Posted 2023-09-17; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12

"Sikaru?" Jasper asked, holding up a long-necked bottle.

"Oh, please." Esme sat on one of the sofas. Even with her perfect posture, she looked a little tired.

Bella could relate. It had felt like a very long day, and she'd only been awake for a short part of it. Her corset cut into her midsection when she slouched, and she very much wanted to slouch. She settled for leaning back against the sofa and enduring the marginal discomfort.

There were a few other affirmative replies to Jasper's offer as family members trickled in, though Bella noted that Edward declined. He leaned over, asking if she wanted tea, which she politely refused. Managing the privy in her cumbersome, borrowed clothing was something she'd rather avoid as long as possible.

Holding the wobbly table in front of him steady with one hand, Jasper poured tiny glasses of the amber liquid. Bella had caught a whiff of something whiskey-like as he'd passed by.

Edward watched his brother. "Have you made it a tradition, Mother, keeping that rickety table?"

"It's not rickety." Esme sounded mildly affronted. "It's delicate. And besides, it's a family heirloom. There's something to be said for learning to manage delicate traditions."

Bella watched Edward suppress a grin. "As you say." When everyone was settled, Edward cleared his throat. "Miss Swan asked me about the committee of reparations and its work." He clasped his hands together, elbows resting on his knees.

Esme nodded, taking a sip of her drink and setting down the glass. "Ah, you want to know about the women's movement."

"Please," Bella said politely.

"What has anyone told you so far about our history?" Esme asked.

"Not a lot."

"I suppose there hasn't been much time," Esme said, looking away for a moment as if to collect her thoughts. She cleared her throat. "Our species is a hybrid one. Originally, there were two distinct types of our kind, long-disappeared because of severance—the ability to travel between worlds."

"How long has severance been used?" Bella asked.

"Thousands of years." Esme took another sip of her drink. "Before then, our two Aristean species traded, interbred, and intermarried—that was, until Sabellians discovered we could find compatible mates from off-world. I'll leave that very large part of history to another day. At first, we brought people who were willing to come. But, it wasn't long before it was easier to bring unwitting people, using subterfuge. And not long after that, we began to take people of other species as slaves—using them as badly as slaves on Earth were used—and sometimes worse.

"Ultimately, the Seelash organized a resistance against us, but on your planet, well, slavery was as accepted as it was here."

Listening in horrified fascination, Bella was already making connections with the reparations work Edward had referenced. "So, for several centuries, you enslaved people from Earth. . . and elsewhere? But you don't anymore?" Given her current circumstances, Bella had reason to doubt such a claim.

"We did and no, we don't anymore—at least, we'd like to say that, but you are here. Obviously, not everyone abides by the covenant." Esme gave a small sigh.

Covenant. Seelash. So much information. Another wave of fatigue swept over her, and Bella did her best to hide it, gripping the armrest beside her to stay upright.

"We can continue another time, if you need to rest," Edward said. Did he notice everything?

"No, no. I want to hear more. Please continue."

"Enslavement stopped, eventually. The women's movement—it's a complex history." Esme paused, almost frowning. "One woman made a brave choice that inspired many more to follow and, eventually, enough of our kind finally recognized the evil we were engaged in and put a stop to it. Along with slavery, we refused the customs enabled by it. We embraced the languages of those we'd enslaved, or some of us did, which is why we also speak English. It's difficult to sum up all the changes. There is nothing here, no aspect of life, especially here at the heart of the movement, that hasn't been touched by this revolution—how we work, the resurgence of our traditional ways, our harvesting methods—everything."

"And the connection to Edward's work?" Bella thought of the all-male committee she'd met.

"Reparations," Esme said. "Repairing the damage we inflicted, as much as is possible, starting where we took the most people—which I believe was where you were living, yes?"

Bella nodded. "So . . . is it only men who complete that work?"

Esme sipped her drink. "No. It's a shared responsibility. But Edward, why don't you continue, son? You can speak more concretely to it than I can."

When Bella glanced at Edward, he looked . . . solemn. Perhaps pensive?

"Reparations are indeed the purpose of our work."

When he didn't continue, Bella cleared her throat. "Is that why you were at Mr. Morris's estate?"

Edward stared at his hands for a moment before meeting her gaze. "Yes, it was."

"So, how do the reparations work?" Bella was genuinely curious. She thought of the reading she'd done on the topic. The concept made sense, but the logistics were daunting—and expensive.

"Frankly, they don't."

"Edward." Esme sounded shocked.

"They don't, Mother. We've spent over a century studying, tracing lineages, making proposals. We've taxed to raise funds for the work but have done nothing to address the long-standing, systemic damage."

"That's not true." There was fire in Esme's voice. "Your father—"

"My father, yes, my father and his work," Edward said, his tone disparaging. He sat up straighter, briefly drawing Bella's attention to the curtain wavering behind him. Bella wished she was close enough to feel the breeze behind it. The room was overly warm.

"He made sure the histories were funded," Esme said. "You saw the evidence of it in his notes here. You told me you saw the archives—"

"Archives and studies are not reparations. Yes, we made sure the history of our damage was well-documented here and off-world. But we've barely done anything to repair the moral or financial harm. I don't blame our people for their grievances against us—"

"There were funds, Edward. He had gold in hand. He gave it—"

"To a few families, yes. To efforts for documenting slaves' lives—decades ago. Since then?" Edward shook his head.

"This is prerje talking."

"Hardly." Edward frowned at a printed map on the wall. "When you can frame your unfinished reformation plans, they become the past, not the future."

Bella glanced at the map.

"Our plans are hung here to remind us of our goals," Esme said.

"Yes, while we sit sipping sikaru in our ancestral home."

Bella's attention was only half on the conversation, the rest on the now wildly wobbling curtain. As it shifted, she could see the window behind it was closed. Had the whiffler gotten back inside?

"Expecting to eradicate centuries of damage in a few decades is foolish," Esme said.

"We could do a great deal more than we are. If we are truly to act as the stewards we say we are, we need to fix our mistakes—off-world and at home—by providing homes, employment, food—"

The curtain ballooned out like something was pushing from behind it, the light in the room shifting. Bella glanced around. If anyone else had noticed, they showed no signs of it. The rest of the family were watching Esme and Edward argue.

"Systemic change will take time, you can't expect—"

"Progress? Concrete action? More than years wasted studying? I was there for four years, Mother, accomplishing nothing but—"

A large tentacle slid out from behind the curtain, reaching for Edward.

"Oh my god!" Bella lunged forward, grabbing at Edward's arm, trying to yank him away from the massive appendage. Her vision blurred, and when it cleared, she found herself pushed up against the wall opposite where they'd been. Edward stood with his back to her, slightly crouching, arms outstretched.

How had they moved so quickly?

Everyone else stood, looking to where Edward had been sitting.

"What's wrong?" Edward asked her over his shoulder.

"Over there!" Bella pointed to the window.

First Alice and then Emmett burst out laughing.

"That's enough," Edward said to them, straightening up and relaxing his stance. "Don't tease her."

They both sobered immediately. "We apologize," Alice said, sounding genuine.

Her heart still pounding, Bella couldn't understand why they weren't terrified. The tentacle was in full view. She followed the long, pale, suckered line it formed up to the ceiling and gasped.

"It's alright," Edward said, turning and gently touching her elbow. "It's only the lampa."

Bella stared at the massive octopus-like creature stuck to the ceiling. It glowed, its soft yellow light filling the room. Stunned, she realized it was the only source of illumination.

She put her hand over her heart, staring at the luminous tentacles. Were these things everywhere in the house?

"There isn't one of those in the room I'm staying in, is there?"

"No." Esme said firmly, eyeing the rest of the family. "Not one of these."

Bella took several deep breaths. "Do they . . . move around a lot?" She thought of that straying tentacle.

"Just this one. It's a bit older and more curious than the others." Edward spoke gently. "It won't harm you. It's just that we'll smell differently to it, having been on Earth, so it may . . . stray for a few days, but no more so than you've already seen. They like to remain close to their food sources, which are purposefully kept near the ceiling."

What did they eat?

"That reminds me," Esme said, "Rose, let Tabitha know not to use the second floor bathroom pot for dampening. I'm not sure what the effect of an off-worlder diet would be on the lampa."

Oh.

Suppressing her grimace, Bella rubbed at her arm where it was aching.

"Are you alright, Miss Swan?" Edward nearly whispered.

"Um, yes?"

His gaze tracked to her arm and he frowned. "I'm sorry, I hurt you and—"

"It's nothing."

Still meeting her gaze, he continued. "I apologize for the fright, too, but thank you for your concern—for trying to protect me."

"You're . . . welcome." She eyed the creature as it flexed its tentacles out from the center of the room. Its color shifted slightly as it camouflaged itself to match the plaster pattern.

Edward smiled, following her gaze. "Not quite like a light bulb, but very efficient."

Taking a seat as far away from the suckered appendage as possible, Bella eyed the creature, then the room, and then the clothing of everyone present. With the argument over for now, the others had fallen into quiet conversation, leaving her and Edward alone on the far side of the parlor. She thought about the assumptions she'd made about a historical reenactment. "When I first saw you, Edward, on Earth, you were dressed—you wore modern clothing."

"So as to blend in, yes."

She bit her tongue, thinking about how much he had failed to do so. "So . . ." she paused, considering how to phrase the question without giving offense. "Everything here looks like it's from the 19th century. I mean, I know I've only seen a few places, but I haven't seen any technology, aside from"—she gestured to her ear—"but you travel between worlds. Why is everything so . . ." Dang, how did she put this?

"Primitive?" Edward asked, smiling. "Antiquated?"

Bella nodded, grateful it was him saying it aloud.

"It's a choice," he said.

"Like . . . the Amish?" Would he know about them?

"No. At least, not in the way you're probably thinking." Still looking amused, Edward shook his head. "We do have very advanced technology, and in some places in Sabellia and in other countries, it is much more obvious and prevalent. But here, we were at the heart of the women's movement and the restoration. I suppose you could say we're a bit like the Amish—guided by principles more than convenience." He paused. "But in our travels between worlds, we've seen where unchecked industrialization leads—where the idea of convenience—of disposability leads. The restoration was an embracing of much of what we were before severance—and rejecting many off-worlder ideas. Stewardship of our natural resources is central in everything we do."

Bella nodded, thinking of the periods of history she'd studied—periods of expansion, retraction, revolution, and conservatism. The opposing waves were predictable.

"The restoration has its opponents. Northern Sabellia"—Edward sighed—"is much more like the Earth you know, at least in terms of their use of technology."

"And we're in—the southern part of the country?"

He nodded.

Bella thought of the committee of men she'd met and their prediction about her ability to travel. Aside from Edward and one other, they'd been old, gray and . . . stodgy. Was it their conventional ideas that prevented her from traveling home earlier?

"Is—do those beliefs about . . . stewardship govern the travel between worlds?"

Edward cocked his head. "To some degree—but in what way?"

"Would people in the North be able to return me home earlier?"

"No." He shook his head, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry. The North doesn't have access to a severance point, and our relationship with them is, at best, strained. There are fundamental differences in beliefs about off-landers—"

"Edward?" Esme stood at the door. "It's almost time to dampen the lampa."

"It is late, isn't it?" Edward stood, giving Bella a formal nod. "Tomorrow, first thing, I'll begin to teach you our language. And answer any other questions you have."

"Okay." Bella stood as well, still unsteady.

"Edward, I'm sure Jasper would appreciate your help with this room, if you wouldn't mind?"

Edward eyed the ceiling, sighing. "Of course."

"And not too late tonight, hmm?" His mother gave him a knowing look. "The archival reports will still be there in the morning."

He nodded. "Yes, they will."

"Bella, I can help you prepare for the night," Esme said. She gestured towards the door and the stairs.

"It sounds like you have some things to do, though. Can I help?" The others were already beginning to pair off and head to other rooms. It seemed the octopuses—the lampa, she corrected herself—required work. Bella wondered how many there were that she hadn't noticed, as well as what other discoveries she'd yet to make.

Edward laughed. "Be grateful you're excused from this task, Miss Swan. Soon enough, you won't be."

"He's right," Esme said.

"Well then, that sounds like advice I should take. Thank you, Ed–Mr. Cullen." Bella caught herself in time and smiled politely at him. He'd been unfailingly kind, and he seemed to have a good sense of humor—sometimes. She had a feeling she'd need as much of that as she could find. "Glowing octopuses," she muttered, shaking her head.

Upstairs, Esme helped Bella unlace her corset, showing her where to hang her clothing and how to brush her teeth with a tiny pumice-like stone.

"This is fresh water, so make sure you don't get it in your eyes or mouth." Esme pointed to the pitcher and ewer on a stand. "There is a glass of mother's tea beside the bed, should you become thirsty during the night."

As Esme tugged the drapes closed, Bella forced herself to eye the ceiling. No octopus. The room's light came from two glowing glass globes on the wall.

"How do you turn those off?" she asked, pointing to them.

"You don't." Esme unscrewed the lid of the brass-caged globe, poking inside. "Immature lampas. I'll put them in the hall. Do you need anything else before bed?"

"Thank you, no." Truthfully, now that a bed was in sight, Bella was ready to collapse into a puddle of exhaustion—that or shock. She was feeling numb again.

Esme nodded. "It will be light well before you're probably used to, and you are still recovering. We'll try to be quiet in the morning, but if you hear us, don't feel the need to come down until you feel fully rested. You'll adjust soon enough."

Bella hoped she would. She would need to.

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement.