S.O.S. [Daglobster] [M]

[DragonSong]

Ala'oran ships were a miracle of living technology. Like the species that created them, the ships were every so slightly telepathic, and learned their pilots' thoughts and impulses like an old friend would. Almost every surface of the control panel was touch-sensitive, meaning that just a few taps could set coordinates, adjust life support settings, and send a ripple of color through the biotech-luminescent outer hull all at once.

Even the smaller, personal transport crafts were really quite magnificent: Maya's in particular was quite lovely, if she did say so herself, sort of oblong in general shape but with flexible, finned wings and a curved little snub nose so the general shape of it was oddly reminiscent of a manta ray. A flying, bio-luminescent manta ray.

She always seemed to get dozens of questions about her ship pretty much everywhere she put in to port. She'd grown quite proud of it with each new explanation she had to give, and sometimes she thought that when she passed a hand over the touch-panel she could feel a happy little hum in response to the presence of her mind brushing against the ship's internal hardware.

But unfortunately, it needed fuel just like any other ship.

Fuel that she'd been forced to burn in a desperate chase from some unmarked ship--probably pirates, which she'd never had to deal with before and hoped she never would again.

The young spacer frowned as she pressed her palm lightly onto the touch-pad directly in front of the pilot's chair, getting a feel for how much fuel they had left.

Not a lot.

Okay. How close was the nearest planet? Or even a small station, anywhere she could refuel?

...Too far.

Fuck. Maya usually wasn't much for actual words, but she'd learned that one pretty early in her travels and had found it to be quite versatile. Fuck fuck FUCK!

Her ship buzzed and whined, a pulse of blueish green light flashing from bow to stern. The elegant wings rippled through the void, automatically curving them back around a few clicks as her telepathic control shorted and jumped around, confusing the navigation system.

A soft ding and a flickering yellow light above the viewing panel caught her attention. Her eyes widened as she realized the ship had set off its distress signal on its own. She hadn't even realized she was thinking about doing that.

A tiny, relieved smile curved at her lips and she patted the control panel lightly, sending a pulse of gratitude and what she hoped was reassurance from her thoughts.

Okay. This would be okay. They just had to be picked up before their fuel was burned out completely and her life support systems shut off. In about...

Six hours.

This was fine.

[Daglobster]

“No, you listen to me,” Elaros snarled into his communicator. He was leaning forwards over his desk, hands planted on the wood as he looked out of his office’s window and into the nebula that the Anastasia was cruising through. Nothing cut through space quite like a Drakkonan starliner and despite her size she made blockade runner ships look clunky by comparison.

“I needed those Vellamite gems three cycles ago. The last time I bought from you, I needed them plasma treated and they came brittle, for goodness’ sake. If you’re not going to deliver correctly on time, I’ll find someone else. You’ve got...”

He looked down at his watch.

“Sixteen standard hours to make me change my mind. No excuses, no brittle Vellamite.”

He hung up, and sighed as he watched the red and green swirls of star-stuff zoom by. And here he was, thinking he could enjoy a quick skip across uncharted space to hop between two trafficked routes, take in a view and smoked a fat one as the stars passed by...

But now his mood was soured. He looked up at the cieling.

“Ana, is the pool heated right now?”

“The pool is three degrees below your preferred temperature, Master Elaros,” said an attractive sounding voice, the ship’s on-board voice interface.

“Start heating it for use in an hour, he said, dropping onto his armchair behind his desk and opening a small drawer that had a jar of perfectly rolled cigarette joints and pulled one out.

“And send for a lighter, would you?”


Four hours later...

Elaros floated on his back, awestruck by the view through the pool chamber’s cieling window. His pool was probably big enough to hold sporting events in, if not for its circular shape. He was watching the stars zoom by during their FTL jump to the next waypoint. The ship came to a slow stop as it entered their next stop’s gravity well and Elaros only smiled as it made him jostle about on the water’s surface.

The speaker in the room buzzed and a growling, deeper-voiced drakkonan addressed Elaros. “Master, this is your captain. There is an active distress pulse in the system we’re approaching.”

Elaros frowned, and turned about in the water so he could swim to the pool’s edge and prop up on his elbows and forearms. “Sensors?”

“One ship. We can’t get an exact fix, our sensors are having a tough time picking through a static cloud around it,” came the captain’s voice. Elaros was quiet, and then spoke.

“Take us in right over them, keep the shockdrive jumpers active, in case we need them.”

And so, as they slowed down from hyperspeed Maya would he greeted with the sight of a ship the size of a military corvette come zooming into the system faster than the eye could see only to delicately slow down and stop until they were separated by a half-mile of empty space.

[DragonSong]

Maya jolted in surprise as the massive ship suddenly filled the viewing panel, and with how closely she was tied to the ship telepathically her poor machine did too, jerking backwards a few dozen yards in a series of short, sharp hops.

But surprise quickly gave way to swamping relief, and Maya lunged forward to flick her comms system on, eyes darting to the fuel readout as she did.

Less than an hour left. Literally in the final hour her rescue appeared.

Of course, that was assuming the strange ship actually helped her. She didn't recognize the make or model of it, but she had to believe it was official in some capacity. No pirates or black market smugglers could afford to use a ship that big--of course, she didn't think most governments in the solar systems would bother with one so extravagant.

Ultimately it didn't matter. That ship was her only hope.

Comms up and running, the ala'ora twisted her chair to the holographic screen that flared to life and held two fingers against the panel that activated the connection until she saw the link flash green at the bottom of her screen. Alright, they were connected; she could really only hope someone over there was actually watching and would tune in to the call.

With another Ala'oran vessel she could have simply sent a thought recording for communication. Most other species in the galaxy probably would have transmitted a video call. Since she didn't exactly have either of those options, she had to settle for smiling and waving at the screen, but sending her message in simple text scrolling along the bottom of the video.

Eyes on the screen, she started typing quickly, fingers flying over the keyboard: Ship stalled. Running out of fuel. Less than an hour of life support left. Please help.

Even as she typed she continued watching the screen, desperately hoping that someone would pick up the call. For now, it was on a loop, until someone on the other ship accepted the connection.

[Daglobster]

"We're here, Master Elaros," came the captain's voice again, and by that point Elaros had already put a silky, bearsloth fur bathrobe on and grabbed his joint and his drink before making his way over to the ship's bridge, putting his small, circular sunglasses back on. Ugh, as if the day couldn't get any longer...

He stepped into the central elevator and rose up to the ship's bridge on deck #1 of twenty-five, and stepped out onto a bustling bridge. It had two tiers, with the captain's chair, navigation, and sensors station above while a pair of squat stairways led down to the stations in charge of communications, engines, weaponry/shields, and system overview. All the crew wore matching green shirts and jumpsuit pants that stayed tight and covered everything except the neck and left space for the tail.

They'd come out of FTL at a level angle with Maya's ship, and he walked to the edge of the bridge so he could peer out over to the other vessel. He squinted his eyes. Was that a ship? The angles reminded him of a dolphin or some other streamlined sea-creature but the shine of the metal was undeniable.

What a curious vessel...

"No other ships, not even traces. I think it's real beacon," was announced from the sensors station, and the captain nodded. Elaros' captain was a aged, red-scaled Low Drakkon by the name of Ferdix, and while it was uncommon for one of his station and breeding to command such a large and important vessel, Elaros hired on merit and nothing else.

As he walked back up the stairs, Captain Ferdix was already watching her distress message. Elaros came and leaned in to see as well, placing an arm on the head of Ferdix's seat.

"No fuel? Easy," Elaros said, and before Ferdix could tell him something important Elaros was patting him on the shoulder.

"Use the umbilical and give that cute alien girl all the fuel she needs, I'm sure her whole ship can fit in one of our two fuel tanks," he said, and as he walked away, grinning to himself and fishing his plasma lighter out of his bathrobe's pocket Ferdix cleared his throat. Elaros stopped.

"The umbilical's still damaged from yesterday, Master Elaros," Ferdix said. Elaros nodded. Yes, of course it wasn't fixed yet. One measly little rogue asteroid...

"Well then what are you waiting for? Put her through," he said, and he started lighting his joint and walking back towards Ferdix.

Ferdix nodded. "You heard him. Comms, open a channel. Just my screen, please."

And just like that, they were patching through to her screen. She'd get a lovely view of Captain Ferdix trying his best to look all military and professional in his seat while Elaros was leaning in from the side, looked like a Net-Celeb straight off the cover of a magazine. He puffed some smoke out of his nostrils, joint held in his teeth and drink set down on Ferdix's console. 

As a High Drakkon, he stood at around six-foot-six, roughly two feet taller than Ferdix and with a wider, more muscled and human-like build, whereas Ferdix had a more reptilian curve to his spine and thinner, less impressive jaws and teeth. It was like the difference between a gecko and a komodo dragon, although they were both covered in dragon-like scales, with Elaros' being more pronounced.

They both had a rather pronounced reptilian accent, but Elaros' Common was much better.

"Hello hello, are you recieving, stranger?" Elaros said, and he waved a clawed hand. Then, Ferdix spoke up.

"You're in contact with the DVS Anastasia and we hear your situation." he started.

"Are your engines functional?"

[DragonSong]

[Just an FYI, if it's of interest, if you've ever seen "The Abyss", the alien ships in that are roughly what I'm basing Ala'oran tech on ^.^]


The roughly three minutes that it took for her message to be patched through felt like an eternity. Maya worried at her lower lip, the delicate points of her sharp canines dangerously close to pricking the skin and drawing blood.

Then the screen flashed, beeped, and the view of her own message changed to an image of two...two creatures, she assumed officials on the massive ship, though she'd never seen one of their species before. The smaller one held himself quite professionally, but the larger seemed almost surprisingly at ease, relaxed.

Not quite sure whose cue she should take, Maya glanced between the two of them, then settled for reaching up to brush a handful of powder blue braids back behind one ear and sitting up a little straighter as she reached out to type again.

Engines functional. All systems operational, but running on residual fuel.

She flicked her eyes up to the screen again, hoping they could read the near desperation in her face. It was so odd not to be able to communicate through touch--she had no idea what they might be thinking, how they might be reacting to her.

I can pay for a refuel, or even a tow to the nearest station. She didn't have much in the way of money, but she was sure she could figure something out.

Please. Her eyes flicked to the systems' readout, then back to the video screen. My life support is down to twenty minutes.

[Daglobster]

[so basically the coolest flying saucer ever got it!]

The two Drakkonans looked at each other, and there was a moment of silent deliberation before Elaros nodded and Ferdix acknowledged. He pressed a few buttons and The Anastasia started to drift upwards and started to fly over Maya’s ship, casting its shadow over her. An opening about twice the size of Maya’s vessel opened on the bottom, a hangar protected from the vaccuum by a shield that ships could pass through.

“Unnamed vessel, we are opening our ventral hangar for you, dock inside,” he said, and Elaros left the camera’s view.

“See you there!” His voice came. Ferdix looked back to the screen.

“Unnamed vessel, do you copy?”


Elaros hopped back into the elvator, and it was only when he was halfway down to the ventral hangar did he realize he forgot his drink. Oh well, Ferdix could have it.

He stepped out and walked past the guards and technicians that populated the lower deck hallways and towards one of the Anastasia’s three hangars. This one held his personal shuttle, and there was space on the opposite side for Maya’s ship to touch down.

Ground crew were mobilizing and getting ready to guide Maya’s ship in.

[DragonSong]

They just looked at each other, silent. Maya felt her stomach clench, her heart jumping up into her throat. They wouldn't just leave her there would they? They had to know that was a death sentence--no matter what The Anatasia was, they wouldn't just leave her out here...

The confirmation took a moment to sink in, and she simply stared at the screen with wide golden eyes. Then she all but threw herself across the console to slam her thrusters, typing frantically with the other hand: Copy, copy, copy.

The engine groaned softly, and for a moment she thought the ship might not move at all. Then the fins rolled gently and they surged upward in a graceful arc. Maya had never been so grateful for semi-telepathic controls; she just had to give the ship a flicker of thought and it maneuvered into the hangar almost entirely on its own.

Maya sagged back in her chair, shaking hands covering her face for a moment as relief swamped through her. She didn't even remember that the video was still transmitting for a few moments, and when she did her cheeks flushed from lavender to dusky purple. Sitting upright again, she tapped a few buttons and typed, Thank you. Captain of the Mirage signing off.

Her ship--the Mirage, an impulsive name she'd picked a few years ago--was guided safely and easily into a docking port. She could see ground crew moving around through one of the portholes as she scrambled to her feet and made for the main outer door of the ship. Laying her hand against the data pad was all it took to unlock the door, which slid open with a pneumatic hiss as the Mirage adjusted to the change in pressure.

Maya stood in the doorway as the gently glowing panel lifted up and looked around, wide-eyed.

[Daglobster]

“Good copy, Mirage. The Master will welcome you in the hangar bay.”

With that, the connection was terminated and Ferdix returned to his duties, sighing. The guest was Elaros’ responsibility now. He had an FTL course to plot.

The hangar and service crews watched in awe as the single most enchanting ship they’d ever seen fluttered up into the hangar, more delicate and precise than any VTOL craft or nimble space probe could hope to be. The Mirage fit right in with the luxurious hangar

The wonder was only momentary, because shortly after Drakkons with scanners approached her ships, found the service ports, and started readying hoses of fuel and coolant, while others started going over the hull with wide, faint laser sweepers that left the metal looking shiny and new. It seemed she was getting all the service she needed and more.

Elaros had entered just in time to see her shimmering vessel touch down, and when she was peeking out of the doorway he was approaching slowly, looking up at her ship.

“What a landing. You’ve got skills,” he said, breathing out some more smoke through his nostrils. He loved the shape! It was interesting enough to inspire his creative side and fanciful thoughts of new jewelery designs came filtering in.

He stood at the base of the doorway, looking up the boarding stairs towards her.

“And I can’t believe that we got here just in time. We were taking a shortcut through this system and Captain Ferdix told me they picked you up on the long-range sensors,” he said.

He held a hand out for a shake.

“I’m Elaros K’Rvain, maybe you’ve heard my name? I own this vessel.”

[DragonSong]

Oh boy.

That was a lot of people working on her ship.

They all seemed to be of the same species, like the captain and the pilot, which she noted with vague interest. Of course, her focus was really on the Mirage and the flurry of activity surrounding her—it was taking more effort than she would have liked not to fret like a mother hen.

Contenting herself with laying a hand briefly against the biotech-luminescence of the outer hull and giving the ship a pulse of gratitude and reassurance, she turned to face her rescuer.

An automatic smile lit her face; it was one of the few natural ala’oran expressions that she’d found could be almost universally understood. Nodding along as he spoke, she tried to look appropriately grateful and interested—which she was, but of course couldn’t vocalize.

Thankfully, he held out his hand to shake, and she took it eagerly. The moment her fingers touched his a sense of greeting and deep relief flooded from her mind to his, followed by immense gratitude.

I am very lucky you came along, she thought, the words carefully articulated and accompanied again by that sense of relief at her near miraculous rescue. Truly, I am in your debt. My name is Maya. Her smiled turned a little dry and she added with a pulse of slight self-deprivation mixed with strange pride for her ship, Truthfully the Mirage managed most of that landing herself. I was just the passenger.

Each phrase was as much emotion and sensory information as it was words, but her name was a little different: given first in the language of her own people, a sensory image with the attached emotion, and only followed by the word a few moments later.

Keeping her grip on his hand, she continued, I am new to this sector of the galaxy—I am afraid I have not heard your name before, sir, but I will remember it.

Finally, she dropped his hand. She could only hope the prolonged contact hadn’t been overstepping her bounds, as she really had no other way of communicating. She’d learned that many species in the galaxy were uncomfortable with ala’oran “speech”, often overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information that could be transmitted with a brush of fingertips, but she hoped that this Elaros would not think her rude for it.

[Daglobster]

Elaros observed as she came down the stairs. Well, she didn't say much, but she was beautiful, he'd never seen anything like her! He supposed that there had to be some quiet types out there in that loud galaxy, and after today he certainly wasn't complaining.

He took her hand to shake and his eyes immediately widened, reptilian slit pupils widening to near ovals as images and emotions and sensations all washed over him like a gentle bath. His jaw slackened a bit and he somehow tensed and relaxed at the same time. His joint fell out of his mouth and against the metal floor.

He regained himself a little when she paused and it gave him the moment he needed to realize that no, he wasn't tripping out. She was talking to him with her mind?

And then she was speaking again, her own mental presence causing his thoughts to pause while she spoke. It was over again as soon as it started and Elaros breathed out. Joint completely forgotten, he let out a breathless chuckle.

He'd never felt anything so intense, so... intimate. The fact that he could still feel a pang of pride for a ship he didn't even know... It was incredible!

"Oh, well it's not the worst sector. Plenty of planets here , lots of things to do," he said with an airy twirl of his hand.

"I'm a local businessman, you could say. This is my ship, The Anastasia, and it is my absolute pleasure to have you aboard, Maya," he said, and conspicuously offered her his hand again, if she wanted to reply, even as he stepped back and motioned for her to follow along.

Indeed, rather than finding it rude, he found her way of speech to be quite intriguing.

"And I must say, I've never been spoken to like that before, it felt... tingly. You didn't hear any of my thoughts, did you?"

[DragonSong]

Maya tensed, nervous, when he seemed so blindsided by her method of communication. But then he’d chuckled quietly and she relaxed, a small smile curving at her lips.

When he stepped back and beckoned for her to follow, she took a few quick steps to bring herself up beside him and reached out to brush her fingertips against his palm, fascinated by the texture of scales.

I cannot, unless you have some psychic ability yourself and actively seek to touch my mind with your own, she replied with another little smile. Of course, a lot of the connotation of those words were a bit technical for her in Common, and consequently were instinctively sublimated with general imagery and memory to offer better understanding of what she meant. I am also an empathetic telepath, however; all my kind are. I cannot hear your mind-voice if you do not project it to me, but I can sense the outline of your emotions.

Dipping her head to him slightly, she laid a hand to her chest, the other still touching him lightly, and continued, I am Ala’ora. We all speak this way—my whole species is mute, at least by the common definition. She moved her hand from her chest to touch lightly against her own throat and shook her head, smile turning a little wry. No vocal chords. We speak in shared thought, senses and memories and ideas.

The explanation was well-rehearsed, as she seemed to be the first of her kind that many of her previous acquaintances had met. But she didn’t seem irritated or wearied by it—in fact, there was a tinge of eagerness to her projected “voice”. This was why she’d left home after all, to explore and learn and teach in her own turn.

Looking around, she noted, Your ship is lovely. There was a hint of awe at the sheer size of the thing padded into the word “lovely” as it slipped from her mind to his. She pulled her hand back even as it did though, not sure what might be acceptable on The Anastasia and not wanting to push the limits of hospitality.

[Daglobster]

If it weren't for the directly beamed nature of the information, Elaros didn't think he would've really understood what she said to him. He just listened, unable to do anything else but walk alongside her and focus on her words, trying not to look too distracted in front of all his crew.

And speaking of crew, as they passed through the "lovely" service hallways that led to the bottom hangar (the only other thing on the bottom deck deck were fuel lines and exterior access airlocks) Maya would receive more confirmation that the only creatures on this ship were Drakkons. All Low, too. Elaros seemed to be the only one of his subspecies present.

"Well, it was mostly a joke, but I was also curious. I've been to lots of different places in the galaxy but I've never met someone like you," added, lips quirking up at the corners.

"And I've been to so many places, met so many people. Makes me wonder what else is out there."

She received odd looks and curious glances but nothing hostile, just pure curiosity. The Drakkons would hiss and bark amongst themselves in their own language and, well... work went on. If anybody cared she was walking down the hallway holding Elaros' hand, it didn't show.

"And I apologize for my indecency," Elaros said, although with a bit of an internal smirk as he motioned downwards, still just wearing his loose bathrobe and nothing much more than that, to  a body that was very human looking (and powerfully built, at that), save for the reptilian head, tail, and extremities.

"I was in the pool when Captain Ferdix told me we picked up your signal, and I've had a bit to drink...  and to smoke," he continued. He wondered

They arrived at the elevator bay and one of them automatically opened, but Elaros didn't enter it yet.

"Does it... does it work if I touch you?" Elaros asked, ever curious. He reached out, hesitated for a moment, but was just wasted enough to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder.

[DragonSong]

Maya followed along as he led her through the ship, listening attentively as he spoke about his life. It was intriguing to meet another traveler--she wondered if she might be able to convince him to share some memories of his experiences. It would be truly fascinating to experience what he had through his own eyes, compare the memories to her own travels...

She glanced around at the crew just as curiously as they looked at her, occasionally offering a small smile when someone held her eyes for longer than a moment. When Eloras apologized for his indecency she blinked, a little taken aback.

If she was being perfectly honest, she hadn't even really noticed, at least not until he pointed it out. She met quite a few colorful characters in the years since she'd left home, and had learned to just take such things in stride.

She wouldn't deny that once he practically gave her invitation to do so she eyed him up and down curiously, both intrigued and honestly a little brazen. Ala'ora tended not to hold much with modesty, and she was curious about the way he looked. She'd never met anyone like him either.

She smiled when his hand settled on her shoulder and projected easily, Yes, it does. As long as we are in contact, I can speak with you. She gave a little shrug. The more intimate I am with a person, the less contact is needed. Sometimes none at all, only proximity--and even that may be stretched with time.

The word "intimate" held an interesting connotation in her method of speech: there was something warm and familial about it for a moment, the kind of knowing someone that came with growing up with them. But there was a hint of something else around the edges, something that seemed...newer, as though she had only begun applying it recently, a sort of shiver down the spine and excited anticipation.

[Daglobster]

Oh, he did not miss how she "said" that and it sent a tingle down Elaros' own spine as well and he smiled, trailing a hand down her arm and taking her own so they could keep talking as he led her into the elevator and dialed in the dining room/kitchen deck.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty? We're on our way back to charted space so you could hitch a ride too, if you wanted" he said, tilting his head at her even if her past words lingered in his head. Because now, suddenly, there was a bit of tension in the air as the elevator doors closed, and he looked at her. He wasn't quite sure how to... project, as she'd put it, but he focused on that rush of excitement and hot anticipation that went through him when she spoke.

Screw it. She seemed friendly enough and he couldn't get that feeling out of his head. What's the worst that could happen?

"Or maybe you just want to pass some time?" he asked, leaning in a little and brushing a hand over the collar of his bathrobe as he sought those golden eyes of hers.

[DragonSong]

That would actually be very helpful, thank you. While the Mirage could fly well enough on standard fuel, she worked best the ala’oran variety, and Maya had learned she had to make that herself, often with components scrounged up from various bazaars and little hole-in-the-wall ships all across the galaxy—or at least what she had seen of it so far.

Smiling gently, she gave his hand a quick, appreciative squeeze and added with a tinge of sheepishness to her thought-voice, I admit I am a bit hungry. I didn’t exactly have time to break for lunch while I was monitoring the distress signal.

At his suggestion of passing time she thought she felt a tiny hint of—of something at the edge of his consciousness, trying to hop the bridge to her own. She blinked, confused and sure she was missing something.

Then what he’d said and the way he said it hit her and her eyes widened fractionally. It only took a moment or two for her realize what must have happened, and she flushed a deep shade of dusky purple, though she did not let go of his hand.

I, um... There was a lot of emotion in the two stuttered words: embarrassment, anxious anticipation, curiosity, chagrin, and even a hint of good old fashioned desire at the very edges—not to mention the fear that she was entirely wrong and was about to make a fool out of herself. I apologize, my way of speaking is very...open. I am not always fully in control of what emotions and ideas may be tied to what I say and projected, she tried to explain bashfully.

It wasn’t really an answer to what she thought his proposition was, but quite frankly she didn’t know how to handle that just yet. She certainly wasn’t opposed to the idea on principle or anything, but it had been rather sudden—though she knew it was sort of her own fault.

[Daglobster]

Hmm, perhaps he’d been a bit too forward and eager. In hindsight; he probably shouldn’t have blindsided her.

Still, Elaros listened as she spoke, glancing down at their joined hands periodically. He did remain close, as if was much easier than holding hands with their arms outstretched. He felt a little embarrassed, yes, but Elaros was nothing if not extremely open.

Besides, she seemed open to the idea, there were more hints of emotion that he picked up. He’d just have to wait until the mood was better, perhaps. He could tell she was curious, even without the psychic speaking giving him little rushes of emotion.

He gave an understanding nod and smiled.

“Don’t apologize, I was the one who was too forward with my curiosity,” he said, and tilted his head slightly at her.

The doors to the elevator opened and they were greeted buy a luxurious and modern dining room, and the busy kitchens and provision stores took up the rest of the space.

“Let’s see if there’s anything kicking around in the kitchen. It’s not dinner time yet but the cooks should be at their stations,” he said guiding her by the hand.

“So, as I was saying, excuse my forwardness. It’s not so often you meet someone so mysterious and beautiful,” Elaros said with a smirk, figuring he’d already propositioned her once, what was the harm in a little flirting?

[DragonSong]

Smiling and nodding in relief, glad he didn't seem to be offended, Maya followed him easily into the kitchens.

It was strange how comfortable it was to keep holding his hand--and strange that it was strange, which was a whole new headache to consider. Back home, open contact and frequent touching were just the norm. However, in her years traveling, she'd adopted the near-universal habit of keeping her hands to herself unless she absolutely had to...which did tend to happen to her more often than most people, considering it was her only way to communicate beside wild gesture and dramatic expressions.

Then Elaros spoke again and once more she felt her face grow hot with a blush. Oh! No, don't--you don't have to apologize. It was really my fault, all things considered. I have not been able to speak so casually with someone in...quite some time. I suppose my control is a little more lax than it should be.

Her flush deepened as she realized what she'd sort of implicitly admitted to and she added quickly, if a little softer, a tinge of shyness around the words, And...thank you. You're very kind.

She didn't get compliments like that often in this galaxy. People more tended to describe her as "unique" or "intriguing" or sometimes outright "strange". She honestly couldn't remember the last time someone had actually called her beautiful.

[Daglobster]

“Don’t worry about control here, Maya. Nobody’s going to judge you,” he said with a flirty little smile her way and he approached a servant busying herself with tidying the room and table. A few exchanged hisses and growls and the servant was off, and Elaros was motioning for her to take a seat next to him at the massive white table.

“They’re working on dinner for later but they’ll whip something up for you,” Elaros explained, and laid his hand on the table for her. He loved talking to her, and if it also meant that he got some nice warmth in exchange it was all the better!

He loved the purple hue of her blushing cheeks, and the stark contrast of those bold white lines.

“I love your tattoos, too,” he started, motioning to her cheeks and collar.

“How far down does it go?” He asked.

[DragonSong]

Maya only blushed more for that, but she smiled and nodded at him a little shyly, appreciative that he seemed so concerned with making her comfortable. It had been... Well, a long time since it really felt like someone was as interested in her, in the way she saw the world, as she was in learning about them in turn.

She watched the two aliens’ exchange it what she assumed must be their native tongue with interest, then politely took the seat Elaros offered. When he held his hand out again she reached out in mind to rest the tips of her first two fingers against his palm, third finger and thumb curled in slightly. It was an unconscious gesture, simply ala’oran decorum for speaking with someone you weren’t terribly familiar with.

Thank you, and your staff as well. You’re being very kind. The expression of gratitude clearly was meant to be extended to him and his crew both, and there was a hint of frustration that she could not tell them so more easily.

At his question, her eyes widened slightly and she sat up a little straighter. Smiling broadly, she shook her head and projected, It’s not a tattoo, it’s a clan marking. We all have them—it’s entirely natural, like the color of your scales, or the pattern in a bird’s feathers. My siblings’ and mine all look very similar, a sort of combination of the patterns from our parents: hence why they’re called “clan markings”.

Smiling brightly, she reached up with her other hand to tug at the collar of her loose white blouse, revealing that the white design came together in an elegant knot—almost like an Old Earth eternity knot—at the base of her throat. The markings sometimes extend over more of our bodies, but that is more rare. One of my sisters has some that sort of twist around the back of her neck though, it’s quite pretty.

When Maya spoke of her family it was an experience unto itself. The word “sister” conjured up an image of another young ala’ora woman—a girl really, no more than fifteen or so—with powder blue skin and similar white markings on her face, mint green hair swept up into a wild confection of a bun that threatened to come loose as she seemed to be laughing silently at something. There was true, raw affection as Maya spoke of her parents and siblings, and a sharp pang of homesickness too. Images of her some two dozen family members flashed through with the words, carrying a sense of home and belonging.

[Daglobster]

“Well, what’s all the money in the galaxy worth if you don’t share it?” Elaros mused. He was no stranger to gratitude but Maya’s seemed the most sincere and heartfelt he’d ever received. Maybe it had something to do with how her gratefulness was beamed directly into his mind...

He glanced down at her gesture, touching his palm with her two fingers like that, and looked back up to her to find those golden eyes, a color that reflected the brass coloration of his own scales.

“A natural marking?” He repeated, and before he could quite contain his curiosity he lifted a hand, tempted to trace it with a taloned finger before he realized that’d probably be a little rude. At first he thought the lines were too precise and beautiful to be natural but after her explanation it was the other way around.

When she mentioned family, however, and all that familial warmth and affection came rushing through him he looked a little... distraught. The warmth and homesickness she felt hit him  quite suddenly and he realized just how long it had been since his father called him a failure of a soldier and disowned him. No messages, no news, it struck him suddenly that he’d built an entire life of luxury for himself and didn’t even know how his siblings or parents were doing...

Fortunately for Elaros, a reptilian face was harder to read and he couldn’t exactly get teary-eyed either, and he fought past that wave of crushing emptiness to instead smile, closing his eyes unconsciously as the images of her family came drifting into his mind.

“On Drakkona, most of us are born with proper colors in their scales but metallics like myself are uncommon,” he said, angling himself so the light caught off his scales a little better.

“But the true mark of a special Drakkon is to be born with wings. One of my youngest brothers came out like that and the rest of us siblings were so jealous that we always made fun of him when he was trying to learn how to fly,” he said, and his smile turned a little sad and genuine. He laid his chin in his other hand.

“He must be swooping into all kinds of trouble nowadays...”