gently. Like he was making all attempts not to touch her.
That’s exactly what he was doing. He had her permission to talk to her, he had not yet gotten permission to touch her. Even if she was being obvious in her invitation. It wasn’t obvious to him. This male couldn’t pick up hints because this entire game was a mystery to him.
And, somehow, that was both adorable and tempting. She wondered just how far she could tease him. Just how close to the edge she could push before he realized he had nonverbal permission or he broke and begged for mercy.
“Misty,” Tsok began as she shifted her weight. He went silent when she brought her legs up and around to curl beside herself on the seat, leaning more into his side. Using him as a spot to steady herself, surprising him with the action.
But his fur was soft. She was used to the texture of kreecharma fur. She knew the different fur types and how they felt under her fingers. There were regional differences. Those who came from the colder side of Kree had denser, softer fur, while the fur of those like Tsok, who were from a more temperate climate, was thinner and, naturally, just a bit coarser.
But his fur wasn’t coarse at all. It might have been thinner, but he was soft like a well-tended kitty in a loving home.
And he still had her braid on his arm. He hadn’t attempted to undo it. The strange design, definitely not one she would have showcased in her portfolio, was worn openly with no small amount of pride. She wanted to fix it. To give him something actually nice. A design that he could show off to others.
Yet, at the same time, she rather liked the braid already there. What it represented. Like the completely odd date with the metal mobile and spit roast, it just seemed to fit.
“Can I ask you some questions?” Tsok finally continued, his voice a bit rougher than before.
“You can always ask me a question,” she responded calmly. How long, she wondered curiously, would she need to field those types of questions? How many permissions did he need? She wasn’t bothered by it. If anything, she found it kind of cute. She was just curious how long it would last. How deep it was going to go.
How much fun could she have withholding permission and teasing him?
He was so sexually repressed. This was going to be fun. He didn't even know how sexually repressed he was. She appreciated that he had other lovers, but the kind of relationships he described weren’t ones of closeness and intimacy. They were just heat and sex – quick and easy. The old in and out with no frippery or delight.
She couldn’t wait to show him more. She bet that furry, muscular body would look real nice all tied up, a blindfold over his eyes, ear plugs in, completely at her mercy. Sensory blind to everything but the touches she allowed.
Yes indeed, that sounded like a great deal of fun.
Tsok chewed the next bite she offered – once again, without touching her – before swallowing and continuing.
“I know I am doing this wrong. But I don’t want to keep making mistakes. If you would give me some guidance, I would like to improve my attempts at courting you.”
“No, you’re doing fine.”
“I offered you a bucket of arrows.”
“And I love them. I’m going to put a ribbon around them and display them as a bouquet in my entry hall.”
“Surely, you are joking.”
“I am surely not,” she grinned. “That’s the sweetest bouquet I’ve ever been offered. So stylish, and fits in well with my aesthetic. You’re doing great. Don’t change a thing.”
“It’s really hard to tell if you’re serious or not.”
“100% totally serious, absolutely no sarcasm, metaphor, or other methods of lie of omission, confession, or deliberate misunderstanding. No man has ever offered me a whole spit roast before, and, really, they were clearly doing things wrong because that completely worked. You smell delicious, by the way.”
She turned, taking a deep breath of his fur right there on his arm. Not even pretending to resist the urge to bury her face in it, like she had been wanting to do since she found out that she was living amongst a furry species. Professionals didn't give snuggles to their clients, which was a darn shame, because he was so soft .
And he smelled like herbs, butter, and BBQ. And sure, that was temporary, but she was really enjoying the experience.
“I am confused,” Tsok admitted when she turned, laying her head against him instead.
“I know. But you’re still doing great.”
“I could do better with some instruction.”
“Yeah, but then you’d just be doing whatever I tell you. I’m rather liking seeing what you’re going to do for me like this.”
“Even if it’s wrong?”
“I told you, it’s not wrong, it’s just not right.”
“Those things are opposites, Misty. If it’s not one, it has to be the other.”
“Nonsense.” She smiled, taking another piece of meat. “It just means you’re being unconventional. I rather like it.”
Poor thing, he just looked more confused. It was adorable.
“Tell me, honored char,” she started. “What exactly did you do with your other lovers?”
He frowned. “I feel as if that’s a bad topic of conversation.”
“Promise I won’t get jealous. Just tell me. I need to know what I’m working with here. You fucked, right?”
He made a face. “Yes.”
“Did you like it?”
“It was enjoyable.”
“Honored char, how you gush,” she retorted to his dull assurance. “Did you do any foreplay?”
“We used lubrication. It was quick and easy and saved us time in our busy schedules.”
“Be still my beating heart.”
“I have a feeling that you’re mocking me.”
“Only a little. Here. Eat.” She held up a morsel to his mouth and he took it with the exact same amount of care and caution as the other bites. He really was trying his hardest not to touch her without permission, even as he was getting frustrated and distracted. “So, no foreplay. Just straight to the do. Wham, bam, thank you, female. Got it. How about any kissing?”
“Any what?”
“K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Oh, damn, that song only works in English. Never mind. Kissing. Did you put your mouths together and suck face?”
“I’m starting to think you’re just making things up.”
“Nope. It’s a real thing. A real fun thing, too. I love kissing.”
That got his attention. He gave her a curious look. “You enjoy doing this?”
“Oh, yeah. Nothing like a good make out session to get me in the mood. So, do you kiss?”
He frowned. “I’ve seen what that means in the human data. I’m pretty sure that Vigo is seen pressing his muzzle against his mate. I cannot lie to you, Misty. I’ve never really thought that it looks like a particularly enjoyable… activity.”
She snickered. “An activity?”
“For want of a better word.”
Giggling, she turned, coming up on her knees. Before he could figure out what she was doing, she pushed herself up, planted her butt on the table, then spread her legs, putting one foot on either side of his thighs, as she rested her arms on his shoulder. With the elevation, her head was now slightly above his, letting her look down on him as her fingers played with the fur at the base of his neck.
His surprise was as adorable as the seemingly automatic way he put his hands on her hips, grabbing hold even as he was shocked to suddenly find her there.
“Shall we see if it’s an enjoyable activity or not?”