Chapter 8 #3
I didn't want to hear any more of this anyway. "I'll go." I pushed myself up on shaking legs, my hand falling briefly to Araxis's shoulder. I gathered up the cups and the teapot and the tray and fled the room.
The moment the door slid shut, the cadence of their voices rose in a discordant crescendo.
Because of the dampeners, I couldn't make out any words – wouldn't have been able to even if they'd both pressed their mouths to the seams of the door – but the tone of voice told me everything I needed to know.
Cold doused the inside of my chest, chilling me down to my core, and I suppressed a shiver at the strange sensation.
I shook my head, willing myself to calm the sudden hammering of my heart, and went to the kitchen to make more tea.
The children were there, frantically cramming food into their lunch satchels.
I smiled distantly at Yalrinn, who seemed to be stewarding them to school this morning, and set the kettle on the burner.
As I stood there, leaning against the counter, Yalrinn drew a little closer, her eyes narrowing with concern.
She patted my bicep gently and leaned in close.
"Don't worry," she assured me. "They always fight like storms at sea, but the waters calm eventually.
Hm, there is a very fine sonnet from the ancient poet Lunin about the ocean.
Here, let me recite it to you and you might quiet your own stormy soul. "
And look, I didn't particularly want to get caught in the whirlpool of Yalrinn's recitations, but given that she had to be out the door in only a few minutes if she was going to get the kids to school on time, and given that it made her happy to dramatically recite old poetry, and she was trying to be kind to me when I was having a difficult morning, I just smiled at her and let the language flow over me, like water lapping at the shore.
When they left, I carefully prepared another pot of tea.
I pulled out some chilled fruit and cut it into wedges.
I found some small pastries in soft pastel colours, sweet with an underlying tartness I'd come to appreciate, and set them out in a little semi-circle on the plate.
I put everything on the tray. I tidied up. I gathered three cups.
I knew, now, how to do things correctly, and I certainly understood how there could be comfort in ritual.
Even if I hadn't cared for the rituals I'd grown up with, I knew how they got into your blood and bones.
I remembered liking the sacrament, before it became tainted by everything.
Parts of it had seemed like magic; all of it had seemed like nostalgia for something that had happened hundreds of years before I'd even been born in a galaxy I'd never set foot in that still had the ache of an imagined home.
I braced my hands on the side of the counter, looking at the tray I'd prepared.
I'd been thinking, just last night, that Araxis had been trying to make space for me to breathe under the weight of the role I occupied.
I'd thought, here in this very room, that I wanted to do the same for him.
He'd shown up for me when he was exhausted and stood up for me in a way that felt...
impossible. The least I could do now was show up for him, because I was certain that he was going to need something after whatever was happening with Vivith.
Maybe this was how I could help. The language lessons were a great place to start – but what he really needed, I thought, might be a soft place to land. I could do that, at least for today.
I slowly walked down the hallway, tray carefully held in front of me.
I moved to the wall next to the door into the meeting room, listening.
I could still hear the rumble of Araxis speaking, but Vivith had gone silent.
That was as good a sign as any. Balancing the tray on one arm, I reached and rapped my knuckle against the door.
A moment later, it slid open and I tried for a faint smile, looking up at Araxis.
"Tea?" I offered.
He nodded once. "Yes, thank you – but you could take it through to our room, Sashen, if you like. Vivith is about to leave. They have several essential tasks to undertake elsewhere on station."
Vivith, bone white against their dark robes and dark crest, was perfectly still, seated at the table with their hands in their lap, head tipped down, unblinking stare fixed on the table before them.
"Sure," I said, continuing down the hall to our room.
I set the tray on our own table, hastily making the bed – I couldn't believe I hadn't done it when I'd gotten up; then again, I'd been convinced I might need to flee the station and maybe all of Primus territory – and, because waiting was intolerable, I threw myself on the couch and picked up my datapad to go over the dossier Araxis had prepared for me.
I'd barely had time to pull up Creche Hanalthi's entry – very traditional, but not yet affiliated with the Concord; invested heavily in Sozamia Station, particularly security; they contract out security on a number of outposts in the region – before the door into our room slid open and Araxis stepped in.
At once, I was on my feet. "Araxis –" I started.
His shoulders sagged. One hand rose to press hard against his eyes, which were squeezed shut.
"Do not apologize," Araxis said, almost shivering as he stood there in the morning light.
"I had been informed of the arrests. I knew the charges and fines would be aimed to do exactly what they did: force more crecheless into detention centres and then into labour for the houses who contract for these things.
You were right to act, Sashen. Of course I should have.
" His voice grew hoarse, and Araxis turned his back to me, as if he didn't want me to see him.
"What Vivith said, Sashen – How they spoke to you and about you – It is unacceptable.
I want you to know that, and I am – I am addressing it, I swear to you and –"
This was how he needed me, and I was happy to oblige.
I closed the space between us, circling around him so that I stood in front of his hunched form.
I caught one elbow; my other hand went to the hard line of his shoulder.
"It's alright," I said. "That was probably really hard.
And you've been up all night. And we had an early morning yesterday.
And you kept getting groped in Glimmer Ward. "
His hand was still covering his eyes, but he trilled – a wet sound, ragged. "Hm, the groping was not so bad," he tried. "Although it might have been better, depending on who was doing the touching."
I laughed and nudged him a little, back towards the couch. "Come on," I said. "Sit down. Let me pour you some tea. Eat something. Personally, I'm starving."
He sat and I made sure he ate and drank tea, and I perched at his side and I told him about going to Radiant Ward and learning that Celravi had been detained.
I left out so much – I always left out so much – but I told him more than I would have the day before.
He laughed at my impression of Officer Lurjo.
I spoke about Inmadra – although I didn't tell him how I knew her – who worked in salvage, whose hands were always a mess of scrapes and half-healed wounds.
I wondered aloud if that was where Celravi got some of the scrap for her artwork.
"Did you know that crecheless abaya like to live together?
" I asked. I had, entirely by accident, ended up with one arm resting behind him on the couch and was idly tracing my fingers down the length of his braid, feeling the twists and folds, how slippery and firm his quills were beneath my fingertips.
"Thodin said that they're not a creche, but Inmadra still takes care of them.
And – Andiri said, in her final video, that if she died, she'd be happy.
It was better to be dead than crecheless. Is that what most abaya think?"
"Hm." Araxis chewed slowly on one of the wedges of pale fruit I'd prepared, his shoulder leaning against mine as he melted into my touch, eyes half-lidded with a mix of pleasure and exhaustion.
"To most, I would think. To be crecheless is to be without a purpose, a function, an identity.
It is toil without fulfillment. It is survival without belonging.
It makes sense that many crecheless would form their own social groupings, even if it cannot be the same.
A creche is a close social unit; even in a large creche like Creche Athal, the members of each branch will be deeply invested in one another. Is it like that with humans?"
I shrugged. "Maybe some of them." I let my fingers drift to the point of one ear, tracing the cool, pale skin.
Araxis shivered, his eyelids drooping a little more.
"On Seraphim, everything was about the Shepherds.
We didn't belong to each other. We belonged to them and, through them, to our god.
We were tools to be used in the fight against evil and against worldly things like sex and broadcast and dancing. "
"You were not permitted to dance?" he asked, leaning more firmly into my touch with a sigh. "And yet –"
"Yes," I laughed, tempted to slide my hand down to his neck, to palm the soft skin there.
"And yet, there I was. Here I am." Then, because if I didn't, Vivith's words would sit, sour, in my stomach all day, "I'm not lying, Araxis.
I'm not. I do love you and I'm not trying to...
manipulate you. It's just – It's all so complicated.
It's a mess and I don't know how..." I trailed off, unsure how to finish.
How to be with him again? How to love him in a way that didn't hurt me?
How to be what he needed? How to figure out if I wanted to?