Chapter 14 #2
It looked like any old office with bookshelves, a desk, and a computer. Nothing was locked up, and other than the boom-barriers at the complex entrance, Bryce had seen nothing to note any security. Because they all simply trusted each other.
Picking up a pile of pink fabric from the desk, Zef faced him. “Toa Mau made these for you at my request. I wanted to make them myself, but I did not have the time.”
“They made me Mantodean clothes?” he asked as he took the clothes and unfolded the tunic-like top, and Zef nodded.
The white embroidery was a mastery of artful stitching, creating floral designs and bursts of fireworks. His pants were white, but the stitching there was pink, to match the top. Breathable and light, the fabric slipped over his palm like silk.
“It’s beautiful,” he said.
“Yes. They did a wonderful job.”
“You’ll have to introduce me, so I can thank them. And you too, of course. For making the request. Thanks.”
“You are welcome,” they said as they shut the office door. “Would you like to wear them?”
“Now?” he asked, and Zef nodded. “Sure, but what about you? Where are your clothes?”
They touched their conservative button-up. “I was not sure if you would want to wear the garments, so I dressed in these. I did not want you to feel uncomfortable or out of place in your street clothes.”
His heart flipped inside his chest. “I’d love to wear these, but only if you have special garments too.”
From their purse, they withdrew clothes in the same shade of pink as his, and firecrackers popped in Bryce’s stomach. They were going to match, and it did strange and wonderful things to his heartrate.
“Then I shall change as well,” Zef said, fidgeting with the pink tunic. They watched him expectantly, and it took him an extra second to realize they were waiting for him to turn around and grant them privacy.
“Right,” he blurted, spinning around to face the bookshelf. “I’ll just… get dressed.”
Feeling a tad awkward, he shrugged off his coat, then his flannel. Keeping his undershirt on, he slipped the silky tunic over his head and wriggled, relieved when he met only the barest hint of resistance. It hung loosely, but in a purposeful, stylish way.
Fabric swished behind him, and he blushed hotly as he fully realized that he and Zef were… undressing together. In the same room.
He shook off the stupid embarrassment. Zef wasn’t peeking, and he wouldn’t either—no matter how much that tiny voice in the back of his brain encouraged him to.
His belt clinked as he dropped his jeans and stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. The pants were just as loose and breezy as the top, and he tied them securely to ensure they wouldn’t fall off. He didn’t want to scar any hatchlings with his thick, hairy human thighs.
“Are you, uh, done?” Bryce asked, and when they replied affirmatively, he turned around. “Do these button all the way up?”
He looked up from the buttons on the front of his tunic and inhaled sharply. The soft pink was so pretty against Zef’s skin, and while they wore the same tunic-and-pants combo, it looked natural and beautiful on them. Bryce had a feeling he looked like a stuffed pink pinata.
Judging from the way Zef was staring at him though, maybe he didn’t look as silly as he felt.
Their small teeth captured their bottom lip as their wings flared wide, vibrating loudly for a moment.
A soft whistle escaped them, and a rush of darker green flooded their cheeks as they stepped toward him.
Slowly, their top hands rose and started fastening the five buttons at the front of his tunic, ensuring they didn’t touch his skin. Their lower hands tugged and smoothed the fabric at his side, a barely-there pressure. All the while, that thrumming, whistling sound vibrated in their throat.
All at once, the office felt too small, and Bryce studied Zef’s face as they secured the final button at the base of his throat. “Does it look okay?” he asked, and why the heck was he whispering?
Releasing their bottom lip, Zef lifted their gaze to meet his, their compound eyes unnervingly large this close. “Yes. You look lovely.”
Lovely. What a strange word choice. It felt too delicate, too pretty to describe him, even in these beautiful clothes. If anything, Zef was the lovely one.
“So do you,” he said, and their cheeks darkened even more.
“Thank you.”
After they’d gathered and folded their clothes, along with Bryce’s, they left them and their purse on Toa Sian’s desk. Practically skipping ahead of him, Zef urged him to follow, and their excitement was infectious.
Behind the A-frame, a vast communal garden stretched at least an acre, if not more. Zef showed him some of the vegetation, explaining the names of the vegetables and the human equivalent if they knew it. They didn’t travel too far into the fields, though.
Instead, they led him around the other side where there were outdoor games set up. Zef taught him one they called shulah, where he had to slide wooden pucks down a smooth, wooden board to the end where he had to sink them into one of five nets, all of which were separated by arches.
Like billiards meeting shuffleboard, Bryce had to aim and hope they didn’t bounce off the columns of the arches. A group of children between the ages of eight and twelve gathered around to watch—and laugh—as he failed miserably. Zef, of course, was great at it, and they wiped the floor with him.
They played another game that reminded him of croquet, though the mallets they used to hit the balls were wide and flat.
The rules were a little different, but he did much better with that one.
Curious Mantodeas hovered around him, watching with rapt attention as the hatchlings forced him to play a balancing game, where he had to walk a plank with a bowl of water in each hand.
He spilled, and the children clapped and giggled at his expense.
As two hatchlings braided Zef’s hair, one whistled at Bryce and pointed to the ground. Bryce sat crisscross applesauce as the child proceeded to add short, stubby braids to his beard and hair. The other children watched, but most seemed too scared to join in.
The hatchling clicked and chirruped at him, carrying on a conversation he couldn’t understand. He sat and listened, smiling at Zef the whole time.
“I’m Bryce,” he told the hatchling when they’d finished the final braid in this beard. He patted his chest. “Bryce.”
They cocked their head. “Bryce,” they repeated awkwardly.
A ripple of “Bryce, Bryce, Bryce,” swept through the kids watching—and even some of the adults—and he nodded.
“Nice to meet you,” he said slowly.
With a whistle, the kid bowed at him, then, giggling excitedly, they scurried off with the other children, disappearing into the crowd.
“Thanks,” he called after them as he inspected the beard braids in his phone camera.
“A true Mantodea,” Zef said as they sat down beside him.
“I’m on my way,” he said, turning the camera so they were in the shot too.
Smiling wide and a little bashful, Zef leaned in, their head brushing Bryce’s temple. He snapped the picture, then a few more. He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, making Zef laugh, and he captured that, too, on film.
“Come on. Look ugly with me,” Bryce challenged, pressing his chin to his chest to exaggerate his double chin.
Flustered and blushing, Zef did the same, and Bryce took the picture of their double chins.
Then he made a snarling face, and Zef puffed out their cheeks.
They proceeded to take numerous ugly selfies until Zef was full-belly laughing into their hands, and Lord as his witness, he’d never heard anything so adorable.
A sharp whistle cut through the air, and everyone, including the children, all stopped what they were doing and headed toward the front of the A-frame. Zef rose and brushed the grass off their pants, so Bryce did the same.
“What’s happening now?”
“The ceremony. This festival, it is a celebration, but also a remembrance. Of our ancestors, of those who came before but have now passed on. And then looking forward to new life, new beginnings.” Brushing something off Bryce’s shoulder, they smiled up at him.
“This you may observe, but not take part. Stay seated, and stay silent. Do not interrupt.”
“That’s ominous,” he said, and Zef smirked, sending him a playful wink.
At the front of the A-frame, between the entrance and the community garden, three bowls had been placed on three iron pillars. Zef led him past them, close enough he could look inside. Sand. Water. Burning coals.
“The sand, to represent the past. Water, flowing and life-giving, as the present. And fire, for the uncertainty of the future, while acknowledging that in the end, every flame burns out,” they explained.
“What are they for?” he asked.
“You will see,” they said mysteriously, and he tugged on the end of a small braid.
They sat close to the front near Toa Sian.
An old Mantodea with stooped shoulders and wrinkled skin stood before the bowls, arms spread as they addressed the gathering, everyone taking their seats at the many tables.
Food had already been set out, a spread of vegetarian dishes made in all manners of ways.
The warm dishes rested on metal plates with little flames underneath to keep them hot.
No one ate, though. They watched the speaker with attentive respect, even the children.
The smallest hatchlings cried every so often, and they were passed from adult to adult with no hint at who the birth parent might have been.
Even Zef helped, taking a fussy toddler from a tired looking parent across from them.
They trilled deep in their chest, like a cricket chirping, as they rocked the baby in their lap.
Since Bryce couldn’t understand the speaker, he entertained himself by playing peek-a-boo with the toddler, but it seemed even Mantodea babies were stoic.
They barely cracked a smile at him, staring at him with unblinking, white eyes.
As if Bryce’s interactions with the toddler had communicated something, Zef handed him the baby. With an awkward noise of alarm, he accepted the eerily serious child, grimacing down at them as they stared blankly up at him, like even at their young age, they were already over this shit.
“You and me both, kid,” Bryce muttered as he balanced the toddler on his knee and gently bounced them.
When the speaker concluded their speech, a drum beat started, a steady cadence that echoed in the twilight.
A low hum rose from the Mantodeas in the gathering, like bees swarming in a hive.
The speaker lifted an ancient-looking knife and pressed the tip to their thumb until purple blood welled and trickled to the heel of the hand.
They chanted melodically as they held their bleeding hand over the bowl of sand.
The hum grew louder as a second drum joined the first, a similar rhythm but more beats, adding intensity.
The bees were under Bryce’s skin now, and his breathing quickened.
A shrill ululation sounded from the group, making him jump, but no one else was alarmed.
If anything, it amped the tension higher.
Blood dripped into the water next, and another yipping cry echoed as the hum grew.
Mantodeas were clicking now, a near threatening sound that set Bryce’s teeth on edge.
Goosebumps exploded over his skin as the elder chanted louder, and he was suddenly grateful for the baby in his lap.
He hugged the toddler close in comfort as the hum rose to a buzz.
As the blood dripped on the coals, it smoked, but Bryce couldn’t hear the sizzle over the bees roaring in his skull.
Ululations and cries echoed one after another from the crowd.
Even Zef threw their head back, releasing a piercing wail into the sky.
The cacophony rose as the elder chanted louder, until they lifted their bloody hand with a shout, and every sound fell away at once.
The silence was deafening.
Everyone was breathing hard, chests heaving with emotion, faces lifted to the sky. Bryce was the only one with his eyes open, staring in awe and, sure, some honest-to-God terror. Then, as if they all had come to a silent agreement, everyone breathed deeply, then exhaled as one.
Opening their eyes, the elder spoke, and nearly everyone in the crowd echoed the words back to them. Then the speaker bowed, placed the knife back on the metal pillar, and accepted a scrap of white cloth from the Mantodea who had started the drum beat, bandaging their thumb.
As if the spell was broken, everyone started moving and talking at once, dishing food onto plates and serving the elderly and children first. Zef met Bryce’s wary gaze, their skin flushed from the intensity.
“Are you alright?” they asked, and Bryce nodded mutely.
He must have been holding the baby too tight because it squirmed and complained, and Zef took it from his hold, offering it to another. Then they scooted their chair closer to him and pressed two fingers to his biceps.
“You look frightened.”
“Yeah,” he croaked, clearly his throat. “That was, uh, intense.”
“Yes,” Zef agreed.
“You could have warned me.”
They grimaced in apology. “Some things are better experienced than explained.”
“I guess. Can you explain now?”
“It is a ritual to honor the ancestors, to celebrate the present—all we have been given and all we have created—and to look to the future with acceptance and courage,” they said.
“The elder’s blood is symbolic of the whole, connecting all of us to what came before, to the now, to what is to come.
It is grieving those we have lost and being grateful for those still with us and expressing our joy of the new ones yet to join.
We chant and we shout, so the ancestors can hear our song. ”
Rubbing the goosebumps from his arms, Bryce blew out a heavy breath. “Not gonna lie, that might have scared the crap out of me a little bit.”
“Yes, well, that is what the wine is for,” Zef said teasingly, handing Bryce a full goblet.
“Oh, so this is when the real party starts, huh? After you scare your guests half to death?” He took the wine gratefully, taking a hesitant sip. It was surprisingly sweet, and he took another, healthier gulp.
With a snicker, Zef tipped their cup back and took a drink. “Yes. First the fear. Then the food. Then the dancing.”
“Dancing? Oh Lord, I got two left feet.”
“I have never noticed that abnormality,” they said with a frown, and he swallowed his laugh.
“No, I mean that I can’t dance. Bull in a china shop, remember?”
“Ah. Well then,” they said as they clinked their glass against his, something playful and maybe even a little dangerous flashing in their eyes, “I suggest you follow my lead.”