"Give a little, but take a little more." -The Drifter
Author's warning: This chapter is very long. And that's it...that's the whole warning. ::3
A melodic chime dragged Meren from the depths of her dreams back to her quarters in the Reef. Fumbling blindly through the tangle of sheets, her hand closed around the corner of her datapad. She dragged it closer, tapping the display twice to wake it, and squinted at the notification on the screen. A message from Hiro.
After a glance at the chron in the corner of the screen, Meren turned the datapad over and yawned, allowing herself a fitful stretch before she burrowed back into her covers. Hiro can wait, she decided, her eyes drifting shut once again. All she needed was another hour. Then she'd get up, respond to Hiro, and head back to the Prison to see-
Shit.
Her eyes snapped right back open and she sat bolt upright in bed as the events of last night surged to the forefront of her mind. Meren allowed the memory to play once over in her head before the lead weight that had formed in her stomach dragged her back down into the sheets.
Suddenly feeling like she had been run over by a Pike, Meren squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the sheets around her, unable to stop the memory from playing over once again.
After she had deferred Variks' polite offer to escort her back to her room, they had cuddled - no, that wasn't the right word for it. They had gotten handsy with each other for a while longer, Variks' claws wandering her back, her sides. Plying at the soft flesh of her hips. Meren's own hands roving over his chest, his shoulders. Reveling in every last whine and chirr her touch had elicited from the scribe.
The mildly salacious exchange had only come to an end when Variks had been the first to pull away. Growling to himself, he had shooed Meren from his lap and ushered her to the security suite's exit. Once they had reached the door, he had offered her one last nudge to the top of her head before sending her to walk back to her room.
Alone.
Meren pulled the pillow over her head and groaned as the mortification over what had happened - how she had acted - began to set in. How could she have behaved like that? What was wrong with her?
I was just tired, she told herself, not thinking clearly.
But the sorry excuse did nothing to make her feel any better. In truth, tired or not, she had known full well what she was doing when she had caved to Variks' affections. And once she had, Meren had been powerless to stop herself, only further encouraging the exchange.
And she had enjoyed every last second of it.
Now horrified not so much over what had happened, but by her own apparent lack of self-restraint, Meren clenched her pillow tighter as her thoughts continued to spiral downward. What if Variks hadn't put an end to it? she allowed herself to wonder. What would have happened then?
If only for a moment, her mind momentarily considered a whole host of filthy, intimate acts that she knew were (theoretically) possible between a human and an Eliksni. Abruptly pulling her brain from the gutter, she cast the thoughts aside.
Who was she kidding? Nothing of the sort would have happened. Firstly, because even if she apparently had no qualms about getting handsy with an Eliksni, she never would have agreed to anything more intimate. And secondly, even if out of the millions of Eliksni in the system there was one curious enough to want to take a tumble with a human, it wasn't going to be Variks. It wasn't going to be a scribe.
Reaching for her datapad again, she woke the device, dismissed Hiro's message, and delved straight into her cache of personal data files - just to double check something. Rifling through her private research notes, she located a file titled /HouseJudgement/ and tapped on the screen, a single page of text filling the display.
The sparse notes on the screen served only to confirm what she already knew: the scribes of House Judgement were traditionally allowed no mates, no offspring. The lack of familial ties solidified their loyalty to their own house, ensuring they functioned as impartial mediators. In addition, scribes were expressly forbidden from any other sort of romantic connection - and all the acts that came along with it, lest the intimate nature of such relationships cloud their judgement.
With that, Meren let the datapad's screen dim and flicker into standby, reassured that Variks' affections would have gone no further. He was far too concerned with honor to do something so expressly forbidden - something that would only serve to bring his own honor into question.
And yet he was the one who had initiated the entire exchange. Why, if not with amorous intentions in mind?
But after considering the scribe's fixation with honor a moment longer, Meren realized she was being ridiculous and dismissed the notion from her head for the last time. The idea that Variks' actions had been born out of romantic desire was ludicrous. He wasn't interested in her - not like that; his affections meant nothing.
The reality of the matter was that his actions almost certainly stemmed from loneliness. That's all there was to it. Variks had been secluded in the Prison for decades, and Eliksni, like humans, were far too social of creatures to thrive in that kind of isolation. It was no wonder that after all those years of solitude, he had found himself overly-eager for the comfort of another being's touch.
Confident in her own assessment, Meren laid abed for a few minutes longer and let their affectionate exchange play over once again in her head before her dismay slowly eased. They hadn't truly done something scandalous, she reasoned, at least not by human standards. Obviously they were going to have to talk about what had happened, but once they did, she was certain they could agree that it had been a mistake and put it behind them. Then they could go right back to how things were before, enjoying every moment of each other's company - as friends.
With that she rolled out of bed and made for the bathroom to wash up for the day. Quickly finishing her morning routine, she slipped into a clean set of clothes, something nicer than usual. Then, after checking herself in the mirror, she grabbed her cloak, tugging it about her shoulders before she reached for her satchel and turned to the door.
Just before she raised her hand to the access panel she paused, looking at Variks' datapad sitting dormant on her desk, and briefly entertained the idea of staying in her room to get some more reading done. She had hardly had any time to make it through the remaining Eliksni data files with how invested she'd become in their experiment with Kotoc. And now was as good a time as any.
But as tempting as it seemed, Meren knew that hiding in her room all day to read wasn't going to solve anything. No, what she needed to do was go to the Prison, sit down with Variks, and talk about what had happened between them. Like the rational, grown adults that they were.
Simple as that.
So, with her own words of wisdom in mind, Meren sat down at her desk, waking the Eliksni datapad, and set herself to reading the longest, most riveting file she could find on the mechanics of Ether synthesization in Servitors.
It was several hours and several re-reads of the data file later before Meren finally slunk out of her room and back to the Prison. In no rush, she took the most circuitous route through the residence sector to the transport hub. From there she meandered across the sprawling causeway, averting her eyes as she squeezed through the sizable throng of Guardians loitering at the Prison's entrance. Once she made it inside, Meren quickened her steps and set herself on a course for the control room, certain that Variks would be there; he always was.
The thought of turning back - facing Variks tomorrow - crossed her mind briefly as she navigated the dank corridors. But Meren cast the notion aside - there was no point in putting it off any longer - and pressed onward, letting her feet guide her forward, until she reached her destination in the heart of the Prison.
Coming to a halt before the control room doors, she steeled herself for a moment, fully expecting upon her entrance to be met with some snide comment about how late she was. Or worse. Some smug remark about how much she had enjoyed what had happened the prior night.
But, as the hatch slid open and Meren stepped tentatively into the doorway, Variks turned, looking up slowly from his work at the console, and merely inquired, "How was your rest?"
"Quite pleasant, thank you." She clasped her hands together in front of herself, doing her best to meet his gaze. "And yours?"
"Pleasant as well."
"I'm...glad to hear that." An uncomfortable silence filled the room for a moment until Meren, desperate to make conversation, continued, "Looks like all the Guardians are back. Is the Servitor still-?"
"Functioning as intended?" Variks cut in, "Yess."
"And the area repairs?"
"Sufficient for the time being."
"Well, that's good news, at least." She paused, shifting her weight between her feet. "Are there any chores that I can-?"
"Already done."
"Oh." Meren's eyes fell to the floor. "Well, if everything's done, maybe we can get back to doing some research... for our experiment."
"No." Variks rose from the console and turned from the array of monitors. "Not today."
"Then...was there something else you had in mind?" she asked. Her stomach unsettled itself when he didn't respond for a second. He was surely about to say they needed to discuss what had happened last night.
Yet Variks said nothing of the sort. He merely replied with, "Horticulture," as he retrieved his staff and crossed the room, continuing on by her without so much as a glance in her direction.
"What?"
Meren saw him pause at the door, shaking his head, and prepared herself for the inevitable jab about her grasp, or lack thereof, of the English language.
Variks, however, only sighed and stepped out into the corridor. "Follow me."
Meren blinked after him for a moment before throwing her cloak and satchel onto the nearby coat hook and scampering back through the doorway in his wake. Careening out into the hallway, she found Variks already halfway to the lift. Doing her best to catch up with him, she quickened her pace. But for once, Variks didn't slow down to let her walk beside him. And unable to keep up with his breakneck pace, Meren was forced to slink after him, a silent shadow in his wake.
After a stiflingly quiet lift ride they reached the Prison's highest levels. Variks then proceeded to navigate them down the arcuate corridor, past the half-moon door that led to the balcony they had visited once before, and to another set of doors at the hallway's end. When the hatch opened, Variks stepped inside and paused to glance over his shoulder at Meren standing motionless in the doorway.
"Horticulture," was all she said, a look of wonder on her face as she took in the space before them.
Beneath the solarium's expansive arched glass ceiling, a kaleidoscopic assemblage of alien plants lined makeshift shelves, meticulously organized beneath dozens of artificial light fixtures. A battered Häkke weapons crate near the door served as an improvised workbench, its surface covered in gardening implements. Atop another crate in the corner sat what appeared to be laboratory equipment: vials and trays and a mysterious 'oven' of some kind.
Meren was allowed only a moment to stare around the solarium-turned-greenhouse before Variks abruptly dropped a small pair of shears into her hand. Looking first at the shears, then to him, she forced a smile. "I didn't take you for a gardener."
"I never cease to surprise, yess?" he said, sounding utterly detached.
Accepting the shallow, metal tray Variks held out to her next, she sighed, disheartened, "Yeah."
Pressing the edge of his staff against Meren's back, he guided her a few steps forward to the shelving along the far wall. Without preamble, he extended a claw toward a slender amethyst plant nestled in a small pot before them and instructed, "Trim the leaves at the stem." He gestured then to the tray in her hand. "And put them here."
"All of them?"
"No," he said wearily, "Every third leaf. Or the plant will die."
"Oh," she murmured, feeling silly to have even suggested such a thing.
"Gather only from this one," he pointed to the plant before them and then the one next to it, "and that one. No others. Understand?"
"Yes."
He eyed her for a second, seemingly waiting for her barrage of questions. But when none came, he turned, glancing over his shoulder, and said, "When you have finished, let me know." He walked away without another word, Meren's sullen gaze following him as he set about his own work on the other side of the room.
Pulling her eyes away from him after a moment, Meren forced her focus back to the task before her. After fiddling with the shears in her hand, opening and closing them once or twice, she tentatively reached out, pushing past the plant's swirling violet tendrils, and began snipping at the base of every third leaf, as Variks had instructed. Meren made short work of pruning the first plant, and when she had finished, she moved onto the next, steadily filling her tray with a colorful assortment of clippings.
As her trimming neared completion, Meren paused and glanced over to the next row of shelves where Variks was silently unearthing some sort of twisted tuber from a long, rectangular planter. Brushing the excess soil from the root, his shoulders rose and fell slightly in a sigh as he set it into a tray of his own. He turned then, taking his harvest over to the workbench on the far side of the room, and fed the tray into the peculiar piece of machinery.
The machine whirred quietly, doing Traveler-knows-what for a long minute as Variks leaned over the workbench, his claws drumming lightly against the edge. Waiting. But as he stood there a few seconds longer, Meren saw his composure falter and his head droop. His claws ceased their rhythmic tapping, curling slowly into fists.
When she saw his shoulders slump next, so too did her heart. Is he embarrassed by what happened? she wondered, watching Variks turn away from the workbench and make his way back to the shelf beside hers. Was that why he was behaving so strangely? Or was there some other reason.
She wasn't sure. And she wasn't about to ask.
So Meren watched him a moment longer until Variks, seeming to sense her eyes on him, turned slowly toward her. No sooner had his weary gaze found hers, than she realized that what she saw in his eyes - in the slump of his shoulders, wasn't Eliksni embarrassment at all. It was worse. What she saw there was dishonor.
Consumed by a sudden rush of guilt, her mind began to race. Had last night's exchange crossed the line into something that was forbidden? If so, she was just as much at fault as he was, and she needed to say something - she needed to apologize for her part in what had happened. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth, fumbling for the right words.
"Meren," Variks began before she could get a single word out, "I owe you an apology. For what happened last night. My behavior was inexcusable." Looking positively penitent, he extended all four hands, palms up. "If my actions caused you to feel uncomfortable, I am sincerely-"
"They didn't…" she reflexively said in an attempt to reassure him, a flush rising in her cheeks as soon as the inadvertent admission left her mouth.
"Ahhh," he purred in the way he always did, self-assured and smug. Yet his next words managed to come out sounding contrite, "All the same, I am sorry if I was too...forward. It should not have happened in that manner."
"I appreciate that," she replied, too consumed with her own culpability to think anything of what his apology had actually entailed, "but… I'm the one who should be apologizing. To you. You offered to take me back to my room, and...I wasn't thinking...and-" She paused to quell her stammering and collect herself. "I never meant to do something that would jeopardize your honor."
All of Variks' eyes narrowed. "My honor?"
"Yeah." A little nod. "I know scribes are forbidden from engaging in any sort of romantic activ-"
"Who told you that?" he snapped.
"No one." Well, technically no one she knew personally. "I just heard something about it years ago on one of the Academy's recordings…"
Her words were met only with silence from the scribe.
"It's true, though, isn't it?" she asked, suddenly fearing that she had grossly mis-translated something. "There are rules against scribes taking mates or having hatchlings. Or-"
"You speak of the old ways. The scribe's creed, yess?"
Meren squinted, every ounce of uncertainty plain on her face. "Yes?"
"What more do you know?" he practically snapped again.
"Nothing."
Humming, Variks scrutinized her for a moment too long.
"Did I get something wrong?" she questioned. "Maybe my translations were…"
"No. You have the right of it...In part. The creed speaks of no mates, no hatchlings. No...romantic indulgences." Variks' eyes shifted away from hers. "But the exact wording is ambiguous. Leaves these guidelines...open to interpretation."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means nothing," he replied briskly. "I was merely 'thinking aloud'."
"But you-"
Quick to cut her off, Variks continued, a discernable trace of guile in his voice. "Your concern over these matters is appreciated. But this is a scribe's worry, yes?" A wave of his hand dismissed her protest. "Not for you to trouble yourself over."
Brow furrowing, Meren dared open her mouth to demand clarification. She wasn't about to stand for his evasiveness.
But Variks wasn't finished. "For now, merely know you have done no harm to my honor . Nor to your own."
"Uh huh."
Ignoring her incredulity, his voice was softer - smoother - when he replied, "That said, it seems we have exchanged needless apologies, yess? So let us speak no further of the past. Let us put it behind us. Move forward."
Thoroughly confused at this point yet not wanting to put him back in a sullen mood by pressing him further, she bobbed her head in agreement. But not before making a mental note to get to the bottom of the creed's 'ambiguous wording'. Later.
"Ahh, good." Folding his hands together, he looked to the tray in her hand and immediately shifted the conversation back to horticulture, "Now. Back to today's task." He gestured to the tray in her hand. "Show me what you have collected."
A smile formed on Meren's lips as she held the half-full tray of trimmings out for Variks' appraisal. With a thoughtful hum, he paused to eye Meren's harvest before concluding, "That will be enough."
"For what?"
"You will see," he purred back, a glint in his eyes.
Laying his hand on her shoulder, he guided her over to the makeshift lab bench. Clearing some space on the surface, Variks had her set the tray down for a moment while he retrieved the root from inside the piece of machinery. Then the desiccated-looking root was pushed off to the side as Variks turned his focus back to Meren.
"Put your tray into the machine," he directed, tapping its metal housing with a single claw. "Close the door," he pointed then to a red, oblong button, "and press here."
Doing as she was told, she slid the tray into the machine's chamber, closed the transparent hatch, and pressed the button. Once the machine started to hum, she looked expectantly at Variks and asked, "Now what?"
"We wait."
"Forr…?"
"For the machine to finish the ly-oph-ili-za-tion sequence."
Meren cocked a brow. "I don't even know what that means."
"Not surprising," he drawled, a wicked grin in his eyes. Even when the snide remark earned him a swift jab to the side from Meren's elbow, Variks merely chuckled and continued, "It is a process of moisture removal. First, the material is frozen. Then, the pressure is reduced, and the ice sublimates."
She realized then exactly what the machine was doing. "You couldn't have just said 'freeze drying' in the first place?"
"Not my fault your English is so poor."
Screwing her face up in an unconvincing glare, she briefly considered weaponizing her elbow again. But thinking better of it, she simply asked, "So, once the leaves are dried out, what are-"
Already one step ahead of her, Variks reached for a stone mortar and dragged it across the surface of the lab bench. After rummaging around behind the rack of glass vials he produced a similarly-made pestle, dropping it alongside the mortar with a thump. Then, cocking his head and narrowing his outer eyes, he looked at Meren, seemingly waiting for realization to dawn.
Meren stared right back, clueless. In no mood for a guessing game. "Use your words, Variks."
"It is more fun to make you guess."
"Fun for who? You or me?"
"Me," he purred as he retrieved the dried root from its tray and let it fall from his hand into the mortar.
Humoring him, Meren asked, "Are we doing some sort of apothecary work?" She paused, seeing his eyes narrow in a lack of comprehension, "Or do you not know what that means?"
With a forceful snort, Variks straightened up and merely said, "Crush the root."
She didn't bother to hide the smirk on her face as she took the pestle in hand and began to grind the root, splitting it open to reveal its vivid cerulean center. "I don't know how you can possibly know a word like 'lyophilization' and not know what 'apothecary' means."
After huffing again like a sullen child, Variks grumbled, "Tell me."
"No," she said, leaning over to purr just as he had, "It's more fun to make you guess."
Any chance for a retort from the scribe was cut short as a chime drew both of their attention back to the lyophilization machine. Not waiting for further instruction, Meren opened the door and withdrew the tray of shriveled trimmings. "Should I add it to the root?"
When Variks nodded, Meren shook the leaves to the corner of the tray before funnelling them over the edge and into the mortar bowl. Picking up the pestle once more, she glanced at Variks. "And now I grind it all up?"
He bobbed his head again, silently watching her crush the mixture for a moment before he spoke. "'A-pothe-cary' means," his next words came in Eliksni, "chemist, yess?"
"No. It's more like," she finished in Eliksni as well, "medicine-maker." After Variks offered a thoughtful hum in reply, she continued, asking, "What's the Eliksni word for 'lyophilize'?"
"Freeze-dry," he grated out, a smirk in his eyes.
The withering look she gave him only managed to draw a chuckle from the scribe, effectively putting their bickering over linguistics to an end. Meren resumed her apothecary work then, crushing the mortar's contents finer and finer until Variks rested his hand atop hers. "That is enough."
Obediently drawing her hands away from the pestle, Meren watched as Variks procured a piece of parchment paper from behind the rack of glassware and spread it out on the bench in front of them. Picking up the mortar, he poured its contents out onto the paper before reaching for a small, cylindrical phial. After a glance in Meren's direction, he carefully shaped the parchment into a cone with his mechanical hands and funneled the mixture into the phial clutched tight by his other claws.
Once the container was full, Variks fished around the table once again, this time for an appropriately-sized cork. When he finally found one that fit, he twisted it firmly into the neck of the phial, securing the contents within.
"So, what is it?" Meren asked then, unable to keep her curiosity at bay any longer.
Variks said nothing for several seconds as he held the little container up for inspection, its contents shifting between cerulean and violet in the light. With a grunt that must have meant he found whatever-it-was acceptable, he extended it to Meren. "It is for you," he finally said, pressing the phial into her palms. "To make tea whenever you like." Holding her gaze, his secondary hands cupped around hers, ensuring the delicate vessel was secure in her grasp.
Utterly smitten by the gesture, Meren very nearly melted into the floor as she stared back at him, her hands enclosed in his. A stupid grin spread across her face, a part of her wanting so badly to tell him how sweet he was - how charming. "I- Variks…" But the rest of the words never made it out of her mouth, the pesky, logical part of her brain having none of it and allowing her only to finish with, "Thank you."
Returning her thanks with a faint purr, Variks let his hands fall away. "I can furnish you with Ether for your tea, as well. If you would like."
"No," Meren replied mildly. As generous as his offer was, she couldn't accept Ether from him; he needed it a hell of a lot more than she did. "I'm sure the tea will be perfect without it."
Though he said nothing in reply, there was a smile in his eyes as he graciously inclined his head.
Variks gave her a proper tour of the solarium then, showing her the different plants and explaining their origins. Most were Awoken cultivars - shimmering fronds indigenous to the Reef. There were a few twisted, bifurcating brackens native to terraformed Venus. The rest, Meren recognized, were terrestrial - leafy green vegetation she had seen in the City and outside its walls.
Not all of it was for tea, he briefly explained. Several of the plants had other, medicinal purposes. A few bore edible fruit. And the others, toxic to both Eliksni and humans, Variks kept around only because they were pleasant to look at. Or so he said.
Once she had seen nearly everything, Variks wrapped up his tour and headed for the door. But on the way out, a tiny, cyan bud ensconced beneath a glass cloche caught Meren's eye. He hadn't mentioned it in his exposition, and when she asked about it, he paused, his gaze fixed on the sprout, before replying in Eliksni with only its name.
"Moon-flower."
Her heart leapt at his words - at the implication that the plant before them, or at least its ancestors, was indigenous to Riis. She hoped he would tell her more, but Variks, apparently having no desire to speak further about his homeworld's native vegetation, said nothing else and continued on past Meren through the room's exit. Pausing before she followed, Meren couldn't help but take one last look over her shoulder at the little bud - likely the last of its kind - clinging to life on an alien star. So far from home.
Once they left the solarium behind, Variks became a little more talkative again, laying out plans for the resumption of their research on the following day. Between getting the Prison back in order and Meren's extreme tardiness, two days had already gone to waste. And the scribe seemed eager for the chance to get back to work on their little project.
Equally enticed by the prospect, Meren agreed to Variks' plan, promising to arrive in a more timely fashion the next morning. After that, Variks fell to explaining the best way for Meren to steep her tea as they wound their way back through the labyrinth of passages. At his side, Meren was only half listening, content to turn the phial of tea over in her hands, enraptured not only by the shifting iridescence within, but by the strikingly sentimental nature of Variks' gift.
When they reached the control room, Meren made to retrieve her cloak and satchel from where it hung by the door. Her earlier dawdling had cost most of the day, after all. And though she didn't know exactly what time it was, she figured that it was late enough that she should be getting back to her room. She didn't need to be inadvertently falling asleep in the Prison two nights in a row.
But just as Meren's hands closed around the fabric of the cloak, she paused as she saw Variks' claws tighten around his staff. Understanding his body language enough at this point to know he had something to say, she let her hand fall away from the cloak.
Shifting his weight slightly as Meren fully turned to face him, he met her eyes before finally speaking up. "I know it is late," he began, uncharacteristically hesitant. "But, perhaps if you need not hurry back to your room, you could stay a little longer," his outer eyes fell closed, his next words the very last thing Meren expected to hear come out of his mouth, "...and have dinner with me."
Meren's jaw went slack, her mouth falling open slightly. Had he seriously just invited her to share a meal with him? Realizing she must look incredibly stupid standing there with her mouth hanging open, she pulled herself together and offered him a faint smile. Late or not, the offer of dinner wasn't one she was going to pass up, and she accepted as graciously as she could, "I would be honored."
"No." He shook his head, squaring his shoulders before he spread his arms and inclined himself in a deep bow. "The honor would be mine."
The smile on her lips blossomed into a thoroughly idiotic grin. Willing away the equally stupid jitter that had decided to spring to life in her stomach, she was quick to return the gesture, lest the moment be ruined by her rudeness.
She heard the scribe rumble in approval, and when she straightened back up, there was a grin in Variks' eyes that rivaled her own. "Please," he said, drawing back a chair at the room's only table and motioning for her to sit, "make yourself comfortable."
And so she did, accepting the seat that he offered, unable to wipe the stupid, stupid smile off her face.
It was a long twenty minutes before Variks finally returned to the control room, a heaping platter of food and two tall glasses occupying all of his hands. Looking up from the datapad she had been perusing to pass the time, Meren offered him a smile as he rounded the table and set the platter at its center. Wasting no time in emptying his other hands, he distributed the glasses between them, placing one before Meren and the other, wispy tendrils of Ether smoldering from the brim, across the table.
Doing her best to be polite, Meren powered the datapad down and pushed it aside, turning her full attention to the odd assortment of food laid out before her. Piled high, the platter held all the makings of a proper Eliksni dinner, meticulously separated into four sections. There were what appeared to be two types of oblate fruit, small enough to be consumed in a single bite. Chunks of airy bread with a pleasantly golden crust. And finally some sort of meat, cubed and seared just past the point of being raw.
Though Meren had had some idea of what to expect, considering Eliksni's preferred diets, her stomach still turned over at the sight of the oozing chunks on the platter. Doing her best to keep the disdain off her face, she looked to Variks as he began to give a rundown of everything on the table.
"Reef figs and dates," he explained, pointing to each in turn, "from the Queen's gardens." His claw wandered lazily to the next item. "Bread. From the Dreaming City's bakeries. And," he paused, gesturing with his whole hand to the remaining pile of barely-cooked meat, "flesh."
His choice in words, along with his lack of elaboration, only unsettled her stomach further, and fearing the worst, she asked, "What kind of flesh?"
"Hive."
Meren visibly blanched, inhaling sharply through her teeth. As much as she didn't want to be rude, there was no way she could possibly bring herself to ingest Hive.
Seeing the color drain from her face, Variks' eyes widened. "A joke," he quickly reassured. "It comes from one of your Earth animals."
That didn't make it much better. For all Meren knew, they were about to be dining on cat. "Which one?" she squeaked.
"A cow, Meren," he clarified gently, putting an immediate end to her unease. "Nothing out of the ordinary." As the color began to return to Meren's face, Variks extended his hand, palm up, to the final item on the table. "Last of all, to drink. A herbal infusion of my own design. Think of it as a...cold tea."
"With Ether?" She glanced at his steaming glass.
"Yess," he replied, noticing where she was looking, "But yours does not contain quite as much as mine. For obvious reasons."
"That's very thoughtful of you."
"I 'aim to please'," Variks said, purring out the human cliché.
"Everything looks wonderful, Variks." She smiled at him as he finally found his seat opposite her. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble."
"I assure you, it was no trouble." He spread his palms. "Not for you."
A quizzical look crossed her face for just a second, but there was no time to dwell on his words. She had bigger worries. Variks' carefully-prepared meal was waiting, and, she realized, she knew nothing about the protocol for dining with an Eliksni.
Looking to Variks for guidance, she watched as he began to delicately remove the gloves from his lower hands. "You understand that, to Eliksni, sharing a meal is a symbol of great trust, yess? Between friends. Or confidants. Or mates," he questioned, exposing his wickedly sharp claws as the gloves were peeled away. "Not to be taken lightly."
Meren nodded respectfully; she understood.
"Ahh," he purred, flexing his fingers a couple of times before setting the gloves neatly aside. "Then I need not delay dinner any longer, telling you what you already know. You must be hungry."
She nodded again, and not wanting to do something inadvertently offensive, asked, "Are there any rules I should be aware of?"
"Rules?" He tilted his head, inner eyes narrowed. "No. We merely eat. Talk. Enjoy each other's company. The same as humans do."
"I suppose I can handle that."
"I am certain you can," Variks replied, a grin in his voice. "But...there is one, last thing. Before we begin." Pausing, he met her eyes. "I...must remove this," he gestured to his mask, "to eat."
Of course he did. How else was he planning to get food into his mouth? "And?"
"Merely a warning."
Her heart sank a little at his comment. A warning? Was he really afraid that she was going to find him unpleasant? Surely he understood that Meren knew what Eliksni looked like.
With Meren's eyes on him, Variks hesitated a moment longer before he reached up and slowly unfastened his mask. Closing his outer eyes to soften the blow, he pulled the chainmail covering and vocal synth aside, revealing his elegantly gaunt face, and stared at Meren with jaws clenched firmly shut, waiting to see her inevitable fear - her revulsion.
But none came.
Completely unbothered, Meren peered back at him, struck only by how strange it was to have spent so much time with someone and to never have actually seen their face. But that was so often how it went with Eliksni, she reasoned. And yet Variks was making an exception for his friend - for her. And she couldn't help but smile.
Seeing her smile, Variks parted his jaws slightly in return, revealing rows of thin, razor sharp teeth, in his best attempt to mimic the expression on Meren's face. The 'grin' that resulted was monstrous by human standards, and yet, it only managed to widen the smile on Meren's own face.
"You're insufferable," she muttered, shaking her head.
A soft mirthful huff left his mouth and he replied in English, his voice a grating hiss without the vocal synth to clarify his words, "As are you."
Meren's intractable smile never faded as she gazed at him a moment longer, her eyes tracing the wispy silver scars that dotted his angular cheeks. Was he handsome by Eliksni standards? she wondered. Or haggard? His face certainly wasn't unpleasant. At least not to her eyes. And after mulling it over a second longer, she quickly decided that maybe he was handsome, after all.
Oblivious to her private assessment, Variks cocked his head ever so slightly. Curious. "You do not find me revolting?"
"No." The smile melted from her face, her brows knitting together. "Why would I?"
"Most humans - Awoken - do."
"I'm not most humans, Variks," she said before reminding him, "I'm 'special', remember?"
Forced to face his own words, the scribe sounded almost uncomfortable when he replied, "I remember."
When Variks said no more, she couldn't help but ask, "What about you? Do you find me revolting?"
His glowing eyes flitted over her, swiftly taking in every inch of her that was visible above the table. "No."
Meren felt a surge of unexpected relief at his words. "Well, now that we've gotten that out of the way," she said. "Can we eat?"
Steepling all twelve of his fingers as his eyes trailed from Meren, to the meal between them, and back, Variks nodded slowly. "You first," he purred, "I insist."
No pressure, right?
With no utensils in sight, Meren resigned herself to the fact that she was going to have to eat the Eliksni way: using her hands. Glancing down at them, she hesitated a second, considering just how filthy they must be before she quickly buried her qualms about bacteria and reached for the least-raw piece of flesh on the platter. Fully aware that Variks' eyes were on her, she popped it into her mouth and chewed it over as politely as she could.
The rare meat squelched between her teeth, its cool juices coating her tongue, while Meren continued chewing, trying desperately to keep a straight face. She could feel her stomach beginning to protest, but was it really any different than the raw fish the City's ramen establishments occasionally served alongside their signature dish? No, she told herself and managed to swallow it down.
Despite the roil in her gut, she promptly reached for seconds. Mulling it over much like the first, she watched as Variks finally reached for the platter, selected the bloodiest piece, and brought it to his mouth. Then, positively refined in comparison to what she had seen from other Eliksni, Variks modestly chewed the morsel over a few times, barely parting his jaws, before swallowing it down.
He took another, finishing the second piece without incident, and was reaching for more when, seeming to sense Meren's gawking eyes on him, his hand froze just short of the platter. Meeting her gaze, he asked, "Is something wrong?"
She forced the mystified look off of her face. "Not at all."
"Then why are you staring?"
"I didn't mean to," she said, apologetic. "It's just that…I didn't expect you to be so polite."
Variks chattered in displeasure. "Perhaps you would prefer me to behave more like Eliksni, yess?"
"No-" But her words came too late.
Tossing another raw piece of flesh into his mouth, Variks made a horrifying display of chewing it in the most disgusting manner possible, turning the morsel over in his mouth while gnashing his jaws to rend it to shreds. Eyes wide, he continued, his efforts producing all manner of nauseating sounds, until the mass in his maw was no longer recognizable as food. Finally swallowing it down, he held Meren's mortified gaze as he ran his long tongue slowly around his mouth and over his mandibles before raising a hand to pick a bit of shredded flesh out from between his teeth with one of his claws.
After studying the scrap he had pried loose for far too long, he flicked it from his claws down onto the table and purred, "Shall I continue?"
"Please don't."
"Good," he huffed. "Only brutes conduct themselves in such manner. Never a scribe."
Fearing that she had offended him, Meren fixed her eyes on the plate and chewed over her food in silence. Only after a belated chuckle from the scribe seemingly absolved her of all wrongdoing, did Meren glance back up to find Variks helping himself to a drink of his Ether-infused beverage.
"Tell me, Meren," he began in an attempt to start a conversation after his appalling display. "When you go back to your City, what will you do?"
Struck by the vagueness of the question, Meren hesitated before answering, "Teach?" Truth be told she had given next to no thought about returning to the City. Her sabbatical in the Reef was supposed to last for another month at least. "The next semester doesn't start for quite a while, but I suppose I'll have lesson plans and syllabi to put together before the students come back. If the Academy ever releases the course schedule…"
"Apart from that."
"I don't know." Was he asking about her hobbies? "Write a book, probably."
"What about?" he asked, his interest apparent as he leaned in, resting his chin in one of his hands.
"Well, I have a couple of things in mind. But, maybe I'll start with something about Archon's Forge. I haven't written anything on the topic, and you've told me enough at this point for an entire dissertation, so it shouldn't be too hard to get a book out of it." She reached for her glass and took a sip. "Once I'm done with it, I'll even credit you as a co-author, if you want."
Variks chuckled, similarly picking up his cup and gesturing to her with it. "I appreciate your consideration. But...no."
"Your loss," she grinned back at him.
Setting his glass down, Variks hummed. "Is there anything else? Any other duties you must attend to?"
"No?" What was he getting at? "I mostly keep myself busy with work at the Academy...I don't have time for much else."
"Ah," he said before finally revealing the true intent behind his vague line of questioning, "But what of your work with the Vanguard?"
"What about it?" Meren asked, looking up slowly from her mug. She had mentioned her work with the Vanguard to Variks only once, and even then she hadn't gone into detail, knowing that he would be displeased to hear just how much information she had furnished to the military. But in spite of her lack of elaboration on the matter, she knew Variks wasn't stupid and had figured that he was at least partially aware of what her duties as a consultant entailed.
His gaze met hers, his next words serving only to confirm her suspicion. "You will continue advising them, yess?"
"Until my contract is up," she said. Dodging the subject was pointless. "I don't have much of a choice."
"Mmm," Variks hummed, pensive, his eyes never leaving hers.
It hit her then, why he was asking. Dinner with an Eliksni was based on trust, after all. "I'm not going to tell them anything about the data files you gave me, if that's what you're getting at."
"Ahhh." Steepling his claws, all of his eyes narrowed. "But what if they should ask about Ketches. Or Servitors. Or Skiffs?"
Meren knew what was expected of her and without missing a beat, replied, "Unfortunately, I wouldn't know any more than what I've told them in the past. Why would a trip to the Reef suddenly make me an expert in Eliksni technology?"
Variks offered another contemplative hum. "And...what if they ask about me? What will you tell them of Variks?"
"Nothing," she breathed.
"Why not?"
"There's nothing to tell."
"Is there not?"
"No." She gazed intently back at him. "I only had the pleasure of making Variks, the Loyal's acquaintance on one occasion. And unfortunately, he turned out to be one of the grumpiest, most arrogant, stubborn Eliksni I have ever met - and that's saying something. On top of all that, his manners were atrocious. And his English was terrible - some of the worst I've ever heard." Meren couldn't help but smirk slightly as she delivered the jab. "At the end of the day, he didn't like me, and I didn't like him. So, I saw no reason to waste my time trying to talk to Variks ever again."
His eyes glittered, his jaws parting in another disconcerting 'grin'. "How unfortunate."
"It really is."
But even then Variks was apparently still not satisfied. "And you will say nothing of Psion wavelengths or telepathy, yess?"
"No," she replied, emphatic. Hadn't she proved herself already? Didn't he trust her? "Why are you asking me all this?"
Variks took another bite of food, chewing it over before answering with an uncommon gravity in his voice, "You understand I have disclosed a great deal of sensitive information to you, Meren. Information that, in the wrong hands, could cost Eliksni lives." He extended a dagger-like claw in her direction. "I merely seek to ensure your discretion. Ensure that my trust has not been...misplaced."
"It hasn't," she replied.
Variks' eyes never left hers, a hardness there she hadn't seen before. "And if I should entrust you with more…?"
Like what? she so badly wanted to ask. But what she said instead was, "I'll treat it with the same discretion as everything else you've shared with me."
Turning his gaze to his claws, Variks flexed his fingers again and afforded her one, last scrutinizing hum.
"I promise you," Meren continued, desperate to reassure him. "I would never do anything to make you regret entrusting me with so much."
Variks was silent as looked up and studied her face. After a long moment the hardness left his eyes and he replied in a soft purr, "Of course not." Seizing his glass, the issue was seemingly put to rest as he took another drink.
Finally allowing herself a slight frown, she grumbled, "Are you done interrogating me?"
"For now."
"Good. Because I have some questions of my own - for you."
Sitting back in his chair, Variks crossed his lower arms. "That is fair."
Meaning to finally ask him about the scribe's creed, she paused, remembering his earlier evasiveness. He had said it was none of her concern. Was asking now, over dinner, really the best time to press him?
"Go on. Ask your questions." Variks said softly when she continued to hesitate.
At his gentle urging, Meren put aside her reservations and finally spit it out. "I...want to know what the scribe's creed says. All of it. Verbatim."
Thankfully Variks didn't berate her this time. He merely scoffed, turning his gaze to the ceiling. "You think I have it memorized?"
"No," she dared to counter him, "I know you do."
Variks responded with a chittering laugh. "You overestimate my memory."
"I doubt that," she said. "But if you find that, in your old age, your mind isn't as sharp as it used to be, I'll settle for a summary."
His eyes blazed at her insolence, his mandibles flared. But when he spoke, his voice sounded light. Unbothered. "Even in summary, the creed is long. Technical, yess? I do not wish to bore with such tedium."
"You think I'm going to get bored?" She nearly laughed. "Honestly, Variks. You know me better than that."
"Yess," he purred, "but did you consider that perhaps I meant I would be the one to 'get bored'."
"You didn't get bored when we talked about Archon's Forge for three days in a row."
"Why are you so persistent?"
"I thought you liked that about me?" He had said that it was one of his 'better qualities' - and hers.
Shaking his head, Variks let out a long sigh. "Very well. I will send you a data file of the creed in its entirety," he relented, adding the caveat, "After dinner. Then, tomorrow, I will answer any questions you may have."
"Fine," Meren replied. It was as good as she was going to get. "I look forward to reading it tonight. And bothering you about it tomorrow."
If he was annoyed by her proposal, Variks didn't show it. He merely nodded and helped himself to two figs from the center of the table.
They both took a few seconds then to actually eat then, Meren delving into the bread and Variks back into the meat. After finishing off several pieces, Variks glanced back to Meren and broke the silence. "Anything else you wish to ask?" he said before quickly adding, "Not about the creed."
"Hmm," she mulled it over for a beat, food still in her mouth. "Since you asked me what I plan to do when I go back to the City. I guess I want to know what your plans are. After I leave."
An inquisitive look crossed his face. He surely thought it a stupid question. But he answered nonetheless. "I will be here. As always," he began slowly, ''In service to the Reef. To my Queen." He paused just long enough for Meren to think he had nothing more to say before uttering one, final word, "Rebuilding."
She blinked back at him. "Rebuilding what?"
"House Judgement."
Meren screwed up her eyes at his unexpected answer. After all the conversations they had had, he had never once made mention of doing anything besides running the Prison and carrying out his pet experiments. Why hadn't he said anything about this before?
And more to the point, while it seemed a noble goal, to be sure, how was one scribe going to manage to rebuild an entire House? From the confines of a prison, no less?
But Variks didn't give her any time to dwell on - or to ask - any of those questions as he immediately followed up his response by inquiring, "Have I ever told you how I came into possession of my staff?"
Meren shook her head, instantly intrigued to hear what was sure to be another one of Variks' ridiculous stories.
Variks promptly began his recount then, starting the fascinating tale as dramatically as only he could. "Long ago, I knew a Devil Captain named Vajis. Called Clever-Headed by some…"
And just like that, all Meren's questions about rebuilding House Judgement were gone.
After Variks' account of how he conned Vajis, the apparently not-so-clever-headed out of his staff, the rest of dinner went off without a hitch. Reef holidays and Awoken traditions became the topic of conversation as they steadily worked through the mountain of food between them. Then, when the discussion somehow ended up turning to Petra, Variks was all too happy to spin another tale - this time about how the Queen's Wrath had managed to lose her eye - until the contents of the platter they shared began to dwindle. After that Variks finished off the last of the meat, and Meren the figs, as they revisited their plans for the following day one last time.
Only once their glasses were drained and the conversation reached a natural lull, did Variks rise from his chair, round the table, and offer Meren his hand, effectively signaling that their dinner had come to an end.
After helping her up from her seat, Variks courteously offered Meren his arm and escorted her all of fifteen steps to the door. Upon releasing her, he folded all of his hands, tilted his head, and gently asked, "How was your dinner? Was everything to your liking?"
"Well, apart from the impeccable company, the bread and figs were superb. And so were the dates," she said, truthfully adding, "But...no fault of your own, the meat- the meat was a little rare for my taste."
"My apologies." Variks didn't even bother to hide the amusement on his face. "Next time I will ensure your food is cooked more...thoroughly."
Next time? Finding herself enticed by the prospect, she smiled at him. "And when will that be?"
"Perhaps we could have dinner again. Tomorrow 'evening'," he said, pausing as Meren's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Or sooner. If you wished to stay for...what is your word... breakfast."
The suggestive implication behind his words gave her pause. But he obviously couldn't have meant anything inappropriate. So, dismissing the thought, she innocently asked, "Couldn't I just come back in the morning?"
"You could." All of his eyes squinted. "But I take my morning meal very early."
"Then I'll be back very early," she replied as she turned to grab her belongings, catching a glimpse of Variks rubbing a hand over his face out of the corner of her eye.
But Variks quickly recovered, and before she managed to take a single step in the right direction, he swept past her. "Allow me," he purred, retrieving her cloak from where it hung by the door. With a glint in his eye, he returned to her side, flourished the fabric for good measure, and draped it about her shoulders.
Positioning himself behind her then, Variks took his time straightening the cloak, his unhurried hands running over the fabric. Finding herself smitten for the second time that day, Meren said nothing as he rounded out the charming gesture by reaching around her to fasten the clasp at her neck.
When his hands retreated, she remembered her courtesy and glanced back at him over her shoulder. "Thank you for dinner, Variks. Everything was wonderful, and you were such a gracious host. I only hope that I conducted myself appropriately...by Eliksni standards."
"You did," he rumbled, his voice impossibly close to her ear. "It was an honor sharing my table with you. And I look forward to doing so again."
"So do I," she whispered.
The words were barely out of her mouth before she felt the slightest prick of claws brushing her hair away from the back of her neck. Before whatever was happening could continue, Meren whirled around, a questioning look plastered across her face, only to find Variks standing there with all his arms drawn up against his chest - wrists limp, his head tilted innocently back at her. As if he hadn't done anything at all.
The sight of him frozen there, looking like some sort of giant praying mantis, brought a smirk to her lips, and she immediately dismissed his little transgression.
Letting his arms relax, Variks blinked slowly back at her. "Are you certain you must go?"
She let out a little huff of laughter. "What are we going to do if I stay? Continue talking about Awoken holidays? Or Petra's-"
But the rest of the words never made it out of her mouth, her voice failing her as Variks' lower hands reached out, settling on either side of her hips. "No," he said in as pleasant a voice as he could muster without his vocal synth, "I was thinking we could go somewhere more comfortable...and relax. Perhaps continue where we 'left off' last night."
Meren's whole body went limp as his impossible words reached her ears. So badly did she want to believe that he was teasing her. But the instant Variks' claws tightened on her hips and he drew her to himself, she knew better.
Craning her head back to look up at him, Meren's brain went momentarily blank when she found herself face-to-face with a grinning mouth full of teeth. Variks only allowed her a second to stare before he leaned in and pressed his muzzle against her cheek, his skin cool and rough against hers.
Meren's eyes went wide. They had just talked about how the creed forbade this sort of thing. What the hell was he doing?
The languid nuzzle that followed was enough to shake some sense into her. And if only for his own good, she ever so slightly pulled her face away from his. "Variks," she warned, "you can't…"
"Why not?" he rumbled, his half-lidded eyes fixed on hers.
"The creed…"
Variks immediately straightened up, his hands falling away from her hips. "Ahh, yes. The scribe's creed." His tone reeked of sarcasm. "How...forgetful of me."
Meren stood motionless. "You didn't forget…"
"No."
"Then why are you-"
"I want you to understand something, Meren," he cut in with a dismissive wave of two hands. "The creed does not state that acts of a romantic nature are expressly forbidden. In reality, the wording implies that they are merely...discouraged."
Meren balked at the revelation. She definitely had mis-translated something.
Allowing her no time to dwell on how very wrong she had been, Variks continued, "And discouraged though they may be, in practice, there is no dishonor if one should choose to indulge. No accolade if one should choose to abstain. House Judgement has never made a business of trifling in scribe's private affairs."
Lost for words, Meren's mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Couldn't he have just said all of that in the first place?
Lazily spreading his lower hands, Variks went on, "And I, the last remaining scribe, continue to uphold this tradition of...leniency. Doing otherwise would be hypocritical." He paused, and his next words sent a shiver through her that lodged itself at the base of her spine, "For I myself have always been one to indulge."
Shit.
Parting his jaws in another mimicry of a grin, he purred, "Does that alleviate your confusion?"
The innocent picture she had painted of the scribe instantly shattered, and all Meren could do was nod.
"Goood." Variks inhaled slowly. "Now that there is no longer any misunderstanding about the creed," he said, his voice a rumbling growl, "if you are interested, perhaps you and I could-"
"No." Finding her voice, she cut him off before he could finish whatever ludicrous proposition he intended to make.
Variks' reaction wasn't nearly what she expected; emotionless, he merely folded his hands and stared, a single, slow blink crossing all of his eyes.
Steadfast in her resolve, Meren stared right back, holding his glowing gaze. Yet as she stood there for a moment longer, her eyes locked with his, she felt that same resolve beginning to crumble, a part of her wanting so badly to feel his arms around her again, his claws against her back. But the voice of reason quickly intervened, and desperate to put some distance between herself and the towering Eliksni, she took a single step backward.
"Goodnight, Variks," she said, her voice a hissed whisper.
Jaws clenched shut, Variks inclined his head ever so slightly in reply, his eyes never leaving hers.
Meren took another step backward. She needed to get out of there before she changed her mind - before she gave in - and let herself do something stupid.
Not giving herself a chance to reconsider, Meren turned then and grabbed her satchel from near the door. And without so much as a backwards glance, she swept out into the hall, the resonating thud of the control room doors snapping shut echoing behind her.
AN: Thank you to long-suffering Keltoi for the edits on this massive chapter! The next one will be shorter. Promise.
