Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
The Mantodea Colony
Bryce
As they rode the tram across Envy district to the Mantodea Colony, Bryce’s leg bounced with nerves. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it until the pressure of a feather-light hand came to rest on his thigh, right above his knee. Zef’s top left hand. Holy cow, they were touching him again.
The touch stilled the bouncing, but it sent his nerves swarming from his chest down to his stomach.
From the corner of his eye, he peeked at the Mantodea beside him.
Zef was looking out the window, their chin resting in their top right hand, their lower hands clasped in their lap.
And they were touching him. Like it was nothing.
Sure, it was only the pads of their fingers above his knee, but it was still happening! Which meant something, right? It had to mean something. Bryce just wasn’t sure what.
According to their agreement for transparency, he should tell Zef what he was thinking.
Or at least, ask them what they were thinking.
But that would lead to them removing their hand from his leg, and he didn’t want that.
He liked the subtle, innocent affection, and he didn’t want to waste the moment by overanalyzing.
Zef was comfortable enough with him to touch him, however brief or small, and that could be enough.
For now, at least.
Their hand moved away after nearly a full minute, and while Bryce mourned the loss, he didn’t let it show on his face.
“You could start bouncing your leg again,” his traitorous brain suggested, and no lie, he considered it.
Before he could make a choice, one way or the other, the tram pulled to a stop, and Zef stood, urging Bryce to do the same.
They stepped onto the sidewalk and into the chilly, early-April wind.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from the Mantodea Colony, but he was still surprised to see an open entrance, barred only by boom-barriers.
They were raised up, allowing vehicles and pedestrians to pass through unimpeded, but he imagined they lowered at night for security. A small guard post was stationed to the right of the entrance, but it was unmanned. This, too, Bryce assumed would be occupied during the nighttime hours.
He followed Zef through the entrance, doing his best to not look like a tourist as he absorbed everything happening around him.
At first, it looked like every other neighborhood, houses of varying sizes with lawns and gardens in the front.
Children ran around outside, playing and laughing as their little Mantodea wings fluttered behind their backs.
He spotted a few other species, most of them Insektyds like Zef.
There were Rhopas with their colorful butterfly wings, and Coccyns with their red and black polka dot skin patterns, so similar to ladybugs.
A Lepid with their dusty moth wings chased a group of hatchlings, speaking in Hellia as the kids shrieked in laughter. Families and friends gathered on porches and stopped in the street to chat. A community filled with species so unlike Bryce, yet so familiar.
Some people greeted Zef in passing, with a wave or a word, and they would return it, dipping their chin in deference. Few people stopped them to engage in conversations full of clicking and chirping sounds, but when it happened, Zef indulged them.
Like he was surrounded by cicadas or singing crickets, Bryce observed, only entering the conversation when Zef would switch to English and introduce him.
“This is my dear friend, Bryce,” they’d say, and heck, if that didn’t make his chest swell.
A few months ago, he’d been Zef’s roommate. Now, he was their dear friend. He had to fight the insane urge to fist-pump the air in victory.
Instead, he bowed, deeper than what was probably necessary, but since he didn’t know anyone’s social status or age, he wanted to err on the side of caution. Then he’d say, “Hello, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Hello,” some said.
“Welcome,” others said.
“How nice that you are here,” one Mantodea said in an airy voice similar to Zef’s.
Not to sound speciesist, but they all sounded similar to Zef in that regard.
Stiff and proper, voices high and little reedy.
Their accents were thicker than Zef’s though, their speech cadence more choppy, like they were unaccustomed to speaking English.
Or perhaps Zef was simply more traveled than they were, having accepted colloquial influence from their friends at work.
As they neared the center, the residential homes melted into small businesses, like their own little town. Bodegas and eateries, an ice cream shop and a hairdresser. At the end of the street rose a large A-frame building with many windows. The town hall, if Bryce had to guess.
Flags and streamers stretched over the grounds, tied off at light posts and trees.
Rows and rows of folding tables flanked by chairs filled the pavement in front of the A-frame, like the biggest family picnic Bryce had ever seen.
A band played wooden string and wind instruments as several members sang, Hellian words mixed with those chirps and clicks.
And there were people everywhere. Mantodeas of all different sizes and shades of green. Children dressed in colorful tunic-like clothing. Even some of the adults were dressed that way, though not all.
“Traditional Mantodean garments,” Zef explained when Bryce asked.
A particularly tall Mantodea with peridot skin and white hair, just like Zef, strode toward them, gently reprimanding a gaggle of kids who were getting too rowdy near the tables.
They wore the traditional Mantodean garments in royal purple, and their hair was braided intricately, styled in a half-up-do.
They stretched out their top hands, and Zef chirped deep in their throat as they walked to meet them.
The two Mantodeas met in the middle, hands resting on shoulders and waists and necks.
They didn’t embrace, but their foreheads met, eyes closing as their wings hummed back and forth to each other, their antennas tangling.
No words were exchanged at first, not even in their insectoid language.
Then they parted, and the Mantodea said, “Zefryn. How are you, koa?”
“I am well, Toa. And you?” Zef said.
“Happier than a few minutes ago, now that I see you.”
Okay, Bryce recognized the title, Toa. It meant parent, though it was used when addressing any adult of a similar age or standing as a birth parent. Because Mantodeas were community-oriented and child-rearing was a shared responsibility. So all hatchlings were koa—or child—and all adults were Toa.
But judging from their similar appearance and the intimacy in which they touched each other, Bryce was pretty sure this was Zef’s progenitor.
“Come,” Zef said, tugging gently on the other Mantodea’s wrist. “This is my dear friend, Bryce.”
Another fist-pump moment, but Bryce locked that down.
“Bryce, this is Toa Sian, my progenitor.”
Toa Sian folded their lower arms behind their back, leaving one of their top hands in Zef’s grasp as they placed the other over their heart. Then they inclined their head. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Bryce. Welcome to the Pentagram Mantodea Colony.”
Bryce bowed deeply, not only because they were older and Zef’s progenitor, but because they were an honored member of the community. From his understanding, they ranked somewhere around mayoral-status, highly respected and important. So he bowed until he was nearly at a right angle.
“Toa Sian, it’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for extending me an invitation to your festival.”
“It is not my festival,” they said, sounding slightly amused. “It is a festival for all of our community.”
Okay, apparently taking things literally was a Mantodean thing, not just a Zef thing.
“Right.” He straightened and copied their stance, hands behind his back like he was a soldier standing at ease. “Still, I’m very grateful to be here and experience this with my”—he smiled at Zef—“dear friend, Zef.”
With a sharp inhale, Zef fluttered their wings, and their antennas danced. Toa Sian glanced between them briefly before settling their opaque stare on him. It wasn’t judgmental, but it was measuring. Bryce held his head high, refusing to wither, even if he wanted to. Just a little.
Their expression barely changed, but there was a slight uptick to their mouth Bryce took to mean that he had passed the test. A cock to their head, Zef looked between him and their progenitor, thin brows furrowed in confusion.
“Toa?” they asked.
“You are so very welcome, Bryce,” Toa Sian said, and both he and Zef relaxed.
“Thank you. I am very much looking forward to observing.”
“You may partake,” they said, sounding amused again. “I am sure Zefryn will—how do you humans say it? Show you the strings?”
Under normal circumstances, Bryce might have corrected the verbal trip, but since he wanted to make a good impression, he nodded. “Yup, that’s what us humans say. All the time.”
Like they knew he was lying, Zef arched a brow at him, but they didn’t dispute his claim. “Indeed.”
“Well, I leave you in Zefryn’s capable hands,” Toa Sian said as they pressed a palm to Zef’s cheek. “What you requested is in my office.”
As Toa Sian left to greet another familial group, Zef stepped closer to Bryce and gestured for him to follow them. He did, and they passed the merry band of musicians, garnering more than a few curious stares that Zef either didn’t notice or preferred to ignore.
“This the common house,” Zef said, leading him into the A-frame. “Our elders work here and hold meetings to hear concerns and the needs of the community. It is also open to the public to be used for events or gatherings. Or simply a place for friends to come together.”
“Community center,” Bryce said, and they nodded.
“Exactly. Come, Toa Sian left something for us in their office,” they said, wings fluttering in excitement as they led him toward the back and into one of the office rooms.