Kujhade stood at the doorway to their humble abode, fully intending to block her way. There was no way in hell that he was going to let her go to a mating ritual of all things, and he certainly wasn't going to accompany her. Although, he had to admit to himself that the idea had a certain intrigue to it. He had thought of taking her in front of all and sundry at that chiva, which seemed so long ago. The thought excited him right now truth be told, but no.
He watched as she put on the black ochre makeup she had become so fond of. She had also donned a very short loin cloth, one which Lijia had told her was appropriate for such an occasion. She looked good, but the most tantalizing thing, the thing he didn't want any other male seeing no matter how disgusting they said she looked, was the battle scars all over her body. She'd been caught in a net, and the thin lines had made a beautiful crosshatch pattern of scars across her front. A long scar ran down her calf where she'd been sliced, and various other cuts along her arms, back, and legs that he was so turned on by.
Jasmine marched back and forth getting herself together. The young female was there as well, presumably to babysit the boys. She was watching Jasmine with rapt attention. In her opinion, Jasmine looked as close to a yautja female in mating season as she could get. Her dark skin was even lending to the effect.
"Hey pretty girl, open up that sack. I got some little toys for them to play with, would you get it for me?" Jasmine called to the young female, who immediately obeyed. The boys toddled behind her, ready to get the toys.
She got the two toys which were sculpted replicas of Xenomorphs, and set about hiding each in a different place in the one room domicile. Immediately intrigued, they began to 'hunt' the toys down. Their parents watched, as Mili found his first. It was behind a stand which was used to store armor. Like a kitten on a ball of yarn, he pounced on it with a growl. Having secured it, he raced to the middle of the floor and held the toy above his head, giving his best victory roar. He then sat down and began to do his best interpretation of cleaning the trophy. It consisted of him sitting on the floor, turning the Xeno face down and ripping at it with his claws. Eventually the head popped off and he got up to show the female pup his trophy. She promptly picked him up, and without any warning he leaned in close to her face. Not understanding this gesture, the young female didn't react, although there was growing amusement on Kujhade's face, and growing horror on Jasmine's.
"Mili! What are you doing with her?!" Jasmine asked, flabbergasted at what she thought was happening. Mili paid no mind. He leaned in closer placing his small mandibles on her bigger ones, and then just staying that way. In the midst of it, Yeyinde had made his way over, anxious not to let his brother have all the fun. He presented his trophy as well, and proceeded to climb up the female's leg. Mili looked down to see his brother advancing, and reacted violently to it.
"Nooo, Yindeee, no no no no no!" He screamed kicking one foot, trying to connect with his advancing brother. Yeyinde flared his mandibles, then looked unsure about the whole thing, and whether or not that had been a good idea. He turned to his mother and toddled as fast as he could, growling and crying by turns. She picked him up when he reached for her, but he kept squirming, not sure if he wanted to stay in her arms or be put down.
Suddenly a booming laugh from Kujhade grated in the air, as he watched his pups act out. Jasmine shot him a look for not helping as Yeyinde continued to thrash about in her arms.
"Stop Yinde," she said calmly. He paused to look at her, and as if in dismissal of such a weak command, he thrashed around even more and began to try in earnest to scratch and claw at her.
"Stop it I said!" Jasmine commanded again, but that only fueled the young suckling's temper tantrum. He kicked wildly and he was strong; much stronger than any human two-year-old. He managed to plant one good kick to her face, scratching her cheek with his clawed foot. He saw a bit of blood, and that seemed to make him kick it up another notch. He outright growled at her, and instead of squirming to be put down, he was reaching for her to claw her again.
"I said STOP!" Jasmine yelled directly in his face. She planted him firmly on his butt on the floor, and gave him two good swats on his little thigh. They were good swats too, harder than she'd meant to do it.
Everything stopped, except Mili who was still trying to figure out kissing the female. She was thoroughly perplexed and still not comprehending what the baby was trying to do. Kujhade's laughter stopped abruptly, and so did Yeyinde's tantrum. She was about to apologize, to both Kujhade and the baby. She looked up at Kujhade, afraid that he would be angry, but he was only watching with an unreadable expression. She turned back to Yeyinde who was looking up at her with glassy eyes. The open defiance hadn't decreased, and he still seemed to be contemplating whether he should start back in on a tantrum.
"I see that little look in your eyes, but you better cut it out Yeyinde," Jasmine said pointing a finger in his face. He considered the finger, then looked at his sire.
"Daddy can't help you, you just better stop," Jasmine said sternly. It was breaking her heart to be so mean to him, but she remembered what the Matriarch reminded her of shortly after they'd come to this planet. She'd told Jasmine that rearing yautja pups was difficult. They were willful and defiant as they got older, and they were quick to challenge the authority of their bearers.
"You must be hard with them. Do not allow human weakness to intervene. It is in their nature to challenge, to defy. You must hit them, beat them into obedience if you must. You are human, and they will challenge you more, even though you are their bearer," the Matriarch had warned.
At the time Jasmine thought she was crazy, but she was seeing it now. Yeyinde was still thinking of a way to challenge her authority. He had not been cowed yet. The two swats were a warning maybe, but not enough to make him stand down. Jasmine hated the thought of hitting such small children, but then again these were not regular human children. A time out corner wasn't going to fly here.
"No" he said, his chin raised in further disobedience, and a mischievous gleam in his hazel eyes. Jasmine raised her hand threatening another swat, but paused. He considered her hand again, decided she was bluffing, and took a swing of his own.
"I said stop, didn't I?" Jasmine said and landed four hard swats to the same thigh. He looked at her, stunned. His large eyes blinked owlishly and then they became glassy, but even at this age he was trying not to cry about pain. His bearer had never raised a hand to either of them, and now she had. He put his little hand on his thigh where she'd swatted him, and rubbed it. He looked back up at her, and then slowly reached up to her, this time really wanting to be picked up and petted.
"You're sorry?" Jasmine asked, kneeling down to eye level with him. He nodded his large head.
"Towwy, mama," he said, his little breath hitching as he struggled not to cry. Her heart melted, but even so, she refused to pet him. That was a no-no even with human children. Never pet immediately after a punishment.
"Okay, but I'm not petting you. You have to go to bed now Yeyinde, come on," she said gathering him up to take him to the small bed pit he shared with his brother. He lay down on his stomach, and she covered him in a thin pelt. She noticed he was crying, as his little shoulders shuddered, but he was still not willing to let her see it. She wanted so badly to rock and cuddle him, but she restrained herself somehow, and settled for giving his crest one or two rubs before standing and facing the silenced room.
"Now for you little man. What are you doing over here?" Jasmine asked, marching over to Mili. His eyes were round, anticipating that he might get the same treatment to the thigh, that his brother had received. He looked at the female who was still holding him, then back to his mother.
"Kissss, momma, kissss," he said then reached for Jasmine.
"Wait, are you trying to kiss her?" She asked, amused and slightly ashamed. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
"Yesss, momma," he said, in his little raspy voice as she gathered him into her arms.
"You're too young to kiss Mili. You saw momma kiss daddy and you wanna do it to?" She asked, assuming he didn't understand the complex question. He surprised her when he nodded in the affirmative.
"He is too young to mate, but they already feel the need to present a trophy to a female," Kujhade finally chimed in. The pride in his deep baritone voice was unmistakable.
"You got a long way to go before you can mate anybody little man. You like her Mili?" Jasmine asked playfully as she lay him next to his brother. He seemed puzzled, then just shrugged his little shoulders.
"Aww, mommy's baby doesn't know anything about that. He just wants to play with his toys that's all," Jasmine cooed in baby talk. She kissed his broad forehead.
"You can give momma your trophy later okay? You gonna kill it tomorrow for momma?" She asked, amused that his eyes brightened at the prospect of killing something.
"Sei-i momma. Yinde and, and, and, toys, momma, toys," he said, getting excited all over again. He wasn't nearly ready for sleeping. She got up and gave them each a stuffed toy; a hold-over from the haul she'd gotten when they were small. She had gotten toys meant for older children as well, just so they would still have toys she was familiar with. They were stuffed monsters, about half the size of her children. Mili clutched his close to his chest, and Yeyinde reached a small arm out for his after a moment of reluctance. She'd had to simply place it next to him before he decided to take it.
"Okay, so I gave them a bath before you got here, and I fed them. If they want something else later, I made a meat dish for them," she told their 'babysitter'. The young female nodded, and took a seat in the corner of the room. She took out her training spear, and began to sharpen its single edge like Dteinou had taught her. Jasmine turned towards Kujhade, who had resumed his stoic place by the door with his arms crossed over his chest.
"I'm ready to go, so you might as well come with me and stop pouting," she said, trying to march past him, but running into him instead.
"I said we are not going to a mating ritual. You don't know what you are asking for," he said again. He'd repeated it a million times since earlier when they left training. Jasmine crossed her own arms, and peered up into his face.
"Well you should have thought about that before you let your little ex-girlfriend get in my face," she said, still feeling something about that.
"She challenged you,"
"And I'm answering it. She can't get away with that. Lijia told me…."
"Lijia talks too much…"
"Better than not knowing shit about what's going on. She told me that if I didn't show up tonight and basically screw you in front of Big Bertha, that I was giving her permission to have sex with you. Is that true?" Jasmine challenged. She knew Lijia wouldn't lie about something like that.
Kujhade stared at her, his lower mandible twitching. He was quiet, which was a sure sign that Lijia had been right after all, and now he didn't want to say.
"So just as I thought, I have to do this, or I get the feeling she's not going to leave it alone. In any case, I gotta save face here. If I let this slide, all kinds of bitches will be lined up to smack me around and then fuck your brains out. I don't like the thought of that, and you better not like the thought of it, so let's go," she said.
Kujhade gave her a once over, then slightly adjusted just enough to let her pass. She had to squeeze past, feeling the hardness of his body, and the heat radiating from him. He grunted and then led the way. They were headed away from where the marketplace and kehrite were located. Behind their small home, was a dirt and gravel pathway which led into the dense forest tree line just about a hundred yards away.
Lijia warned her that during the first night of mating season, the males were unarmed, but the females were allowed a single weapon of their choice. Jasmine had chosen to wear her wedding gift, the fancy breastplate made of bone, and a long dagger on her right hip. Kujhade, true to Lijia's word, wore no weaponry or armor. He did not even have on his mask. He wore only a short loin cloth and his metal codpiece underneath. His sandals which were made of a leather-like material rather than the metal boots he usually wore, were strapped up his calf to just below his knees, gladiator style. This time his loincloth did bear the mark of their clan marked in red, against the cream colored cloth, denoting that he was the leader of said clan.
Jasmine looked up just before they entered the tree line, and saw one of the moons hanging low in the alien sky. It was bright and full, illuminating everything in an ethereal light. Kujhade seemed to glow in that light, and when they entered the forest proper, he seemed to blend in among the dapples of moonlight here and there. All at once he seemed magical, mysterious, deadly, and sexy like some strange thing from either her nightmares or her fantasies; maybe from both places. Unexpectedly, he grabbed her hand and placed it on his lower back. She grabbed hold of the rim of his cloth, and he took position in front of her. At first, she didn't understand the position change, but soon did as the dirt path gave way to full on forest floor. The sharp rocks and twigs dug their way into the flimsy soles of her makeshift sandals, as she tried to literally follow in his footsteps lest she fall.
"How far away are the mating grounds?" Jasmine piped up, just to break the calm but somewhat eerie silence.
"Not far," Kujhade answered. She thought he would elaborate, but his demeanor seemed to change as they traveled. He seemed to be almost angry, or sullen. He certainly was less than thrilled.
"We can go back if you want," she offered, pulling on his cloth and stopping. He turned to face her.
"You wan-ted thissss," he said in his best English. She frowned a bit, and shifted her feet. She reached to grab his hand in her own. He allowed the contact but did not reciprocate.
"I just wanna be part of it. We're here on your home planet, and I just don't want to do anything to shame you, or dishonor you. I thought I had to do this to look strong, but we can go back if you don't want me to do it. I know you don't want to go," Jasmine said, trying to intertwine their fingers and finally looking up at him through her lashes.
Long moments passed. He stood tall over her, his breathing even, and his eyes steady. He never looked away from her, or made any noise, and she didn't think he even blinked. It was Jasmine who started fidgeting first. She looked down between her feet, and twiddled with the hem of her cloth. Finally, she looked up at him again.
"Say something Jhade," she pleaded. His expression was still blank. The light of the moon played across his face, as he studied hers. He raised a talon and pointed it at her chest.
"Your honor, not minnee," he spoke again in English, the last word ending in a rumble in his chest. It was rare for him to make an effort to speak her language, and she knew he didn't know much of it. It warmed her heart whenever he did so, because that was his way of engaging with her completely.
Jasmine looked down at her feet, but felt a large finger lift her chin. He tilted his head to the side, but not because he didn't understand. He was trying to ascertain if she understood it. She believed she did know what he was saying to her.
"So basically, I'm doing this for my own honor. Has nothing to do with you, not really. Your honor wouldn't be damaged if I don't go?" She asked. He seemed to think about what she said. Finally, he shook his head. Not quite it.
"Ooman. Not bound to all law," he managed in English again. This was the most he'd spoken of her language since she first laid eyes on him. Now it was her turn to think about it. Her eyebrows raised once it all dawned on her, for real this time.
"Okay, I think I really get it now. This is optional since I'm not a yautja. It's forgivable to let it slide technically. I have the feeling that if I do decide not to go through with this, that I will be viewed as even weaker than they all imagined, and it would be shameful anyway. Maybe even laughable. I'd be a laughing stock, wouldn't I? A punk?" She surmised, and by the way he nodded and his eyes sparkled, she'd hit the nail on the head.
"So, the decision is final. Let's go to the mating ritual. Mar'cte's gonna be there, right?" She asked. He gave her a look that said, what do you think?
"How could I think otherwise?! Lead the way my sexy life mate," she chuckled. He grunted and turned around. She grabbed the back of his cloth as they walked single file to mating grounds. She would be very unprepared for the scene which awaited her, but for now she settled for feeling the warmth of his body, and the enchanting sight of the alien forest under the light of the moon.
Marcus woke up to the ungodly sounds of his alarm clock. 6:00 am it read in bright red lettering. With a huff, he sat up, and wiped his eyes. He thought about the day before, and frowned.
The venture to the Love Outreach shelter hadn't yielded much, but it was more suspicious now than ever before. It was too clean, too orderly, and a little too clinical. The receptionist was in her early thirties. Not so young that you didn't take her seriously, and not so old that you couldn't relate to her. She smiled, she greeted him politely, and when he produced a picture of Jasmine she smiled even more, but there had been something in her eyes. It seemed to Marcus it was recognition even though she swore to have only been working there the last six months. She'd given him a plausible song and dance about how some patrons of the shelter are normally moved to a sister shelter across town, and that that was probably what happened to Jasmine. She passed him a brochure with the address, and politely sent him on his way. He went away quietly enough, but the receptionist had made an important call after he left. She had been instructed that if anyone were to come by and ask any questions about a certain list of people, that she was to make a call or lose her job. So she called, she described Marcus to the finest detail, and she hung up the phone. Marcus wasn't aware of any of that. Right now, all he was aware of was that it was yet another day of school (good thing the year was winding down), and he didn't want to go.
Sleepily, he marched to the bathroom. He tried the knob; locked. He rolled his eyes and leaned his head on the door.
"I don't got time for this," he sighed. He turned in the small hallway and faced his mother's bedroom door. It was cracked a little, and he peered inside. It was empty, and the bed had not been slept in. He turned back around and banged on the door with his fist.
"Mmnn," a moan wafted from inside the small bathroom. Marcus sighed again, and then shouldered his way in.
Angela was seated on the toilet. Her short, spaghetti strapped dress was hiked up above her waist exposing her privates. A stinking mess of vomit was on the floor next to her feet, and he could see it had splattered and dried all down her front. Had it not been for the moan, he would have thought she was dead. One arm was stretched over the small sink with a tourniquet and an empty needle dangling from a spent vein. She had bled a bit into the sink as well. Her once beautiful natural hair was matted in places, and sat in tufts in others. Her badly applied makeup was smeared as if she'd been crying, and she reeked of alcohol as well. This wasn't the first time he'd found her this way. A small part of him was glad she'd been at home in this condition and not out in the streets. A larger part of him hated her for putting him in this position.
"C'mon momma," he muttered, although he knew she couldn't respond. He doubted she even knew where she was.
He grabbed a cotton ball and placed it at the site of the needle, then carefully withdrew the syringe. While applying a bit of pressure, he released the tourniquet and tossed the needle in the trash. After a moment or two it was no longer bleeding. He stepped over the puke, and started some bath water. He then unceremoniously removed her dress by pulling it over her head. She tried to protest lightly, but then she had nodded off again.
"We gotta wash up momma," he said as he hefted her up. She was never fat, but now she was positively waifish. As carefully as he could, he placed her into the hot soapy water, and made sure she was sitting upright. He then set about the task of putting her clothes in the hamper, and cleaning the vomit, the bloody sink, and the unflushed toilet.
"Jazzy," Angela said dreamily. Marcus turned his head slowly and stared at his mother. Her eyes were closed, but tears were running down her face, and her outstretched hand seemed to be reaching for her missing daughter.
"Was looking for you Jazz….where are you…Jazzy girl?" She mumbled. Her voice hitched once like she would start sobbing. Marcus turned away, a bleachy sponge in his hand. He wrung it out, and stepped out into the hallway. He hadn't realized that he was also crying. The tears stung in his eyes, and he cursed her, and cursed himself for starting his morning like this. Last of all, he cursed Jasmine for not being there to help him through this. Sobering himself, Marcus re-entered the bathroom, and began the unpleasant task of bathing his mother.
He knelt beside the tub and grabbed a washcloth and bar of soap. He leaned her forward and began to wash her back. She was still nodding off, still high from the heroin, but he could feel her breath hitching in a silent sob. Weakly, she grabbed at his forearm, her fingers grazing the old wounds she'd made. With bloodshot eyes, she looked up at him, and the sight of her so vulnerable, so broken, made his heart twist painfully in his chest. He had to choke back a sob of his own. She was looking at him with child-like innocence, her eyes tragically aware even in her drug induced haze. Her mouth seemed to work to find the words for a moment before they came.
"Is Jasmine dead Marcus? I-is she gone forev-ev-eveerrrrr?" And the tears came bursting forth from her in a wail.
"Jaazzzzyyyyy! I-i-I'm so sorrrryyyy! Sooo soorrryyyyy!" She continued to wail and sob loudly. "He hurt you! He hurt my baby so baaaadd!" Angela cried, slowly beginning to pull her own hair and smack herself about the face and head.
"Who momma? Who hurt Jazz?" Marcus asked, confusion and burgeoning anger kindling in his mind and chest. He grabbed her arms and shook her lightly. Did she have some idea what happened to Jasmine? Something inside of him denied that vehemently. No, this was some other knowledge, some other hurt which had been visited upon his sister. His mind tried to conjure long buried half-memories, and he shook his head trying to get rid of them. He didn't want to recall, that much he knew. Whatever was trying to crawl up from the depths of his subconscious, he needed it never to see the light of day. With a groan, he did force the Pandora's box in his mind to close, and threw a lock on it for good measure.
You can't keep me closed forever Marcus, it told him, with a voice that came from everywhere inside, and nowhere at all.
You can't keep me closed. One day I will open, and cast everything you love into a pit of hell. You can believe that, it said, and then quieted.
Angela's crying died out as she passed into semi-consciousness once again, but it had already knocked the wind out of Marcus, who could now barely lift his arms. Somehow, he finished bathing her, but he never answered her question. He couldn't. For as much as he thought about it, he couldn't think about it at all. Was she dead? He liked to think that he would know if she was, but that might have been wishful thinking at best. Outright foolish at worst.
He rinsed her and dried her off. He carried her to her bed, and fished through her chest of drawers for a nightgown. Finding one, he put it on her, and tucked her in as a parent would a small child. She was now fast asleep, the dried tear tracks staining her cheeks. He stood and looked over her a moment more; a mixed feeling of love, pity, and hatred roiling in his gut and making his head hurt. Marcus turned to leave and salvage what was left of his morning.
"Thank you, baby. My sweet boy," his mother's voice floated to him. He didn't answer, as he closed the door behind him, and got ready for school.
A/N: So, I know I left you all on a couple of interesting notes. What do you all think of Jasmine's mother? I may or may not have some things lined up for her, no promises, but she's interesting to write. As for the mating ritual scene, I swear it's in the next chapter. It's actually already written, so I just need to make sure it's right before I post.
Speaking of my posting schedule, I shall try every Wednesday/Thursday. I don't know how long this story is going to be, but I'm halfway sure I've written about a quarter of it :) This helps with the schedule staying on track or else it will never get written or posted.