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The next thing you recall from that day, or perhaps night—the logistics surrounding your wake-up are unclear—was choking. Something is lodged deep in your esophagus and testing the limits of your gag reflex. Your vision was blurry, but you did see the si-if-looking robot arms reaching down toward you. That sent you into an even bigger panic.

By the time the bridge picked up, you were tugging at cords and tubes while simultaneously trying to push the robot arms away. You must have been seriously out of it because all of a sudden you were pushing against fleshy arms. Someone was over you, trying to push you back down. You didn't understand why he was holding you down until he helped one of your shoulders and yanked the tubes out of your throat.

Your memories of the rest of it are hazy, but the next time you woke up, it was without tubes and cords stealing your breath. Instead, you woke to a snoring man beside you. It should have freaked you out, but it was a better wake-up call than robot arms. Of course, what the man had to say after he realized you were awake freaked you out more than any robot arms ever could.

It's been weeks since then, but some nights before you drift off to sleep, you play it back in your head and imagine what would happen if you had woken up in a hospital bed. Because then you would not have to be here, trying to figure out how to open some sort of alien communication sent over from a massive alien ship not a couple of hundred feet away, with a middle school science teacher.

"It says it's xenon." You say, as you point the element detector at the dirt colored cylinder looking object. Its scientific name, the mobile optical emission spectrometer, is something you are not comfortable with not knowing how you know, so the element detector it is. The object is not quite a cylinder because the sides aren't round, so actually it's more like an irregular prism. Except that the sides don’t follow the same shape.

Dr Grace pushes off the far wall to get to where you are. He's already shaking his head as he lands next to you, reaching out to grab the lab table next to you to keep from drifting. You let go of the prism, and it floats in the space in front of you. Fighting the simmering irritation, you angle the element detector so he can see the black text that says Xe.

"Xenon is a gas." Grace blurts out, creases running deep across his face. He is still in part of his EVA suit. Or at least the undergarments that keep him cool while he is in his EVA suit, and he looks incredibly stupid, you can't take him seriously. Especially now with his lab goggles on. Somehow, even with the strap that wraps all the way around his head, they are still sitting askew on his face.

"Well, yes, I know that, but that doesn't change that it's xenon and a solid." You huff, moving to now lift your own goggles to sit on top of your head. "Now what?"

"We open it." Grace reaches out for the prism. First, he shakes it, but no sound is made. He then begins to examine the xenon’s surface, looking for any buttons or notches that could be the key to opening it. He presses down on every part of it, but he's met with silence and stillness.

"God, let me try," You sigh, shaking your head in exasperation. Grace lets it go, and you take it from him. You twist the top of the prism, but nothing happens. After a grunt of annoyance, you try again, this time with more force. Still nothing.

"I have an idea," Grace says, gently taking it from your gloved hands. He tilts his head as he grabs hold of the top of the prism just as you did. But this time he twists to the left, not the right, and with little to no force, the seal breaks. Grace smirks at the prism like he just beat the hardest level robot in an online chess game. He then, without pulling the top off of the xenon case, looks up at you.

"That was what I was going to try next." You dismiss his eyes, clearly seeking some sort of praise as you fold your arms over your chess and turn away.

"Obviously." Grace laughs softly. It makes you angrier. You know he's just trying to lighten you up, but it only serves to irritate you more. You don't like feeling stupid. Especially with people you don't know well.

Sure, you and Dr Grace have been on the ship together now for close to two months, but not much conversation has happened. You didn't know him on a personal level, and he didn't really know you on a surface level. Every day, it seemed like you were someone new. It was as if you woke up from the coma with a crumbled wall around you, broken shards and rubble littering your mind and heart. But just as fast as Grace had noticed them in the first few days awake, noticed the quiet pauses that seemed to bring you to dark places, the flinching from him just speaking, you had hidden them again. You took the piece of the crumbled wall and built as fast as you could. You built so fast that Ryland has to question why. He figured that shutting down was the only way you knew how to protect yourself.

Grace has been awake for nearly five months now. When he first found out that he wasn’t the only living organism on the ship, Grace cried. When you eventually woke up three months later, and Grace saw how old you were, he was glad you had missed the first couple of months. You didn’t have to help carry Ilyukhina and Commander Yáo or have to see every breakdown Ryland had. Instead, you woke up to a steadier Grace, one who, when he saw you were just a kid, took it upon himself to be a steady foundation for you. He saw his kids in you, someone who needs help, guidance, and support. Grace decided that when he saw you choking on tubes with nothing but terror in your eyes, he would be the support for you that he had needed when he woke up alone floating in space.

Grace now pulls the top of the prism off. He peers into the new opening before leaning in to take a whiff. His body goes rigid as his eyebrows shoot up. He moves quickly, pushing his way towards the far wall.

"Oh no!" He exclaims in a deep, almost comical voice, well, it would be if it weren't for the fact that he looks just slightly terrified. He uses all sorts of things to pull himself over to the glove box currently located near the ceiling. You follow after him just as fast, concern driving your every move.

Grace knocks over a container of test tubes, and they go flying in all sorts of directions. When he reaches for the glove box, he somehow he trips mid air and misses the handle and stumbles away from it. After an embarrassingly and horrifyingly long time, Grace gets the xenon prism in the box.

He shuts it with a loud thud and springs back like it's already killed him. You jump too, and once the chaos settles into the quiet hum of Mary, your temper grows.

"Grace! You fucking scared me!" You shriek out as Grace runs a hand over his face. You can see the tension in his jaw, pulled tight.

"Can we stop it with the cursing?" Grace calls over to you, halfheartedly.

"Alright. Sorry." You mutter out, now feeling a little guilty at the stressed look on his face, but still annoyed at him. "And can we please get gravity in here? If you had floated over here any slower, we could both be dead. Admittedly, we should have started with it in there, but still. I'd really prefer it if I didn't die two months after waking up." You shake your head and rub the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb.

"Also, aren't you a science teacher? Isn't it the first thing you teach students during labs? To never directly sniff anything? Waft not sniff?" You continue your irritated ramblings, and Grace swears this is the most he's heard you talk consecutively in a row; it somehow eases the tension in his jaw.

Grace had figured out he was a teacher before you woke up, but when he actually got to interact with you, even if you were closed off, the belief had solidified. The way you asked questions or proposed ideas was astounding because you were so young yet incredibly bright, and it had ignited this spark in him that he had seemed to forget about. Like now, he almost forgot how powerful passion is, especially in kids. You recovered memories he never thought he’d get back. Memories of his students, of a field trip his class had gone on to a science museum, and even some memories of the lesson plans of activities he never got to do with his students. But right now your fire brings him back to heated discussions in his classroom on weather of not aliens existed. Now he wishes he could tell all his students he had the answer literally sitting in front of him. He wished you could have been one of his students in those types of discussions. You would have been a hassle, but the best kind.

"I'm pretty sure toddlers know to waft and not sniff. It's like—like look, don't touch! It's essentially the first lesson every kid learns. But for some reason, you broke the simplest rule in the book!" You finish exasperated before folding your arms over your chest. The force of the movement, mixed with the zero gravity of the ship, pushed your body to spin slightly. You quickly reach out for the wall to stop it when you see Grace's hint of a smile.

"Okay, so in hindsight I shouldn't have done that, yes." Grace starts, and slight amusement begins to bubble under his defensive stance. "But look, we're both alive. And just because I implement rules doesn't mean I always follow them."

"What, so you're a hypocrite?" You bluntly question, a brow lifting quizzically.

"I meant as a teacher. As a teacher, I don't follow all the rules I implement." Grace clarifies, pushing one of the still-moving test tubes away from his face as it floats towards him.

"That's worse, you're a hypocrite to impressionable children. A hypocritical teacher." You shake your head in mock disappointment.

"Most people would just call us teachers." He attempts with a glint of amusement in his eye. A smile begins to break onto your lips, but you quickly close your eyes to compose yourself. You let out a scoff to cover your chuckle, trying to seem unaffected.

It is moments when he sees you happy that keep Grace fighting. If he could see you smile at least once a day, it would be enough to get him to the next. Even with your anger, even with your unwillingness to let him in, Ryland tries his best to give you grace. If he were in your position, stuck in space light-years away from Earth with a strange man, cursed to die before you could legally drink, and with no recollection of how you got here, he would be pretty irritable too. Even having had the chance he did to live a good portion of his life on Earth, he was still devastated at the realization that the last thing he would live to see would be one of the many white walls of this ship.

The gravity is a welcome change. During your journey here, Mary had assumed the essence of gravity because of the force of the forward motion of the ship. But ever since you stopped moving,  the gravity has also stopped. But now that you actually have both your feet on the ground, you feel somewhat calmer.

You walk back into the lab from the cockpit, Grace following after you to the glove box. You look through the glass and down at the prism that is now sitting on the floor of the box. The top has fallen to the side while the prism itself lies on its side.

"Now, let's take a peek at what’s inside you," Grace says, speaking to the inanimate object. You give him a look that he ignores.

"Be careful this time. No sniffing without thinking, take precaution."

"Wouldn't do that to you again, promise," Grace says as he puts his hands in the gloves. Now, as his quiet concentration fills the room, you see it for the first time. The slight tremor in his hand. The twitch of his eye as he carefully begins to pull something out of the xenon casing. You want to ask him whats wrong, but you know the answer. He is scared, and he has been scared for a long time. But whenever you're around, he doesn't let himself show it. If he could,

He would stop shaking, but there are some things out of his control.

Unsure what to do or say, you simply step closer and gaze through the glass over his shoulder. You don't talk about his unsteady grip on the metal tongs. You just watch as he pulls from the container a hollow sphere with very thin, long, leg-like xenon wires curving down and out of it. Your gaze lingers on the object longer than Grace gives it his attention, because before you can even speak on it, Ryland flips the prism casing around to attempt to open the other side.

"Hey—wait, that kind of looks familiar." You mutter out, eyes fixed on the sphere with the lines. You stare at it for a moment, racking your brain. You know you recognize it, the image seems to be in graves in your head, but the words are lost on you. You tap your finger against your crossed arms as you think. "I swear I—oh!" You call out as your body steps back with excitement. "I remember! It's why we're frickin' here!" You step back, trying to remember the name that goes with the memory. "The Pa—Pat—Par," You keep thinking aloud, but Grace ignores you as he screws the top off the other end of the prism.

"It starts with a 'p,' I know that. It was named after the woman who—oh yes! Petrova! It's the Petrova line!" You call, and that finally gets Grace's attention. "It's a 3d model of the Petrova line." You nod along to yourself, not getting close to the glass of the glove box again to look at it.

Grace now turns his focus back toward the object he had set down. He picks it up with the tongs and holds it closer to the glass. He nods, agreeing with your statement. "Yeah, I think you're right. That must be the star out there. Tau Ceti." You glance toward one of the thick windows of the ship and watch as the star comes into view as the ship orbits itself to keep the gravity.

"Which means that whoever is over in that ship," Grace gestures toward the window as Mary spins, and you can for a moment see the alien ship. "Must be here for the same reasons as us."

"Take out the rest of it." You encourage, hitting his arm slightly to get him to move. Grace sets down the Petrova line model and turns the xenon prism around. From the second opening, he uses the tongs to pull out another object made of the same material as everything else. This object, like the last, has long thin arm like wires sprouting out of it, but this time the hollow sphere at the bottom is much smaller, and the wires are not curved. Along with the non-curving wires, there are circular tips at the end of each strand of xenon. Just as Grace pulls the entire piece of xenon out, it springs open, making you both jump back.

"Jesus!" You exclaim, holding your chest. "Fuck," you breathe out, turning around to catch your breath. This time Grace doesn't scold your curses.

"Whoa," Grace quickly bounces back from his momentary surprise and presses both hands against the glass as he peers down at it. The object now sits like a sphere of spikes, but the spikes aren't sharp, and they are all different lengths. You look now between it and the Petrova line model.

"It has to be another 3d model." You voice quickly, moving over to the computer and the monitors sitting in the corner of the lab. You take a seat on the swivel chair as you turn on the monitor. "We need to take it out. I have to get a better look at it." You pull up a map of Tau Ceti to see if there are any similarities to the new model and the previous one.

"First, we have to make sure it won't kill us," Grace says.

"Yeah, good plan." You nod, looking over your shoulder at him. "Um, how do we do that?" You ask ask after moment.

"Good question," Grace draws out the good before stepping back from the glove box with his hands on his hips. "Maybe we just—open it a tiny bit and see if anything happens." He purses his lips in thought. "Unless, of course, you had a better idea."

"No, yeah, that—let's just do that." You agree, now swinging around on the chair to face him.

Turns out, the xenon is not toxic. After a very careless inspection, Grace and you come to conclude that the element, which should be a gas but is somehow a solid, is harmless. Even better, you found out that the xenon object was another 3d model.

"That's Tau Ceti," You point to the center of the model where all the wires are sticking out. On the monitor, you have pulled up a map of the star system the Xenon is modeling.

"Which means that this," Grace rolls the table the model is sitting on in front of the monitor and points to the end of one of the legs where a tiny 3d planet sits. But unlike all the other planets, this one has more than just a circle at the end of the wire. "Must be where they are from." He says, referring to the ship as it passes through the line of sight of the window.

"Forty Eridiani," You read aloud from the screen. "It's further from here than Earth," You observe, typing something into the computer to zoom in on where Earth is relative to Tau Ceti.

"You're a long way from home," Grace says softly under his breathe, eyes locked on the tiny planet. For once, his glasses sit straight on his face as he takes a second to grapple with this new information. You can see again now the slight tremble of his hand. He's still scared, still worried.

"We should add Earth onto the model and send it back." Your voice, breaking the quiet. "It seems like we're here for the same reasons, and we're both far from home."

Grace clears his throat as he stands from his crouching position. He shoots you a determined smile, heading for the station in the lab with building equipment. "Let's go make the first human contact with aliens."

The next message you received is housed in the same oddly shaped casing. And this time, instead of Grace having to jump off the side of the ship to get it, it arrives through the door of the airlock. You catch it this time, in your own red EVA suit, and over the coms, triumphantly brag about how easily you caught it. Grace doesn't point out the fact that it was literally shot out directly into your open hands while his wasn't, but you both know he wants to. Rather, he focuses on setting up a rope system to get around more easily in zero gravity as you come back inside.

"So, they want to connect our ships?" You question aloud, quietly watching as Grace flips the new xenon contraption in his hands. After inspection—or flipping it over—you notice the lines of xenon line up to create an image of both EVA ships. But one strip of xenon stands out starker than the rest; the strip connected to both the ships like a bridge.

"I think so," Grace breathes out, his tone dropping its normal cadence of curiosity and playfulness. You can feel the dread radiating from him and crawling up your skin.

There's a brief moment of serious contemplation that passed over you. Sure, this is a massive leap toward progress in your mission. But at the same time, you can't help but worry about what could go wrong. You can't help the endless, consuming fears that this could go deadly wrong.

"Can we stop it?"

Grace slowly halts his fiddling with the xenon. He doesn't want to scare you, but he knows that this is best. He would love not to need to face the unknown to keep you safe, but your situation doesn't allow it. The Earth's future is at stake, and if even one more alien planet is at risk, then that doubles the urgency of action. Grace wants to protect you, and he knows the best and scariest way to do that is to make contact.

"I don't think we should," Grace admits, turning slightly to look over his shoulder at you. You take another beat, trying to suppress your own doubts in order to think clearly. You know what's at stake, and you know you need to start acting like it.

"It's—we need to be careful. I mean, what if all those messages were just some scheme to get us close so they can take all our stuff and leave us for dead? I'm not saying that's what's happening, but we should be prepared." You question out, now pacing back and forth behind Grace, who is seated at a lab table near the window, deep in thought. If he wasn't so stressed, Grace might have taken the time to appreciate your unusual amount of speaking today.

"I doubt that's the case. They are here for the same reasons as we are. We need to be able to communicate better. And an hour ago you were all for alien contact, what's with the change?" Grace asks, setting down the xenon and spinning around in his chair to face you.

"I never said I was against it. All I mean is we have to be smart. Let's put aside the fact that they could be tricking us, I guarantee you our climates will be deadly to each other. I mean solid xenon, come on. " You scoff, having stopped your pacing, you lean against the wall opposite him. Grace lets out a soft laugh at your words, his posture easing up a bit.

"Okay, yes, we will be careful." He nods, a hint of a smile threatening to spread across his lips.

"Good." You respond quickly. You tap your fingers against your folded arms for a second before blurting out, "And if they try to eat us, don't expect me to hold back the I told you so."

"I wouldn't dream of taking that away from you." Grace rolls his eyes sarcastically and turns back to the lab table.

It doesn't take long after you slow the spinning ship to a stop for the other ship to start moving. You watch from the lab window, slightly terrified as a wire of xenon stretches from the edge of the larger vessel out to Mary. An elevator-like contraption shoots out from the other ship and across the shaft that the xenon arms created.

As soon as the gravity is shut off again, Grace busies himself elsewhere. He starts preparation for contact by getting his suit ready to go, making sure all of Mary's systems are functioning properly, and once that's all done, he meticulously starts cleaning up around the ship. He steers clear of the central hub where the lab is located to leave you your alone time. Instead, he focuses on the medical bay slash dormitory and the Don't go Crazy room.

While he works, you attempt to lounge about the lab. Grace had settled most of your worries, but there is still a nagging feeling in the back of your mind. You try not to think about the fact that an alien organism is mere minutes away from either befriending you or tearing you and the only other human you know limb from limb. You pull yourself over to the computer using the rope system Ryland set up and click through applications until you land on a large file named 'Music'. Whoever had created the ships database was an angel. Thousands of tracks were attached to the file. Songs as old as the 1920's all the way up until November of 2023.

Ironically, the song you currently have on loop whenever Grace lets you play music is the same song you woke up to all those two months ago. Hello by Martin Solveig & Draggonette is the only thing you know will be able to distract you as the bridge between ships is made. So you open the file eagerly and press play.

The opening drums instantly call to your attention, making you tap your fingers to the beat against your leg. Next comes the guitar, which starts a subtle movement in your upper body that directly follows the movement of your fingers. But the second the piano's electrifying cords cut through the noise, you're a goner.

It takes all but two lyrics for you to be singing along with the recording, clapping, and moving your body in accordance with the music.

Before you know it, you're somewhere else completely. You're in the back of a car, leather seats cool against the bare skin of your calf. Your hair is blowing around you like a halo as the wind whips in from the lowered windows of the car. The vibrations of the drums rattle through your tiny body as you sing along. The lyrics that come out of your mouth sound right but make close to no sense, but your heart is fully in it. You hear a laugh come from the front seat like a ray of light. It's deep and comforting, a voice of someone trustworthy and safe. His voice is one you seem to recognize deep in your bones because when he turns around from the driver's seat, his silhouette blocks the illuminating sun behind him, you feel a laugh bubble up within you, matching his. It feels like the easiest thing ever. He says something to you, but before you can place what it is, the final "Hey" echoes out from the speaker and pulls you back to reality.

Now in the silence of the lab, you float breathlessly. The feelings that wash over you are ones you can't place with any certainty. There are tears in your eyes, but you are not sure if they are of joy or utter despair. Warmth blooms in your chest as a knot forms in your stomach. It was so rapturous and safe, you could have stayed there forever. But a sinking pit is pulling at your heart. It was gone in an instant, before you could relish it, it was taken from you. Worse, you sink further, as you realize that you'll never again be able to drive in a car with the windows rolled down, blasting music you love with someone you love a seat away.

You love them. It distracts you from everything else. You loved whoever it was that was sitting in the driver's seat. It was as easy as breathing to deduce. There was no hitch of doubt that passed over you as you thought about it. Odd. So you do have someone you love back on Earth. So you aren't alone in the universe after all. You have someone you love and who loves you back on Earth, blasting music and thinking of you too.

The feeling is overwhelming. Both elating and absolutely devastating. Your heart feels bombarded with so many conflicting emotions that it blurs your vision even further. But before you can even try to begin to decipher any of it sensibly, Grace calls out to you. You quickly blink away the water from your eyes as you hear him getting closer.

Later. Later, you'll have to deal with these newfound memories and all the emotional roller coasters that came with them. For now, you have to make contact with an alien without getting eaten alive.

"Is everything ready?" You ask, using the rope to propel you toward the outside of the airlock, where Grace is holding to the wall in his red EVA suit.

"Yep. Checked all systems twice. Everything is good to go." Grace affirms, brushing his gloved hand over his suit to straighten out a nonexistent bump.

"Okay, well." You swallow the lump in your throat while you watch him smile reassuringly at you. "Guess you should head out."

"Yeah," Grace nods gravely, his voice dying in his throat. His fingers aimlessly fiddle with his EVA helmet resting in one of his hands.

You both float there for a while, with no real intention to move. You stay still as if it may change what needs to be done. The truth is, it won't, but the possibilities of losing someone else are too loud for you to let him go without some hesitance. All protests seem to die in your throat the longer you float there.

Grace is no better. He knows what he has to do, but he's also terrified and grossly under qualified. The thought of trekking out into the unknown keeps his body suspended still in the air. Yet some other part of his conscience is urging him forward. If he doesn't take the leap into the depths of space—well, really it's an enclosed tunnel which is equally as terrifying—no one else will. He has to do it for you and for Earth, so he nods firmly, the tremor now in his leg, and takes hold of the tether rope to keep him connected to Mary and a headlight to attach to his helmet.

He clumsily attaches the rope to his suit and the light to his headpiece, and you watch, twiddling your thumbs anxiously. You have to tell yourself he's only fumbling because he's scared too, not because he has no ability and might die. The images of the car come back to you now suddenly and violently. You can't help but feel a pull to stop Grace as he pulls himself into the airlock. You only have him, and if you lose him, like you lost the man in the driver's seat, you don't think you'll be able to complete the mission Earth sent you here to do if he leaves you.

"Wait—" He halts immediately, concern taking over his features like it was already simmering below the surface. "Do you have to go out there? We can't really know what's out there. Maybe we should rethink this whole thing. I don't think I'm—we're ready yet." Your throat tenses as you speak. "We can still call this off and wait it out." You swallow, trying to push the burning sensation away from your eyes.

"I can't—I don't—What happens if you die?" You can't look at him anymore. All you see are flashes of the driver's silhouette blurring with Grace's. "What—what if you get eaten or something. Then I would really be alone—"

"Hey, hey," He calls your name gently, "listen to me." His voice isn't demanding but assertively tender. There is no doubt in your mind that he used this voice on his student. "I'm just as terrified as you, and I could try to lie to you and say everything will be fine, but I know you know better." His walls seem to break down as he speaks, the previous feign of calm for your sake now crumbled at his feet.

"Grace—"

"I don't know how to do this. I really don't. I'm trying to be a strong grown-up in your life, but it's hard when our lives are the plot out of some sci-fi movie." Grace huffs out, shaking his head, still finding this whole situation hard to believe.

"I'm not asking you to be a 'strong grown up' in my life," You scoff, brows furrowing petulantly.

"Doesn't mean I won't be anyway." He looks at you with something you recognize from somewhere but can't place. It's almost a reverent kind of affection reserved for a select few. "I know our memories are hazy, but I—kid I—I feel like I know you. I feel like you meant something to me," he tries to laugh off the gravity of it, but it doesn't work.

"I'm not a kid." Your voice begins to waver.

"Yeah, you are." Grace smiles sympathetically. "Look at you," He says, and he does look at you, like you saved him, like you hung the moon and start. "You're incredible, and smart and talented, but you are still a kid. Can't be older than 20. You really shouldn't be here. But you are. And I can't—I can't fix it, I can't save you from our inevitable doom. I can't." Tears well in Grace's eyes.

"But I can tell you that I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Even if I'm scared shit-less, which I am, believe me. I'm the ultimate scared shit-less guy." You laugh faintly, and it makes him smile

"Quit cursing." You mock him with zero intent to make him stop. Ryland huffs and looks to the floor of the ship. It takes him a moment to collect himself before he continues. More tears threaten to pour as he meets your gaze.

"You are the most important thing to me, I can feel in my bones—in my—my soul. I look at you and—" He chokes on his word. His fist flies up to his mouth to muffle the sound of his sob. He takes a deep breath to steady himself. "And I think, god, I love that kid. And I would rather die in some dark, solid—somehow—xenon tunnel, by getting eaten by aliens than let you die." You let out a wet laugh.

"So please, let's do this together, calmly, so that you won't have to be alone." You nod solemnly, watching him in his red EVA suit. He smiles and reaches out to squeeze your shoulder.

Just before he turns to the air lock, you add, "Just—look, don't touch, and—"

"Waft not sniff." He interjects with a nod, you halfheartedly smile and nod too. Grace then turns to the door, puts on his helmet, and walks down the circular hall to the edge of the ship. You shut the large door behind him, making sure it's locked before nodding at him. Just before you turn to get back to get on coms, he lifts his hand and gives you a lazy grin, thumbs up.

The coms come to life with a static crackle. You quickly pull up the live feed from Grace's EVA suit. Your whole body feels on edge, your ears perk at every tiny sound, and your hand twitches against the metal trackball mouse. You're suddenly very aware of the fact that the sleeve of your EVA ventilation garment is brushing against your wrist. Trying to roll it up your arm only results in further irritation, and pulling it down is of no use due to the fact that it was built perfectly for the length of your arm. You huff out, trying to ignore it as the feed from Grace's suit loads. It's pitch black, nothing but darkness beyond the edge of the airlock.

"Any way you can light this up?" Grace's voice cuts through the coms. He sounds just slightly unsteady as you watch him grip the edge of the ship.

"Let me see." You answer back, clicking away to find a way to turn the outermost lights on. Brows furrowing, your eyes scan the screen for anything. You look to see if there are more lights, because you can run to the control room to turn them on manually, but you would prefer it if you could stay with Grace and do it through Mary's database.

"Anything?" He asks. You glance back at the live video and see Grace's hands gripping the ledge of the airlock. You grumble in frustration, and you reach out to mash down on the button that lets Grace hear you.

"Afraid not." You take a shaky inhale before letting out an audible huff of irritation. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." You watch as Grace pushes off the ledge of the ship.

"Do you—" You swallow, watching his movements with anticipatory dread. "You can come back inside—"

"No, my head lamp will do fine. Just have to stay near the edge." Grace interjects reassuringly, his tone still soft even as he stands on the very edge of uncharted territory. The push propels him toward the side of the tunnel. He collides into it with a grunt.

"Are you—"

"I'll be okay," Grace says comfortingly. With a heavy sigh, he slowly begins to haul himself along the side of the xenon tunnel.

You watch in silence for a long while as Grace trudges on. What seems like hours go by while you watch with bated breath, even though you know it can not have been more than six minutes. All you can really see is the side of the tunnel, the rope floating to the side of Grace's arm, and the seemingly endless darkness.

"Everything okay?" You ask, watching his feed. You want to hear it from him, not see it from his body cam.

"Everything is swell." His voice comes out strained. You watch as his grip on the wall fumbles slightly. Your posture straightens as you watch. His breathing gets heavier as his hand slips from the wall.

The video from the feed cuts out for just a moment, and when it flashes back on, you can no longer see the wall but just darkness. Your breath catches as it clips out again, and you hear a pained noise before the video cuts in again. Now all you can see is a close-up of the opposite xenon wall.

"What's happening?" Your trembling fingers against the coms button as you speak. He lets out a grunt in response, and the video shows him pushing back away from the wall.

"Just a slip." He replies, continuing his forward motion. It doesn't take long for him to reach the end of the tunnel. "I can see the ship." Is all he says as he approaches a solid wall of xenon.

You watch as Grace runs his gloved fingers along the wall, looking for some sort of opening. No sounds leave you as your heart pounds loudly in your ears. Part of you wishes it were you out there, stumbling over yourself. If anything happens to Grace, you know you won't be able to piece yourself together. And all the people of Earth would die because you couldn't be brave, because of your failure. Another part of you knows that if you had been the one to go out, you probably would have peed yourself already, and after that, very little would get done.

After a short search, Grace's camera shows a small window near the bottom of the tunnel. The shoulder-width, trapezoid-shaped window is only visible for a split second before his camera is pressed against the wall and your visibility goes to black.

"What do you see?" The question goes unanswered, and your heart rate picks up. "Grace? Are you okay? Whats—"

"Fine. Good, everything—everything's fine." Grace's voice trails off, and you have to assume he sees something. You hear two thumps through his intercoms before he speaks again. "It's just more darkness. If it weren't for the messages we got, I'd think the ship was abandoned."

"There has to be something there, right? Shine your light through—"

A flash of light is the first thing you see to cause alarm, followed by a bang and a yell. Grace's distinct voice ripples through the speaker of the coms like an earthquake. You watch helplessly while the feed flashes as he spins. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, and you're calling for him again the second your brain catches up with what's happening.

"Grace?" You press down on the coms. "What's out there? Are you okay?"

The camera feed stabilizes before his breathing can be heard again. Now, fuzzy, you see Grace approaching the xenon wall once more. His voice comes in breathless as he speaks into the intercoms.

"It was—there was a claw—"

"Grace? Please, tell me what's happening. Are you alright? Are you hurt?" The desperation in your voice catches his attention. His movements stop momentarily for him to respond.

"I'm fine. I just saw—something. I'm not sure, I think it's—it's a—"

Once again, the camera presses up against the xenon wall, blocking your view of what's happening. Two more thumps come in through the speaker, and you remain quiet, listening for anything to help you understand what's happening. Grace lets out a noise, close to disbelief and relief. Through the coms, his voice cracks, and his words sound somewhat terrified but also a hundred percent certain.

"It's a rock!"

You thoroughly calculated each step you took on that jet black darkness. With brow furrowed and the sides of your lips tilted downwards, you wondered: would Beldaruit get mad? He had asked you to practice your spells, yet you completely failed once more. You were no child (according to yourself), you couldn't keep showing him wobbly lines as if you were still a newborn out of Dadah Range.

You pulled some of your drawings out of your leather bag—it accompanied you everywhere since it was quite sturdy, Beldaruit truly didn't hold back at pampering you with well designed trinkets. You couldn't show those circles to him… circles? More like ovals dreaming of a perfect, yet unachievable, geoid shape.

You sighed, awkwardly shoving those inside your bag again, not minding how crumbly they would get by the unnecessary force you put on your fingers when maneuvering them. Thankfully you had sketched those with coal, no Silverwood ink should be wasted on your “art”. You stopped for a second—given your upturned face, one could believe you were now idle to ponder your inabilities, however, something else caught your eyes…

Trotting like a goat, glittering like a firefly yet fluffy like a whole kitten litter—a translucent dust bunny army marched close to your feet, leading the way to a hidden spot amidst the onyx maze of the underwater realm.

Your cyan robes were attacked by some little ones who annoyingly pulled you to follow the rest of them, only to dissolve after applying too much pressure on the silky vests.

Gulping (out of how embarrassing it was rather than fearing a troop of ephemeral fairy-like abnormalities), you followed them obediently. Perhaps you could get Beldaruit to feel a bit soft for your terrible wannabe-magic in case you showed appreciation for the bunnies—not that you didn't like such, it was merely because accepting that you truly enjoyed these cheek blushing moments was too much to bear.

Each blueish ember cast ablaze the figure of elven nymphs flying around, immediately being dissolved into deep blue light which wrought his form within the dark chamber.

“Oh, dear! Looks like Master Bel’s favorite has returned!” the older man beamed, clasping his hands together at your image.

“Is it you or another illusion…?” you asked, placing your hat upon the closest ebony furniture—you didn't even bother to set gaze upon his wrinkled pout.

“Oh, you're wrong this time. It's me! Rotting flesh and dismantled bones! Old little me!” proclaimed the sage with intertwined fingers upon his lap. After rolling his eyes, he went back to his natural countenance within seconds.

“Either way, dear…” begun the witch, only to be interrupted by a very stubborn you:

“Of course I'm your favorite apprentice, I'm the only one you have for the time being!” you said, the only one he had for now… it left a very bitter hint on your tastebuds—Beldaruit taking someone else in, someone more skilled than you, who’d rob his dotting all for themselves… either way, you opened your bag and fetched the more presentable sketches you had in store.

With a sigh, Beldaruit set his left elbow on his chair’s armrest, propping his face against the back of his knuckles—oh, this dreadful behavior only meant you were disappointed with yourself, rather than indicating you harbored bittersweet thoughts about him. Beldaruit gestured forward with his free hand, invitingly moving his fingers towards his own form, going from the index to the pinky.

“Let’s see it… well, yes… wobbly lines of an apprentice too eager to grow past their current abilities. Common, very common. Rest and try again tomorrow, then you'll see actual magic happening."

He analysed each drawing you handed with half opened eyes, tired from repeating the same thing he had constantly hovered on the tip of his tongue for all of your self hating moments.

“What? That's all?” You looked down, you didn't want to bother him… but…

“Look!” you brought up another set of paper, the one on which were carved the spells you hated the most. You hadn't planned to show those, but you wanted to prove to him how you were right about your supposed lack of talent.

“Oh, these are of a very tired and very grumpy apprentice. With some rest and love, actual magic will happen! Rest assured!” He swore lovingly.

Now, completely defeated, you moved towards his lap—throwing yourself upon his expensive robes and soft form. Thin fingers were quick to make their way to comb through your locks, seeking to calm down your very annoyed nerves by pressing fingertips gingerly on your scalp.

You pulled your head up just a little, only to see he had cast your papers upon his desk during your quick meltdown—your sloppy work looked even worse now that it was set by the side of his symmetrical lines and perfectly drawn circles.

“I try so hard…” you sniffed.

“Oh, dear, even way too much… come here, hop up…” the silver haired man didn't hold back, his hands aiming towards your shoulders, removing your face from the lap he was about to tap invitingly. How could you deny it? You curled upon him, face on the crook of his neck. Beldaruit’s robes felt like a warm cocoon made of pastel blue hues and fine needlework.

“I feel like taking a break…” was what you bravely whispered, twirling a thin lock of his hair around your fingers.

“Then do so… nothing good comes out of a tired mind, sweetie. Here…” the sage nicely gifted you a kiss upon your brows, which served as a sign for you to get even closer… if possible.

“I thought you'd be asleep when I came back. You're still on your chair…!”

“Darling, I spend almost half of my day on that damned bed. I want to stay away from that a little!” Before you could apologize, afraid you had been insensitive regarding his condition, he quickly cupped your face, a quick peck being given to your nosetip.

“Also, if I was to be asleep by now, just like ‘most people my age’—since you might think I'm old like a phoenix—I wouldn't be able to catch sight of my beautiful…” said him, between kisses “Gorgeous…” now it was getting embarrassingly good, ”Sweet, perfect and favorite apprentice…!”

”But-”

“No, no! No more ‘I’m your only apprentice’ talk! Now you must rest or else you'll go crazy over those tiny little bent curves.”

“It’s just that… I owe you so much… you took me in even though you couldn't…”

“Oh dear…” Beldaruit began, arms securing your waist and hair falling around you like a pristine curtain. “I did it because I could never bear to see such a nice thing like you having your memories erased, could I? Especially not when the brimmed ones had been cruel to you… so I just snatched you under my robes!” the older man said, tilting cutely.

“Truly, you're an outsider, but that's our little secret! The sage of teachings and his outsider apprentice! Worth a book, if you asked me!” He nodded as if he had came up the greatest plot, but you could only think about how the Knight Moralis would never allow such a novel.

“Either way, dearir…” continued the older witch, “You might think that you're in great debt, but you bring me much joy that, if there's someone here who should be rewarded, rest assured for it's surely you…” and, as your fingers uncurled from his hair, Beldaruit set his lips upon your cheek, giggling to himself afterwards.

“Will you ever get another student…?”

“Well, I haven't been prone to handle more than one at once. Qifrey, riliphin… I never sought for a second student while dealing with each of them. Unless… you want a little friend…?”

The way he implied that, as if you were little as well and in search of another person just as little was quite nice to hear, despite how much you supposedly hated being called a kid. If you tried to describe the harshness of being a child, you would receive a scornful chuckle or an insult to your sensitivity, because it is coherent for adults to abuse you with daily looks of disapproval, pressure in every physical touch received and the denial of the simplest desires—when cruelty is done through such casual ways, it becomes quite complicated, because it is impossible to share it without sounding pathetic. But now, being treated like a kid didn't mean being belittled, if anything, it was the total opposite.

“No, I don't want it. I want you all for myself…”

With that declaration, you fully hid your face on Beldaruit’s neck, praying he wouldn't notice the blushing of your skin by the rising temperature around your cheeks. Instead of teasing, he simply surrounded your form with a gentle squeeze.

“So all yours I shall be…”

“Is it alright if I sleep with you tonight, Bel…?”

“Bel? How over sweetly informal! You are truly still lacking some ‘witch society manners’, not as if I’d correct it out of you now! Let's see… hmm…” he pondered, hand cupped around his own chin. “I don't know which lullaby I should sing for you today… let's pick one…”

˗ˏˋ ★ ― QIFREY ‼

The whole day was gloomy and dark. It was pouring cats and dogs outside and the ugly cold from was seeping into the atelier. Of course, Master Qifrey made sure to light up the fireplace, the fire battling the distraught atmosphere that the weather brought on.

While no-one was outright upset in the atelier, everyone felt a bit down with the ongoing dark sky and heavy rain. Especially one apprentice, who was currently sitting at the living room table.

Qifrey, like a right master should, tried to bring some comfort to all of the inhabitants of the house. He made sure to brew a calming chamomile tea and bake some sweet cookies. Doing rounds around the atelier, carrying trays of cups of tea and some plates with the cookies to all the apprentices.

One plate and a cup even made its way to Olruggio's room, who, despite feeling grumpy about being interrupted, welcomed such a sweet treat. One last delivery remained, which was you.

Your dear master knew you were studying in the living room, right next to the cozy, warmth-bringing fire that soared in the hearth. You were a very studious apprentice, eager to learn new spells. And such hard work should be rewarded!

He decided that he would sit with you and share the cookies and tea. Sure, perhaps there was an ulterior motive of getting you to take a break, but who cares? As long as your tummy is filled with sweets and your mouth is smiling, all is good.

"There you are, darling! Still studying, hm?" his soothing, and quite enthusiastic, voice comes from behind you. He comes around you and crouches down.

He hummed as he pushed some of your papers to the side – naturally, he did it gently, to make sure he didn't ruin your work. Qifrey lays the tray onto the table and looks up at you.

He finally had the chance to take a good look at you. Your slightly furrowed eyebrows, your scrunched up nose and the everlasting bites you administered to your fingers. A small frown of his own came onto his face.

"Darling, won't you even look at me? You're studying way too hard," he offered a small smile, but a hint of worry could be heard in his voice. His face softened further once you did look up at him, all confused. "Hi, there. I brought some snacks. I thought we could share them together," he reaches out and pinches your cheek.

Finally broken out of your daze, you look at the plate of cookies. Oh. Sweets!

"Um, sure, I just... I need to...," you mumble as you look back onto your paper. One spell was giving you a hard time. Or perhaps, more like your hand was. Why was it so wobbly? You unconsciously bring your hand back to your mouth, biting away at your nails once again.

"Um- But... I...," you slowly look down at your hand. You did bite it quite a lot. Your nails were quite ruined and uneven. A little "oh" escapes your lips at the sight, but a cookie is quickly pushed into your hand.

"Ah, ah! Don't do that, sweetie," Qifrey immediately reaches out and gently cups your hand with his, blocking it from your mouth, "Biting yourself like that... you will hurt yourself. I can't let you do that, now can I?"

Seeing your furrowed brows he softly chuckles, more out of worry than anything else. "You're biting your hand while you're anxious. It's quite common, don't you worry. But I cannot just let you damage your pretty hands like this!" he tried to ease the atmosphere a bit, just to make sure you don't feel scrutinized.

"Here, eat up! Your Master knows just how to help you," Qifrey ruffles your hair and gets up, leaving you to munch on your cookie. And you do, eating the sweet treat. In the end, you did like them. You weren't so focused on studying anymore.

After a couple of minutes, as you're sipping on the tea, Master Qifrey comes back carrying a small trinket. You promptly look up at him as he sits down next to you.

"Look here, darling. It's a chewing toy. You can bite this instead of your fingers, okay? It will save your hand and your teeth as well," he proudly shows you the chewing toy. It was mostly flat, cut out into the shape of a bunny.

Qifrey looks at your face as you observe the toy, taking it up into your hand carefully, turning it around to inspect it.

"Go on, try it out," he encourages you. With a glance up at him, you bring the toy to your mouth and try biting into it. It wasn't bad at all. Soft enough to partially sink your teeth into it, but hard enough not to bite through it.

You hum before you completely get lost in the sensation. Biting and chewing on the toy.

Qifrey smiles at the sight. You were so cute. Quite like a teething puppy. With a kiss to your head, he leaves you to your ministrations, happily sitting next to you, enjoying his tea while you enjoy the new toy.

˗ˏˋ ★ ― OLRUGGIO ‼

It was no use. Olruggio was trying, he really was, but the sheer inability, of the man before him, to listen and actually understand what Olruggio was telling him, was driving Olruggio mad. He loved to help people, but sometimes, the Unknowing weren't quite understanding of the fact that Olruggio really couldn't bring them the stars from the sky.

"Listen, I understand what you want, sir. But I'm not able to just... magic such a thing out for you. I would be very happy to take on a commission for you, but I'm afraid that I just cannot do it today," Olruggio tried once more, hoping for a miracle.

He could feel your small hands gripping his cloak. Understandably so. The tall man in front of Olruggio was quite loud and a bit aggressive.

This wasn't what Olruggio planned. He wanted to take his apprentice out to the nearby villages for a field trip, to show you more hands on magic. And to also show his life out of the commissions he gets paid for. But quite a rich man – some noble of some sort, was very adamant about getting Olruggio to create an illusion of the night sky on the ceiling of his child, that he could just freely turn on and off for the night.

"Well, you're a witch, are you not? I know you're able to do it, so why don't you just go and do it?" the tall man basically growls at Olruggio, getting more and more agitated.

Olruggio sighs. He didn't want to subject you to more of the aggressive demeanour of the man. While he would like to prepare you for inappropriate and very pushy customers, so you were able to stand up for yourself, he knew this wasn't the right situation.

Your master glanced at you. He could feel your grip on his robes tightening, he could see the slight shiver to your stance and the way you were chewing at your coat.

"Right. Sir, I'm not able to do it today. It's too late. I must go take care of other things," Olruggio puts on a very unconvincing smile, "Here, take the card. You can write to me for a commission!"

He doesn't let the man repeat his demand. Olruggio simply picks you up and leaves. Very quickly. As he rushes through the streets, trying to find a quiet spot, he keeps on glancing at you. You were still chewing on your robes. What was that all about?

Soon enough, he finds a back alley with a bench. With a sigh of relief, he sits you down on it.

"Unbelievable! These mo-... These men are quite insane!" Olruggio groans as he rubs his eyes, crouching down in front of you.

You were still very anxious. That man was so mean. And as a result, you kept on chewing at the neckline of your cloak, trying to self-soothe. Olruggio looks up at you.

"Oi! Stop that. You're gonna ruin your cloak," his hand tugs the fabric out of your mouth. He watches, quite worried, as you seem to get even more nervous.

"...Uh... you alright, sweetheart? What's wrong?" Olly lets go of your cloak, and rather puts his hand onto your cheek, cupping it gently. "...you didn't like the guy, did ya?" he softly hums, his face turning bit solemn.

The shake of your head and your teary eyes stirs something in Olruggio's chest. You were his apprentice, he loved you dearly. And seeing you so distraught because of a man made him angry, upset and worried all at once.

"Com'ere, sweetheart," his voice drops down into a comforting murmur as he picks you back up, letting you bury in his neck, "Shh, it's quite alright. Master Olruggio won't let anything happen to ya."

Olruggio's body was naturally quite warm, and you could feel that even though his clothes. It was so comforting to hide yourself in him. But even so, you still felt scared and you couldn't stop yourself from chewing on his cloak.

Your master noticed that almost instantly, making him frown. What was up with you?

But as he keeps on watching you, he slowly starts to realise that this wasn't really a one off thing nor a new one. He did see you chew on various objects many times. It's probably a coping mechanism or something like that.

Olruggio wasn't sure what to make of it. He hasn't been around children much, other than Qifrey's apprentices and none of them had such a habit. But he was your master and he would take care of you. Always.

"Hey, dear, you keep on doing... that... bitin' stuff, I mean. Could you tell me why?" he asks, trying to see if he could just simply get the answer out of you.

"I... I don't know...," you mumble, letting go of his cloak and pushing your face back into his chest. It was dumb, wasn't it? He already told you to stop.

"Must be an unconscious thing then," Olruggio mumbles to himself, frowning a bit in thought, "Well... suppose it calms ya down, no? You like to bite stuff? Get like a... need to do it, sweetheart?"

A calm, quiet atmosphere of care settles around you two, easing your worries and making you nod.

"Ah... I see. How about this? Master Olly will make ya somethin'. Somethin'... soft, hm? So you can bite something else than your cloak. Otherwise you'll be out of cloaks. All of them will be bitten through!" he plants a tiny peck to your nose before he begins walking, "Don't worry now, sweetheart. It'll take ya home now. No use standing here, waiting for that pest to come find us."

˗ˏˋ ★ ― BELDARUIT !!

Beldaruit was an old man now, having to deal with many apprentices and many people over so many years But still, even after years of work, he could never stop being fond of seeing his apprentices focused on their work.

It was something so sweet and so adorable to him. How their brows creased a bit, how their eyes narrowed, how they seemed to be absolutely unaware of their surroundings. Really, the sight reminded him of a little kitten trying to focus hard on learning how to hunt.

Beldaruit was smiling ear to ear as he observed you. He meant to do a few other things, but seeing you curled up above your paper, trying to figure out a new spell was something dear to him.

As you racked your brain, attempting to create a very new spell, you brought the ending tip of your pen into your mouth. You wanted to impress Beldaruit, or at least gift him something he'd like. But you weren't quite sure what it could be. An illusion of a dragon? Or perhaps flowers made from pristine ice? Or...

Beldaruit's face softens into a look of exasperated love. He has seen you chew on your pen a lot. You do it... quite often.

He takes up his notebook and his pen, quickly scribbling a spell. A delicate bird of light comes to life, flying around the room. After a few turns, the bird flies towards you, straight into your nose, bursting into soft and tickling particles.

You jerk your head back at the unexpected, but not hurtful, assault by the bird. Your head turns to your master after a beat.

"There you are, sweetling," Beldaruit practically coos at you when he sees the light flush of your cheeks, "My, my. How cute you are... come closer, would you?"

"No way!" you immediately protest and plant your palms against your cheeks, "You're just gonna pinch me again!"

"Ah! Such hardships I face! My dearest little student doesn't even want my affections now! What will I do?" he dramatically sighs, but even in his flare, he couldn't stop the small chuckle bubbling out of him.

"Don't you worry, I won't pinch you if you do not wish me to, dearie. But even so, won't you come to me?" he beckons you closer with a soft smile.

Your hands slide off your cheeks, but with an indignant little huff you get up and walk to his horned chair. Beldaruit reached out to pet your head gently. What? He might not pinch you, but he couldn't just ignore such a cute baby like you!

"Oh, my sweetling, have you been starving?" your master jokes as he turns the pen in his hand once more before looking at you. You blushed even more. He often teased you about this habit.

His other hand comes to yours, tenderly taking your pen out of it and rotating it around. The bite marks were prominent on the wooden handle.

"Hm... are your teeth okay? Tell me, have you chipped any of them?" Beldaruit's soft hands cupped your cheeks. While he liked to joke around, there was a very real wordy in his heart for your health.

Your embarrassment slowly left your body as you see his kind expression. When he sees the shake of your head, a sigh full of concern leaves him. His lips set a kiss to your forehead.

"Your master has something better than wood for you!" he offers you a smile as he pulls out a wrapped candy for you. You don't wait even a second before you take the candy. Very happy to eat it.

Beldaruit couldn't help himself, he plants another kiss to your head before inspecting your pen one last time.

"My darling, Master Bel will have to take your pen for a while. I'll get the handle changed out," he says, his voice filled with fondness, "I think we can get you some teething guard on it too."

"I don't need a teething guard! I'm not a baby!" you instantly perk up, glaring at the old man. Such a view made Beldaruit chuckle. Weren't you just the cutest thing ever?

"Ah, I suppose no, not when we're talking about your age... but, sweetling, did you know? You're my baby!" he coos at you, his finger caressing your cheek, "And, my darling apprentice, you mustn't be so embarrassed. I didn't mean to offend you. I just thought that... well, since I, surely, won't get you to stop biting your pen, I might as well make sure it doesn't hurt you."

Another indignant huff leaves your mouth, which in turn makes Beldaruit smile widen.

"Ah. I get it. I won't force you to have it. I just thought it might ease the strain on your teeth, dearie," his hand finds your head once again, ruffling your hair, "Don't be mad at me, my sweet apprentice, I truly didn't mean to offend you."

"Well, I... I don't know! I'm not... I don't think about doing it," you mumble, tugging on your robes.

"That's fine. Truly, it is. I do not mean to chastise you, sweetling. Your biting habit is nothing to be embarrassed about. Forgive this old man, he teases you way too much," Beldaruit's face turns apologetic, "I won't do such a thing anymore. Come, show me your spells and I'll give you more candy. Would you like that?"

With a little puff to your cheeks, you give him a nod. Taking his hand you gently pull him towards your desk, and he gladly follows, giving your hand a comforting squeeze.

You gather your papers and hand it to him. A natural smile comes to Beldaruit's lips. Checking the work of his students was another activity he loved. Watching them grow and better themselves made his heart clench with pride.

As you master happily looked through your work, your eyes fall onto your pen on his chair.

"Oh... probably just some soft material wrapped around the tip of your pen, that's all. Or perhaps just making the whole tip from a softer material. We can go to the pen maker together, how about that, sweetling?" his voice was a soothing sound to your ears.

"...Master Bel...? And... the- the teething guard, how would it look?" you whisper, your hands finding your robes again. Your head lowers, hiding from Beldaruit's eyes.

Your sheepish nod earns you a firm kiss to your forehead.

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