Chapter 3 – Sweater Weather #2
But I wasn't cruel, so I shifted my approach. "So, are there lots of people in your creche? Anyone going to be upset you've got a human tagging along?"
"No one will mind," Araxis said stiffly. "We are small, only six adults. There are three children on board. I wonder… Would you like their names and designations ahead of time?"
"Sure." It was thoughtful: sometimes, memorizing new names, faces and forms of address – especially with a species I wasn't super familiar with and so had a harder time differentiating features – felt daunting.
Even with Standard's six inflected pronouns, there could be more.
Sometimes pronouns from other languages got shoehorned in, depending on the significance of gender or status or rank within any given culture.
That discovery – that there were six pronouns and more genders, to say nothing of the variation in classifications of sex and types of reproduction – had been the nail in the coffin, as it were, when I'd been contemplating an escape from Seraphim.
No one in space cared that teenage Sashen had liked boys, and it turned out I liked more than boys; some species didn't have them, even, and I had truly fucked my way through the roster of Primus member species over the years. I'd nearly filled my bingo card.
Araxis pulled together a short and efficient dossier on his creche-mates and I kicked my feet up onto the dash in front of me after getting the all-clear to do so – didn't want to hit any self-destruct buttons – and I occupied myself with reading about his family.
And continuing my crash course in abayan culture.
Honestly, the articles I had were pretty bare bones: it was clear to me that abaya were a bit of a mystery, still fairly insular and not keen to share who they were with outsiders.
That probably meant they'd be more forgiving of any gaffes: if you don't tell people how to behave, you can't be upset if they mess it up.
I wanted to dig into more of my research on the Tournament, which I'd also downloaded, but I was hesitant to give anything away.
I'd read that sometimes contestants would find themselves sabotaged in the lead-up to the Tournament to better the odds for someone else and change the numbers for betting pools.
The fewer people who knew I was bound for the Tournament, the better.
If anyone asked, I could say I was going to help with the training – in keeping with the ancient traditions, no projectile weapons were allowed, so it was swords, blades, fists, and teeth all the way for maximum drama and carnage – or, you know, maybe I was just another perk for the competitors.
I was very good at my job. Some people might even think I'd been sent by Trident to snoop around and send information back to her, which would influence the stakes at her own den.
I mean, that was definitely the implication that Araxis would take because Trident had sent him in my direction.
And from what I'd said. A work opportunity came up.
But I couldn't imagine Araxis of Creche Thiel trying to sabotage me.
He seemed more like the sort who would hear about my stupid plan and look at me with pity and maybe try to talk me out of it.
I didn't want anyone to try and talk me out of it, unless they were extremely rich and planning to whisk me off to a palace on some distant moon.
And I didn't think I could handle pity – not on a normal day, and definitely not now, when thinking too much about what I'd signed up for and what I was running away from made me feel brittle, like an ounce of kindness might break me.
I considered asking Araxis why his creche was headed to the Thenat system, but odds were good they were going to spectate the Tournament. And as I didn't particularly care to answer the question if it was turned back my way, I decided I wouldn't be too nosy.
Although I did have plenty of other questions.
"I see the notes on pronouns." I pulled up a profile of Araxis's creche-mate Vivith, whose face was pretty similar to his if a little more angular and pinched.
"But what does this mean? It's not translating for me, so I'm assuming it's cultural?
It's, uh… cinelaat." I pointed to the word next to the Standard pronoun, and while the letters were arranged in the Standard alphabet, I couldn't parse the meaning.
Araxis blinked at me, the stars outside – now nothing more than streaks of light – gleaming in the black of his eyes. "That is their gender." He paused, then asked, "Why is the hair on your face rising?"
I snorted, then reached and scrubbed at the skin between my eyebrows. "Sorry, I guess that's a very human expression. I'm just surprised. How is it their gender? Isn't their inflected pronoun their gender?"
"A pronoun is not gender. My apologies: I forget sometimes that this is not the case with other cultures."
"Oh." I knew that was how things worked with a few species, like chikaari who used pronouns to show social status in their complex caste system.
"But you've shown that everyone on the ship does have a pronoun they use in Standard.
How did you decide to use he? Or – sorry, is this rude?
" I added belatedly as Araxis's cheeks silvered in his approximation of a blush.
"It is not rude," he said, words precise, as if he was choosing them very carefully.
"For abaya, we choose pronouns in Standard based largely on – hm.
" Araxis paused for a moment, his mouth tightening.
"This may sound flippant and I say it understanding that for many species, a pronoun is an important signifier of identity.
For abaya, it is often an… aesthetic choice.
I chose he because other sinnenthi commonly use that pronoun. That is it."
I wanted to ask what abayan gender was then; I wanted to know what it meant to be cinelaat, like the abaya in the file I had pulled up, or whatever it was Araxis had described himself as.
"And I see the children have pronouns noted.
Is that also based mostly on what's common for other abaya of the same gender? "
"Yes," Araxis said. "If they are interested in a different choice as they reach adulthood, that is understood to be normal."
"And is that the same for abayan gender? They can determine who they are when they're older?" I asked.
His flush deepened to pink. "Ah," said Araxis after a pause. "No."
Part of being good at navigating conversations about culture also meant recognizing when you were rapidly careening toward a no-fly zone, so I hastily scrambled to pick a different direction.
"Gender is often part of sexual attraction in other cultures.
Is that true for abaya? Is there a particular abayan gender or genders you're attracted to? "
Of course, sometimes you make a course correction right into an asteroid belt. Next to me, Araxis's eyes were wide and he was looking anywhere but in my direction.
Whoops. Right; they were weird about sex, and I already knew he was shy.
"Sorry," I said, wincing. "Stars, I'm being rude. Never mind: asking overly personal questions about sex is a hazard of the job, but I do know better. I'll make sure I keep my mouth shut when we get back to your ship. Sorry."
"It is fine," Araxis said, his dark eyes flicking to me for a brief moment before he unclipped himself from his seat to go back to one of the storage cupboards behind us.
He took out a datapad and appeared to start taking an inventory of some sort, while I berated myself for being so clumsy.
I was about to launch into another mental replay of that disastrous attempt at conversation – really, Sashen, just asking Araxis about what made him hot under the collar?
that was your softball? – when I heard him clear his throat.
I swivelled the chair to look at him, and found that he had paused in his inventory, looking in my direction with a thoughtful expression on his features.
If that was a correct read; who knew, maybe it was belated rage.
"Yes, for abaya, gender is the basis of attraction for those who are so inclined," Araxis said, picking up the conversation as if we hadn't been silent for a weird amount of time.
"Abayan gender is a foundational element of who a person is.
Rather than being a pillar of identity, as it is for others, for us it is…
not about being seen as we are, but rather about being as we are.
" He exhaled sharply, a melodic and fluting sound.
"We rarely speak about these things openly.
It is… challenging to try and explain, but not unwelcome. "
He was blushing again, and he turned his back to me, stretching to open an overhead compartment at the back of the shuttle.
Which gave me some time to stare at the lines of his back and his trim waist, and the well-muscled curve of his ass.
His hair – no, not hair, it was basically a mane of quills – was braided into a long, intricate crest that trailed down to his mid-back, white except for the darker ends and threaded through with twists of gold that glinted in the overhead lights of the cabin.
"You'll have to tell me if I ask any particularly obnoxious questions," I offered, working to pull my stare away from him.
"Honestly, I'm surprised you came to Alet Trident's so often if you get flustered by invasive questions about sex and attraction.
It's kind of what we specialize in. Or maybe that's what I specialize in. They don't keep me around for my tact."
He closed the cupboard, a soft trilling sound echoing in the space between us.
When he glanced back at me, I thought he looked amused – so maybe that had been a laugh.
"Those who know me would also be surprised.
I have been endeavouring to… expand my horizons.
And you are a very fine dancer; there was much to appreciate. "