Some people just didn’t have it in them to source their own tea– Severin was much too extra for all of that. He collected or grew his own herbs, dried them himself all over his ship.
Which looked exactly how you’d expect a biologist’s ship to look.
Dried herbs, flora samples, potted plants, paintings, journals, scientific equipment, and books strewn throughout it’s entirity in a well designed and maneuverable mess. It was Severin’s safe spot. He brought people to his flat to entertain, but his ship was his sanctuary.
The white-blue hybrid swung his machete in a tight arc, shearing just enough space in a cluster of vines.
He tried to disturb the local wildlife of Selen as little as possible but some places were so overrun it was impossible to not have to clear some of the foliage to tranverse the wilds here.
But– his dessicration led him right to what he was searching for. In a small alcove of trees sat a small shrub with bright green leaves. Severin broke into a wide, fang filled grin. Deycin, a green bitter herb, grew plentiful on temperate planets like Selen.. and made for some amazing tea.
But before he could move, his ears twitched causing his mass of earrings to jingle softly. He picked up a faint sound nearby. Was that… something hyperventilating? The kark?
He lowered his weapon to the ground and slid the backpack off of his shoulder.
“Hello?” he inquired softly, “Whoever or whatever you are, I promise I’m not gonna hurt you. Can you come out and we’ll talk? You don’t have to be scared.”
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The opalescent man received no reply, leaving him to look around in the dense jungle greenery. The sound of hyperventilating breathing, if it was that, cut off abruptly when he spoke, though thanks to his Kessurian heritage, his hearing was sharp enough to detect that it was only muffled.
Following the sound, difficult though it would be to isolate in the jungle cacophony, led him towards a bush quite close to the plant he’d been looking for; and there, a flash. Though there were plenty of bright colors in these environments, true to the fauna and Flora alike, none of them were metallic, and the sun was clearly glinting off something shiny not well hidden in the undergrowth.
Sev tilted his head, blinking a few times. Was… there a person hiding in the brush? The hybrid slowly sat down near the shiny thing, his legs crossed, arms resting in his lap.
“My name’s Severin. Severin Xand. What’s yours?” He had no idea if the person or thing could or would talk back, but he had to at least try, right?
The shiny thing moved when he sat, but not much, just a little jolt that reflected the light. Bright purple, gold, red. When he spoke, there was still no answer, but his patience yielded some result: the continued muffled, panicked breathing, hitching with the tiniest of whimpers, like someone was crying.
.
Severin frowned, not moving from his spot. Did he look intimidating? Sure he probably had some stubble coming in and likely looked like he had just run a mile, but he had been told several times over his life that he had a gentle looking face.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled softly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
With that he pulled a small journal from his pocket.
“I’m gonna sit here and draw for a bit if that’s okay with you? I like to journal the herbs I find before I pick them.” Silence. Of course there was silence. Sev sighed softly, then started drawing away with a mysteriously appearing piece of graphite.
It was a while longer as he sat drawing in the resplendent jungle glade before the crying and breathing started to slow, then even, deliberate in a way as though trying to calm down. Then several minutes later before, after much just very soft breathing and the feeling of being watched occasionally, the bushes rustled.
And out crawled a creature that looked awfully like and nothing like him at the same time.
The waif of a thing was dressed in piles of earthy colors, little matching, hiding much of their frame for the looseness and cinched tight at the waist to stay on them. But the clothes were hardly that drew the eye.
The color. The color. The figure was akin to a field of flowers all its own. Deep, pale lilac skin, daffodil and marigold scales in tiny cluster florets of four, larger petals framing the cheekbone and brow, the back of neck, a gradient from palest to richest blood orange at the top of montrals with short bumps at the front. Saffron eyes peeked barely up at him through shining lashes, very literally shining, glinting with the sunlight that spilled directly on them now. And what he’d thought was some coin or crystal was that; the figure’s hair, reflecting the light with each miniscule movement or brush of the breeze, a kaleidoscope paint spill of violet to crimson to goldenrod.
It was so much that it took a moment to notice the posture, to narrow down dazzling details to a whole picture: a stooping person trembling, a tail wrapped around one leg surely tight enough to obstruct circulation, bright red, faintly gleaming blood coating one visible hand where it pressed flat into the grass and–
They bowed, full to the dirt, to Sev.
Silver eyes watched the being of rainbow colors slowly pull itself from the underbrush. It… reminded him of a sunset. Like the sunsets back at home, when the sun began to slip below the horizon. He would have marveled in the other Kessurian’s (was it a kessurian?) beauty for longer if it weren’t for the telltale signs of starvation the figure showed.
And the bowing.
Severing blinked a few times, snow-white brows drawn together in a mixture of surprise and concern. Why the hell was the person bowing to him of all people? The hybrid closed his journal softly and set it down before offering his hand to it slowly but carefully.
“T-that’s not necessary. I’m just like you. Are you okay? Can I get you any water or maybe some food?”
With their face firmly in the thick jungle grass, they didn’t seem to entirely see the offered hand at first, only a muted flinch indicating they’d noticed motion. Another flinch at speech.
But then a soft voice came, speaking rapidly but with exaggerated pronunciation for ease of understanding at speed and a formal lilt, like a perfect servant might.
“This one is able, Master. It does not require anything. This one apologizes for encroaching on Sir’s activities. It welcomes the punishment.”
Master? Severin dropped his hand, the frown on his angular features only deepening. The Kessurian spoke like some of the slaves he had encountered, some of the people who had been sworn to servitude. A vein in his temple pulsed with the sharp kick of anger he felt in his chest. He had never liked slavers, especially not with the things they did to people or what they turned people into. It was the same reason he fucked over his ex-handler any chance that he got. A person should have their own free will, at least.
“I am no one’s Master,” he stated softly, the gleam of his ice-colored eyes dulled by the sorrow he felt for this person in front of him. He remembered being in a similar position, beaten into the pose by a man much stronger than he.
“I’m barely a person, if I’m being honest. And you didn’t encroach on anything. You got here before me. If anything I interrupted you.”
Severin’s biology insticts kicked in and he lowered himself to the ground as well so that he was laying on his stomach, his pure white chin resting on the dirt, not caring about the grass stains he’d likely have to scrub out of his white shirt later. He tried to get as level with Rue as he could, his hands lax at his sides.
“You didn’t tell me your name. It’d be nice to know the name of the person who walked out of the brush looking like a picturesque sunset.”
The other figure gave a hiccup, something between a whimper being choked down and a startled mrw. The tail that was tucked between his legs and strangling one flicked with something like surprise at the tip. Eyes darted up, saffron framed in petals and wide with confusion and constrained fear.
“Me?” he squeaked, and then immediately slammed his head back down, actually slammed, likely to bruise and bloody on any stray pebbles. “No no, apologies, I– this one means– it–” he hiccuped again, bordering on panic, and once more looked up in search of some cue, some direction, latching on to the only thing resembling an order, reciting in a prompt, clear whisper, “This one’s designation is Experiment: Senth Peth Forn Krill Resh Dorn Twenty Nine Zero Zero Three Four Nine Nine One, Master, Sir. But it is also called Rue.”
A short gasp of an inhale followed, and now that he was looking, it seemed other things were processing: the rejection of the title, the defamation of self, the fact that the opalescent other was on the ground also.
It was so strange yet endearing, striking familiar cords, that Rue lifted up a little more, their faces level now, blatantly staring at the other hybrid. Brows squinched, glittering with sunlight, and so did the tricolor iridescent eyelashes. There was a smear of blood on his forehead, amidst the Kessuiran scales and montrals, but the tiny hole was already closing before Severin’s eyes.
“You are on the ground also,” Rue said, dumbstruck. A mrr of curious confusion, concern, left him.
Curious. Sev watched quietly, still aptly listening, as the hole in this newly introduced “Rue’”‘s forehead. The “Experiment” portion of the designation did not miss his notice either. His brain flipped through some of the previous “research” labs he had busted in the past for experiments on bantha and loth cats, he had seen what people could do to animals. To think the same thing had happened to a person– one of his people, none-the-less –broke his heart.
A soft chuckle escaped his chest at Rue’s confusion. Calloused hands patted the ground, silver scar-like tattoos lining his arms glimmering in the sun that broke through the canopy.
“I wanted to get on your level, show you we are equal. Plus, I’m one for rolling around in the dirt. I study plants, so I find myself in the grime and mud much more than I’d like to admit.”
Hands slid under his chin to support it as his head tilted to one side, the glimmering jewlery there chiming with the movement. The Kessurian-echani seemed to be processing something as well, committing it to memory. His eyes gazed softly over Rue as the cogs spun behind his hues. Pieces of the picture that made up the Kessurian in front of him began to form. Malnurished, the demenor, the way Rue spoke– but also the magnificent colors that made him up, the glimmer of the accent scales that glittered like gold, the patterns of said accent scales.
Art.
“Rue,” he carefully said after a few seconds. “It’s nice to meet you Rue. In case you missed it before, my name’s Severin. You can just call me Sev though. Most people do.”
“…Severin,” Rue tested, the name tripping, lilted, on his tongue. “Severin. Sev.” He tilted his head, catlike, and briefly seemed utterly distracted by the shiny dangly things all over those ears before his attention snapped back. His pose shifted some, mirroring the other man– which revealed a sole hand under his chin, and the flop of an empty sleeve on the other. “Do you wish to be called Sev?”
That seemed to stop the train of thought in Sev’s head. The silverine Kessurian paused, blinking in confusion for a few moments. No one had taken time to ever… ask him that before. He had been called Sev for as long as he could remember. Even his parents called him Sev.
“You know, no one’s ever asked me that. But like Sev, it feels like.. me.”
Ice blue eyes looked at the empty sleeve, then back to glowing features. More pieces, more answers. Anger boiled faintly in his stomach, but he was good at controlling that kind of simmer. The anger at the world for the injustices done to innocents, to lives that either didn’t know any better or couldn’t do anything… or both.
A cautious smile bloomed like a flower opening to the sun on those bloodstained lips, showing straight teeth set with feral, sharp white incisors. It was a tiny smile, but it made the stranger’s face alight, pulling at deep heather freckles and saffron, marigold scales.
“Sev, then,” Rue echoed. “It is nice to meet you, Sev.” His gaze flickered about, darting continuously to Sev’s ears, his hands, their posture, looking for cues as much as fascinated. He bit his lip, and one fang fit neatly in a plush divot ringed in metallic, glinting red. His voice was a tremulous whisper, “You like plants…also?”
“I do,” he responded with a chuckle, his eyes finally leaving Rue to look at the bush he had originally come here for.
“I study plants and other life for a living. I’m an ecobiologist. I like to look at an ecosystem, like this forest here, and see how they all interconnect and rely on each other.”
A soft smile stretched pale lips as he talked about his work, warmth in his eyes. Severin hadn’t expected to like biology so much when Aiddyn paid his way into the Collegium. But from the second he opened his first biology textbook he had known— this is what he wanted.
“I hope to spend the rest of my days making the Galaxy a better, more gentle place. And preserve as much life as possible while doing so.”
Perhaps it was a trick of so much light, but Rue’s eyes seemed to sparkle at Sev in admiration. His smile was growing, and his tail had started to unwind from its choking vice on his leg, his shoulders lifting and loosening.
“That is wonderful,” he said, shuffling, seemingly at a loss for words. “This one is also– yes! Yes yes yes! Biology, medicine, and botany and herbalism and preserving life. Healing. This is also. This one’s…m-my. Hope.”
Seeing Rue come alive was… breathtaking. Gentle features basically coming alight with energy. Severin only allowed himself a moment to stare, quiet, but still with a warm expression on his face.
He loved pulling people from their shells.
Like he had done with Savi.
A soft twinge in his chest caused him to clear his throat and sit up, but he made sure to do so slowly so he wouldn’t spook his newfound friend.
“I came out here to collect a few leaves a clippings from this bush so I could make some tea. Would you like some?”
Rue mimicked Sev, only the smallest flinch, sitting up and smiling fully and brightly now as he tucked a lock of shining hair back behind one swoop of an ear, his braid full of the small leaves and forest detritus of a busy forager.
“This on– I would love that,” he chirped, eyes glimmering with unshed wetness. He followed the gesture to the bush indicated, and his expression took on cast of mingled interest and concern as he looked back. “The ericallia sinesces? Decyin? This one was just chronicling it as well…” He gestured over to the bushes he’d been in, where Sev could spot a journal and bag spilled on the ground. “…it is quite bitter, but spicy. Is Sev experiencing any respiratory illnesses? The roots are too toxic but the stamens and petals are mild pulmonary stimulants…this one– I could heal you. If permitted.”
His ramble cut off abruptly, hand curling tight to his chest for a moment before he offered it, palm up, just an inch; braced for rejection and punishment for such an assumption as needing assistance or being susceptible in any way, for his arrogance and disrespect, but also fully prepared for such punishment if it meant even the shred of possibly assuaging any pain…
.
His heart hurt. He could see it in Rue’s eyes, like animals he had seen before being rescued from abuse. He didn’t let it show, couldn’t let it show, past a soft smile that graced his lips. The Kessurian-echani held a hand up softly, asking for the other Kessurian to wait a moment while he reached down and began unbuttoning his shirt.
“Slightly. I’m coming down with a cold, I think. I’m not used to the humidity of this planet quite yet. I knew that the tea had a kick to it and I wanted to research to see if it would help with the congestion I’ve been feeling, both in my chest and my sinuses.”
His shirt would fall open to reveal a myriad of scars and light musculature– much slimmed down compared to what he once boasted.
Rue nodded abruptly and firmly. “Yes, this one can hear the tissues thing together from the inflammation. Can Sev?” He tilted his head, looking up slightly at the other’s own horns, even as his hand hovered between them, inches from the bared skin of Sev’s pale chest. “This one assumed Sev’s generic code was also majorly Kessurian.”
.