AD ASTRA.

look how they shine for you.

The Eridians.

RULES AND REGULATIONS BENEATH THE CUT.

"No time for questions! Time for moving!"

That was all the answer he was going to get, it seemed, until they reached their destination. Which thankfully, wasn't long. And that only made the Eridian's impatience more confusing. But suddenly, Rocky came to a stop, bouncing up and down in delight.

He chittered and crooned, waving one of his arms delightedly at four other Eridians in xenonite suits that stood before them. The ones that had apparently been waiting for their arrival.

The sorrow they feel is immense, almost too big for their rocky body. They want to reach out and smooth two of their digits across what they assume to be his wrist.

It is a sign of compassion, empty in their people...They hope the message will come across, even to this alien creature. This alien that isn't so alien after all, once all the biology is thrown to the side.

Simon is a prisoner here. One that will die, waste away, rot into nothing.

And that won't stand.

They hiccup a chirp, the sound odd even to themselves. The begging is tragic, and he resembles a youngling more than perhaps either of them would care to admit. Vulnerable and utterly afraid.

"Simon come with-" They sing out their name again, extending a hand and spreading their digits like the whole thing was a performance. "Simon stay as long as he want." Company would be good, perhaps for both of them. They've been alone, the two of them, for longer than any social species should be.

One of their hands extends, digits splayed in offering underneath their skintight xenonite suit.

"Perhaps..." They trail off for a moment, puff hot air from their carapace vents and then straighten with determination. "Simon watch 🎶 sleep. 🎶 watch Simon sleep." Is this strange to ask of an alien being? Maybe....

I just saw Backrooms.

The concept of this alien creature named Simon knowing their sins and sharing their predicament—to an extent, is shocking. They physically recoil their carapace, vents rattle and raise, expelling a puff of steam that one could compare to an exhale of shock.

He was banished from his home world as well. A disgusting sounding planet known as Eden, one that seemed crueler due to his own form of exile. While they had been given the freedom to choose how to be expelled from Eridian society, it seemed by his anger, that he had been forced down here.

Into a vicious sea that reeked of iron and other unpleasant things.

"Am sorry Simon exiled...." They say, the musical tone soft and giving way to a sorrowful inflection.

They extend one of their limbs, gesturing to the hole above where their makeshift ship had delicately docked on top of the submersible. “Sent up in probe. Given supplies to survive two decades. Circle Erid, but-!” They smacked their carapace with another arm, standing erect and proud.

“Smart! Very smart! Rewire probe and leave orbit! Find supplies elsewhere…” That proud hand lowers, scraping the floor through their tight xenonite suit. They droop, crooning lowly. “Been alone fifty-six years.”

Every time they had fallen asleep, it was a risk. A jolt of fear straight through their systems that infected every cell. No one could watch them sleep, and though they knew logically that they were totally and utterly alone…they were also totally and utterly helpless.

A pause, shifting from leg to leg as they consider their next words.

The strange Eridian chirps their distain, but pulls back their stupid stick all the same. “Frustrate, frustrate, frustrate!” They chime, scuttling backwards to put distance between themselves and these strangers. All Eridians are now enemies, and that fact leaves them jaded and cold.

"Everyone know Vexus here." They say bitterly, curling their forearms against the front of their carapace—an agitated crab trying to rest, but part of their body is stiff and tense. Ready to strike at any moment. "Vexus is exile. Bad Eridian." And to accentuate this fact, they tap the spiral shaped marking on one of their shoulders.

@staticbrajn

They had been sleeping for a long time. Three days straight, to be exact. This was a natural part of the Eridian life cycle but...they had grown accustomed to the fact that no one would watch them sleep. That they were completely and utterly alone.

Until Simon came into their life, of course. But old habits were hard to break.

Vexus chirped nervously, stamping all their feet on the ground. "Apology, apology, apology." Their carapace vents rose and fell, a gesture that had come to show when they were overly anxious or felt shamed. Gah, if only they could smack themselves with their stupid stick.

"Vexus sleep. Just sleep, but for long time." Their fingers laced together in front of them, a thoughtful croon escaping them. They should have explained this to him sooner. "Eridians...helpless when sleep. Usually watch each other. Protect. Guard. But..." They chittered and turned away, their faceplate angled in the opposite direction of the man.

"Do not understand words." They respond simply...and that goes for most of what the biped, now designated as Simon, had just said. They crawl along the roof slowly, but the tension has eased out of them slowly like steam from their carapace vents.

Human.

That was what he was. A creature totally and utterly alien to everything they were used to. Under pre-exile circumstances, the science student that was hidden under layers of disdain would have reveled in this discovery. But the pariah of Erid was not as easily charmed by new things as they had once been.

"Am from Erid." They hang upside down, almost like a bat, suspended by two of their limbs. The other three hand listlessly, fidgeting with their digits in a way that could be seen as anxious. "Name is 🎵---" And they sing their name out for him to hear, resisting the urge to press their legs together to show the family crest that has long been rubbed off their body.

How much of their past should they reveal? Will this alien creature Simon shun them for what they had done?

"No longer allowed...to go home. Bad Eridian." They drop to the floor with the grace of a cat, landing on all five feet and instantly raise a finger to tap against the mark carved into their carapace. The mark of a murderer, though theirs does specify it was unintentional.