Chapter 3 #3
For a long moment, Vivith stared at Araxis – face a frozen picture of tension, black eyes wide, dark crest like a smear of oil down their back.
Tension thickened the air, almost palpable, and then Vivith dipped their head, glancing down in deference.
"Of course," they said in Standard, the words dripping with something intentionally greasy and unpleasant.
"You must tend to your virra's feelings.
I gather such things are important to you, Araxis, though rarely does a sinnenthi bother with such minutiae.
We will look forward to enjoying your company once you have had enough time to indulge yourself.
" And then, before Araxis could say anything else, they slid the door open and vanished into the light beyond, shutting it firmly behind them.
Rarely does a sinnenthi bother. I'd heard that.
My hands flexed, sudden, by my sides as I stared at the glowing squares of light from the meeting room, distantly aware that my jaw was tight, my molars grinding against each other.
"Their attitude is a problem, Araxis," I said, voice low.
"They can't talk to you like that. It's fucked up. "
It had been like that for weeks. And I'd been doing my level best to get along with Vivith, but still – their tone, the dismissiveness with which they spoke to Araxis, their digs about our relationship and, worst of all, the shitty little comments about Araxis's gender were all too fucking much.
I didn't know how long I'd be able to bite my tongue.
Each time, it felt like a punch to the sternum; each time, the taste of blood became more intolerable.
Araxis had broken my trust, true, and he'd have to earn it back.
Vivith would never have it, I was sure of that much. If anyone was going to stab me in the back, it would be them. At least this time I was sure Araxis would do me the courtesy of stabbing me in the front and apologizing about it, if things came down to it.
To be fair though, I was spying on him – so I guess I was also stabbing him. We were all stabbing each other, is what I'm saying, but at least I knew that neither Araxis or I wanted to actually hurt each other.
Vivith, on the other hand, I wasn't so sure about. They certainly seemed to look for any opportunity to undermine Araxis and his confidence, or to outline how I was an absolute failure in every way that mattered, and quite a few that didn't.
"Yes, I am aware," he said, voice thin and buzzing with irritation, although it wasn't aimed in my direction.
"They overreach. We have been a small creche for so long that we have all had to take on many roles.
A cinelaat may lead a creche: this is also in their nature.
This is – not a new problem, Sashen. Please do not worry.
" He sighed, then, and looked back at me, mouth twisted into a frown.
"To speak to the significance of the caldathess: you are not marked as would be expected for a virra who is declared.
This suggests that I am not meeting your needs.
It is a sinnenthi's role to be always available for their virra.
That is part of what it means to tend to a declared virra. "
Now I frowned. "Sorry, if you haven't bitten me, that's because you're – not fucking me in the way I presumably want? And that would advertise that you're a shitty sinnenthi?"
"Yes." He looked back over his shoulder to the meeting room. He was practically scowling now, although when he glanced back at me, the expression softened. "When it is noticed that you are unmarked, you may find that you are approached by others who wish to offer for you."
I thought about Rodil, who'd wondered if I'd gotten rid of the mark accidentally, apparently a little overzealous with the subdermal knitter.
How many other abaya had seen my naked neck and assumed that Araxis wasn't fucking me well enough?
How had he thought it was okay to let me go out in public like this, when my whole purpose – the reason I was here – was to help him with his standing?
"So if I'm walking around like this, unmarked," I said, trying to follow and feeling very much like my neck was now a beacon as I tilted my head, "that means you're not getting me off, or whatever, and another creche will try to nab me.
Which weakens your position, no matter what I say or what I actually want. "
Araxis raised one shoulder gracefully in his version of a shrug. "It is of no importance to me, Sashen. You are a human virra, and I made my position on the traditions around virra and sinnenthi clear when speaking with Yarix News during the Tournament. We do not need to play by their rules."
He said it carefully, precisely, as if he had thought about this at some length.
Or perhaps as if this was a conversation he’d had with Vivith already, again and again.
I stared at him, feeling unsteady. There, in our dim bedroom, he was outlined in light and shadow, more of an ink drawing than a person.
"Well, that's just stupid," I said, coming to a decision all in a rush. "You should mark me then. That's easy, Araxis."
His tongue flicked out to his lower lip, barely visible.
His eyes were dark and glossy. "But – Hm.
" He stopped and swallowed, audible. Tension radiated from the lines of his shoulders, and it surprised me: it wasn't like he hadn't done this before, well before I had any inkling about what it meant.
He'd even done it before the Tournament, and then had apologized and used a knitter to hide the evidence. So I knew he wanted to. He had to.
Except the last time I'd asked, he'd said no.