is it a normal thing when your slimes fuse?
A stupid question. A very, very stupid question. Still, Verge steels his nerves and sends. The question goes to every fellow rancher he can find in his starmails, looking hopelessly amateur in the default font and the lack of proper punctuation. That's fine. He knows how long he can hide under the veneer of being the new member before they start regarding his questions with disdain. He's calculated it to the exact minute it runs out before. This can't be much different.
He has about a month. He also has a feeling he'll make most of his mistakes in that amount of time, so he figures it should work out. If he slips up after that time frame's over... he'll just have to deal with it himself. Like he'll have to deal with everything else.
When did this become his life?
It would usually be exaggeration to say that he sighs and collapses onto the bed. But he does. Verge buries his face in the pillow and tries to ignore the faint glare of the laptop's light nearby. It hurts his eyes in this comforting darkness. He doesn't want to look at it more than he needs to.
His doubts are rising again. It really is tempting to just let them take over. But I've just started here, I can't give up yet- all the words are familiar enough to be a litany in the back of his head. One more step. It's everything he can do.
He doesn't want to ask for help. Really. If he could, he would just deal with this himself, exist alone in this world where there is nothing that hates him. But he's destroying this world's balance already, making something new and uncomfortable and artificial, and stars above, he can't handle that alone.
It's his first or second day and he's already had a breakdown. The thought is enough to have a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling up in his throat. Hell, he's having a breakdown right now, isn't he? Two in one day.
He should never have gone here. He should have stayed back on Earth with everything he knew.
... No. No, he can't do that. This is as far as he can go. If he had stayed, he would have kept wanting to go farther. He'll take this opportunity and live in it as best he can. That's what Lucillen said to do. And... and he wants to do that too.
That's fine. This is fine. He can do this. He can get through this. This is something he has to do. He'll neglect his duties and the slimes if he doesn't get over himself already. So he's going to do that. He will.
The laptop lets out a ding, and he yelps, which does not bode well for any future prospects of getting over his issues.
You've made largos?! comes the sudden reply, from a rancher he's only heard of in the occasional mention from Lucillen nemself. A long string of starmails follows. Finally! Someone else! You're from the sun kid's ranch, aren't you? The new one! The name's Beatrix! I didn't know LL taught you to make largos!
Despite himself, Verge feels a weight come off his shoulders.
Beatrix isn't the only one responding anymore- a few more ranchers are popping up, telling him it's not done or it's rare and not really recommended or telling him it's dangerous- but there's someone. Someone else, Beatrix said, someone else who does the same. And she's continuing correspondence anyway, going on about how she can teach him about all the possible combinations and the best way to handle them and this is going to be fun, lots of fun, and he...
He didn't mess up.
There's a large part of his brain that's telling him to listen to everyone else, to the litany of not recommended, not professional, not good, but that tiny bit that's still hoping he hasn't fucked up everything just won't shut up. So he opens up Beatrix's starmails and answers.
it's really okay?
Of course! It's perfectly fine to make largos. Although I'm gonna have to warn you, if you make any with boom slimes, you better find something to ice burns down real fast.
... what's a boom slime?
Oh, right, you're new! Do you want me to show you? I could take one over to your ranch if you give me the warp coordinates!
... He's not sure that's a good idea. There's a high chance that boom slimes go boom, after all, and he's not sire what it'll do to his ranch in the aftermath.
no thank you, he starts, and then he backspaces until the whole thing is gone and starts again, because that's a little too direct. i'm really sorry, but i'm a little sick right now, and i don't want you to be infected, since it's a little contagious. maybe another time?
Okay, that's fair. If you ever need help, though, don't hesitate to ask! I'm always open!
Verge shuts his laptop screen and lets out a faint sigh of relief. He's fine. All this was fine.
The relieved tears pricking at his eyes are fine, too.
It's barely a few minutes before he gets up again. The world's a little less weighty now, that tiny little bit of pressure gone. It's a very, very welcome comfort. Others have done this. He's not doing anything wrong.
Verge can't help but sob. He hasn't done anything right in so long. He lives with his parents, he doesn't have a job, he cleans house and buys groceries and does all the chores, but it's always just been wrong. There's always some dust he's missed, or some vegetable that's not fresh enough, or some dish that's still just a bit too oily. There's always a failed job interview lined up. There's always a disappointed glare or a sharp word.
When did he last do something right?
College, he thinks mutely, college was the last time. He had high grades, his art was wonderful, he had so much freedom and so much opportunity. He had deadlines instead of constant responsibilities. He had time allotted for art rather than time stolen. He'd done so much right then.
And now?
Now, Verge muses, he's nothing but a failure trying to do better. Maybe here is a place he can.
Verge laughs. It's relieved and stupid and the same raspy, tired sound he's always been humiliated by, but there's no-one here to hate it but him and he's too tired to hate it now. Worry is exhausting. Panic is exhausting. Anxiety is exhausting. And he is so, so exhausted.
Still, there's still a reserve of energy left. So he gets up. Maybe his slimes are hungry. Maybe they're asking for some food right now. He remembers being hungry a lot. He'll be damned if he lets them go hungry in that cage.
Verge steps out of the door and into daylight seeping into the Grotto. It's pleasantly warm.