#oldarva

(Kae’s brain is a fuzz-mess today, have some cute Eldie happenings)

Lumen’s hands were long and graceful, and Oldarva found herself staring at them more often than she liked to admit. Or, rather, more often than she could admit without her face going pink and her tongue tying itself in a bow. How could she even think of confessing her interest? He was so graceful, so much wiser than her. Nyota trusted him with everything, that was all the proof Oldarva needed to know the Novakid was well out of her league. 

But still, a girl could dream, couldn’t she? So she found little excuses to spend time in the medbay, or helping him tidy the bar. Somehow, being around Lumen didn’t make Oldarva feel bulky and clumsy. Arjun, Sonny, and Hadley were so little and delicate beside her, it was hard not to feel like a lumbering creature beside them, but Lumen’s grace rubbed off. Made her feel even warmer inside, and she’d find excuses to look down or away or anywhere but straight at him, in hopes that he couldn’t see how hard she was trying not to blush. 

And that’s how she spotted his one weakness: Lumen couldn’t sew. His sleeves and vest had little tears and holes from long decades of love, wear, and wash, and he’d done his best to fix them, but it never seemed to hold for long. 

“Just can’t darn worth a darn,” as he put it, with a little chuckle that sent a flush right across her nose. “I try my best, but the needle don’t want to do what I want, y’see. It’s a right shame.”

“Do you need some help?” Oldarva offered. She took a close look at the sleeve he held out for her inspection. It wasn’t a bad tear, just a funny shape. “I think I could put some patches on the elbows too, reinforce it a bit. If you’re okay with the repairs showing, there are even a few nice ways you can mend it and show off the new patch instead of hide it.” 

“Ain’t a bad idea.” He glowed a bit brighter at the thought. “Actually, I sure like it. No sense makin’ this old thing look new when it’s older than half the crew. Might as well let it shine, eh? But it ain’t fair to make ya do all the work, here. How ‘bout ya show me? So I ain’t takin’ all yer time up with my poor clothes.” 

(I’ll go back and fill in the rest as I get time, but have an Eldie~)

Oldarva missed closeness, she realized. She had grown up in a family of five, very close and very physical in their affection. It had been rough and lonely when she was assigned to a new home, when the only time she could touch another living being was when she helped fit or hem their clothes. Even then, it was mostly on accident. Things were a little easier in Nyota’s crew, with everyone so close together. But she could hardly just start touching people without permission. So she endured and kept it inside, until Arjun patted her arm one day when she brought him fresh coffee and it sent a thrill through her that made all her fur stand on end. 

“What? You zone out?” he asked, giving her a weird look that was half-worried and a little sorry. 

“No, no.” Oldarva tried to rub her fur back down. “Oh my, I look like a ball of orange wool.” 

“Need a hand?” 

“Thank you, that’s kind.” She tried not to shiver at the warmth in his hands. It felt so good. It had been so long since she felt so good. 

Arjun was giving her that weird look still, more worried now. “Might want to see Lumen. Or get Nyota to turn the heat up.” 

“It’s alright, I’m not cold. Um. Humor me?” Oldarva tried to gesture what she wanted, barely knowing what she was asking. She didn’t have the right words, the right feelings. Her mind was too fuzzy to find anything. 

“Sure?” Arjun set his mug down. His arms were wiry with age but strong as any apex. Oldarva felt her whole self tense up- then go calm. The tremble faded. It took something else with it too, a tension she had grown so used to that she forgot it was there. Arjun held her for a moment, then patted her back and let go. 

“Better?” He didn’t look worried now. 

“Much. Thank you so much.” 

Arjun nodded and scooped his mug up again. “You come back if you need another one.” 

Her fur fluffed up again. “Oh, I can’t interrupt you-” 

He smacked her hand, not hard. “I said you can. Worse than Nyota, dangit…” 

Oldarva hurried back to her work, happy but incredibly flustered. She couldn’t possibly get under foot like that. But he’d given permission? And it felt so good to have someone hug her. She almost pricked her fingers twice as she resumed her mending. It was all just too confusing. 

Maybe Arjun guessed her thoughts, and put word around. Or luck just found a way. Oldarva got a warning of “Floran incoming!” and had just enough time to stick the needle back in her pincushion before two arms caught her and a stiff face buried itself in her short mane. 

“Oh my goodness, Namina! I appreciate the warning, but- Er, my feet left the floor. This is a little awkward.” 

He chuckled and let go just long enough for her to get balance again. “Floran givess cuddles. Hold ssstill.” 

She knew from experience that Namina mostly did as he pleased. And, well, this was rather pleasing to her too. So Oldarva slid her arms around him (partially to discourage him from picking her up again) and enjoyed the moment. Namina was much stiffer than Arjun, but not as unyielding as she expected. He was mostly just strong, strong as oak and warm as a hillside in the sun. It wasn’t long before duty called and he had to go help fix something in the common room, but he left Oldarva with a lightened heart and fur that smelled like grass. 

Nyota remarked on that, when she caught up with Oldarva after dinner. “Did you go planetside? There’s a nice greenness around you today.” 

“Oh? No, I was busy with mending. Hadley and Sonny found a briar patch on their last scouting trip.” Oldarva ran her fingers through her short hair, half-wondering if it would stir up the green smell more. 

Nyota smiled wryly. “They have terrible luck. Better than the bog last week. Here, sit with me. Your fur is tangled.” 

“Mind your head,” Eldie told her guests as they stepped through the hatch. She offered a hand to steady them, just in case. Marcy could hear something snoring nearby as she accepted the assistance.

Arjun snorted and set his coffee down on the work table. More accurately, on one of the dozen books covering the table. “You’re the only one who needs to duck.”

“Oh.” Eldie looked back and down as if only just realizing the height difference. Even Mihre only came up to her shoulder. “I suppose you are right on that. Did you raid the library, Arjun? This is quite the collection. I hope you didn’t try moving them all by yourself.”

“Looking out for my old bones, huh?” It sounded like a familiar topic. “Grabbed some muscle this time. Don’t worry about it.”

Anticipating the question, he reached behind the largest book stack and thumped something. The little raspy snores broke off with a sharp snort and Namina sat up, glowering blearily.

“Why ssmack?”

“Look sharp, our guests are here.”

“Floran is alwayss sharp,” Namina grumbled, but he smiled at the sight of Eldie, and got immediately headlocked by Mihre.

The older floran chuckled wickedly as Namina squirmed. “Ssso, used to hugging floran? Sprout owes me some stories, yes? Whoa!”

Marcy laughed as Namina stood up, Mihre dangling from his neck like a very surprised scarf. “Nyota pulled that trick with me once. Rule one of headlocking: don’t try it if they are bigger than you.”

“Shall we let them catch up, then?” Eldie asked. The offer was perfectly polite, but her green eyes glittered with surprising mischief. “Do try not to damage the furniture.”

Mihre scrambled up onto Namina’s shoulders in an impressive display of agility as he tried to shake them off. “Ah, so you have knowledge of floran greetings.”

“Much knowledge.” Arjun dove forward to rescue his coffee. “Hey, mind the books!”

“I did see you shoot him with a paint ball,” Eldie remarked. She gently shepherded Marcy toward the ladder and away from the wrestling florans, adding helpfully, “The sparring room is upstairs. You are welcome to join us later.”

Mihre managed a thumbs-up before having to reassert their grip as Namina accepted that offer for them.

Marcy laughed at the little incident as Eldie guided her down the ladder. “Does that happen often around here?”

“Well, usually it is Namina and Hadley, or sometimes Nyota,” Eldie admitted. “We don’t often have guests, you see. We do not usually stay in one place long enough for that.”

Marcy went quiet, thinking. “Is it because of the Miniknog?”

Eldie paused, considering that. “Yes and no. Not directly,” she said at last, though Marcy could tell that the question sat heavily on her. “We have managed to stay off their radar and out of space that they control. But Nyota does not want to stay still, in case we attract their attention too well and bring danger to the people we visit.”

“Fairly correct,” Nyota said. She was sitting up in bed, a comfortable shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and smiled in welcome as Marcy entered the medbay. “We have also found ourselves quite busy lately. Hello, Marcy. Oh—” Her smile warmed and softened as Marcy abandoned ceremony to wrap her arms around her friend. “I suppose I should open with ‘it’s not as bad as it looks’.”

“I know. You’re tough.” Marcy’s voice was muffled again, and the so-familiar, so-missed feeling of Nyota’s strong arms around her brought hot tears to her eyes. “Just humor me. I needed this.”

Nyota pulled her close. “I did too.” She rubbed Marcy’s back a little, then reached up to bounce a curl that had escaped Marcy’s hair-tie despite Mihre’s best efforts. “You dressed up for me. That’s new.”

“A girl’s got to have fun sometimes, right?” Marcy quipped to cover her vague embarrassment. Mihre was probably right after all, she shouldn’t have bothered looking fancy for this. She felt silly now.

Nyota let go and sat back to get a better look at her. “You look nice.”

Marcy felt a lot less silly now. Or a lot more, it was hard to tell. She swatted Nyota’s arm lightly. “Why are you like this? You’re teasing me.”

Nyota laughed. “Perhaps. But I do mean it. Have fun, and don’t forget to stretch your legs every now and then.”

“If only that would make me taller,” Marcy said, earning another laugh. One of their oldest shared jokes, and it felt so perfect now, just sitting and trading words with her old friend. But it wasn’t quite perfect; Nyota’s hands were cold. Marcy pulled a chair over and sat beside her, pressing the apex’s huge hand between her small hands in an effort to warm it.

Nyota hummed softly and curled her fingers.

Marcy paused. “Am I being rough?”

(From @oc-growth-and-development​ OC-tober 2020! I’m proud of this one.) 

When she first heard the news, Oldarva’s hands went still, and stayed still for a very long time. Vanished. She knew what that meant. But she could not keep them still forever, or she might disappear too. So she picked up her craft again, and worked it like it was all she had left. The thought wasn’t too wrong. She had heard once that grief was the shape left by love when it’s pulled from the heart. It wasn’t quite right--she still deeply, sadly loved her Uriasz. But grief was the echo of love unfulfilled. 

It was her craft that first drew them together. Oldarva had finished all her required orders for the day, and had only scraps left from her projects. So she began to patch them together, out of boredom that became curiosity. If she put this color with this pattern, like so… The result made her laugh a little, a funny patchwork scarf that no one in their right mind would buy. It was so clearly not standard issue. But it was cute, she thought. 

And he agreed. She still remembered the sight of those lovely long fingers reaching, pausing, that hoarse purring voice asking, “Oh, is it alright?” 

And she didn’t know better, so she said yes. He looked so very cute in that patchwork scarf. He told her nothing went with his coloring, with deep grey skin and pale gold fur and laughing-sad blue eyes. But that scarf did. He told her later, when he gave her the comb, that’s why he picked it up. It was patchwork, just like him. 

Maybe that’s why she started crafting again at last. Wanting to bring that patchwork echo into her life, or sew the scraps of herself back together. 

Then her brother came back, broken, and broke her further. The awful painful guilt, why did Isaak come home and Uriasz did not? And was it really Isaak who came back? 

She felt the pity of the stares on her, and the anger in her hands as they worked the needle over and over, jabbing the fabric in and out with a fury she had never known she possessed. 

When Oldarva pricked her finger and felt nothing, just watched the blood well up and fall, she knew she had to run. 

It wouldn’t be long before someone else noticed the fire in her craft. She was lucky that the Miniknog discouraged such open thought… Her neighbors had no idea what to look for, what they were looking at. 

It was how she knew to approach that stranger--she saw the matching fire in the woman’s hands, though she hid it so well in her eyes. And that fire gave her courage, even face-down in the carpet and knowing she could die at a moment’s word, to beg Nyota to take her along too. 

The fire calmed after Oldarva found her new home in the crew. It found new outlets, new arts. She was delighted to learn that Nyota could tat, even more so when Nyota offered to make trim for Oldarva’s new shawl. She had never crafted with someone else before. Uriasz had beautiful graceful hands, but the grace did not translate to thread and cloth, only to shell and wood; there hadn’t been a way for them to combine what they did. 

And then she spotted an echo of her favorite embroidery motifs in the engraving on Nyota’s armor. 

“Namina added it,” Nyota told her, when Oldarva asked. “He said he was inspired.” 

How strange. Oldarva began adding his favorite motifs to her embroidery as well. It was quite inspiring indeed. She hadn’t realized how well the arcs and diamonds melded into her favorite stylized flowers. 

She did end up with more scraps that way, an inevitable side effect of trying new things. Oldarva didn’t mind. Scraps weren’t a bad thing anymore. She caught herself humming a familiar old song as she patched them together, matching colors and patterns like she’d done such a long time ago. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt you let go like this,” Marcy said quietly. Her efforts were working, slowly. Nyota’s fingers seemed reluctant to hold the warmth.

Nyota hummed again and leaned back, though she was careful not to pull her hand out of Marcy’s grasp. “It was very hard to, before.” She was quiet for a long moment, watching Marcy’s hands. “I think I owe you a story, don’t I? Though Lumen will not like me straining my throat.”

“I’ll make you some tea,” Eldie offered. Marcy jumped; she’d forgotten Eldie was there. Eldie gave her an apologetic little smile before looking back at Nyota. “He can’t complain too much if you have a hot drink to soothe it, right?”

“Fair enough.” Nyota caught her eye with a small but wicked smile. “Though I think it’s more that you can melt him, hm? Oh, alright. I’ll leave off teasing for now. Ginger and mint, if you can find it.”

Eldie ducked out of the room, blushing as red as her hair.

Marcy swatted Nyota again.

“You’re merciless, you know that? At least it’s not just me this time.”

Nyota caught her eye with a telling wink.

*

Marcy spent the next hour listening, spellbound, as Nyota recounted all she remembered of their trip through the Vault. She had forgotten her friend was such a good storyteller. Mihre joined them around halfway through; Marcy was too focused to notice exactly when, though she did notice that they looked quite ruffled and also pleased with themself. Eldie brought Nyota’s tea a little bit before Mihre arrived, then made another trip to get drinks for the guests. Marcy accepted the sweet-smelling tea with a murmur of thanks, then a hum of shock as she tasted it.

“Earl Grey and lavender with a little milk. Exactly how I like it,” she said, awed. “How did you guess?”

Eldie smiled and blushed a little. “Nyota told me before you arrived. And Namina said that Mihre likes boneboo smoothies, correct?”

“Correct,” Mihre said happily, accepting the glass. They were polite enough not to loudly slurp it while Nyota was talking, despite clearly wanting to. Marcy didn’t usually see them so happy about food, unless her dad had made honey-glazed ribs. When Nyota got to the Vault Warden, though, they stopped drinking entirely and set the glass down to listen.

“An ancient AI, still functioning after all this time,” Marcy said softly as Nyota paused for breath and a drink. “Esther’s notes describe just how enduring the Builders’ work is, but this is beyond anything I can imagine.”

“Functioning is up for debate,” Nyota told her. She folded her hands around the mug and stared at the remaining drink, deep in thought. “It had malfunctioned, in my opinion. It was made to preserve life, after all.”

“True.” Marcy swirled the dregs of her own tea. “I guess the Builders never thought of that. Or they expected to be there to fine-tune it if needed, and, well, weren’t.”

Nyota nodded slowly, considering this. “Perhaps. And then there’s the matter of what the Occasus wanted with it, or if they even knew it was there. We still don’t know why they were in the area. Our prisoner—”

“Prisoner?” Marcy’s head shot up. Mihre had to reach over to steady her hands and keep her from splashing herself. “You didn’t say anything about that. And wait--Occasus? You ran into Occasus out there?”

Nyota shook her head and chuckled softly at herself. “I didn’t? Damn. My mind will be as grey as my hair at this rate. Yes.” She had to stop and take a sip of tea, raising a hand to her throat with an unhappy hum as her voice cracked.

Marcy put a hand on her arm. “Hey, go easy on yourself. I know you’re not good at that, but…”

That earned her a small, weary, affectionate smile. “I’m fine. Just healing.”Nyota took another sip and laced her fingers around the warm mug again. “Hadley encountered an Occasus guard drone outside the Vault when we were securing a route in. Actual Occasus came to investigate its destruction, with the worst timing… Right as we reached the Warden. It was almost too convenient, but we didn’t see any evidence that someone else had been in that deep. We were not sure what to think. We still aren’t.”

“No kidding… I wouldn’t be, either,” Marcy said slowly, trying to ponder her way through to an answer. It didn’t take long for her to sigh and shake her head. “It’s no good. I can’t think of a reason.”

Mihre made a quiet throaty sound. “She said they have a prisoner. You asked?”

((I might take a short break after this chapter. I’m pretty exhausted))

“They’re almost here, Captain.”

Nyota woke from her light doze at the sound of Lumen’s voice. There was something warm pressing on her shoulder. She opened her eyes. Brunette mane, familiar flash of red. She smiled. “Wake up, Lana. Oldarva and Namina have arrived.”

Lana’s face stiffened in a near-snarl for a moment, then relaxed as she recognized the voice and opened her eyes. “You have a comfortable shoulder,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep. Her tone was almost reproachful.

Nyota smiled. “Good morning to you too.”

“Mm. Is it morning?” Lana grimaced and stifled a yawn. “No coffee.”

That earned a laugh. “A woman after my own heart.”

Lana glanced at her sideways and flicked her nose. “I thought we established that.” She sat up and rolled her shoulders in a restrained stretch. “Time to behave. And comb your mane. Can’t interrogate a prisoner that faints from shock.”

“Bah…” Nyota held still as Lana smoothed down the worst of the wild tufts, watching her crew wake up from their own naps. She could feel the quiet tension, and felt it fade as the crew watched her. So Lana’s antics weren’t just for play. Clever Lana.

A finger ran along her ear and Nyota suppressed a shiver, shooting Lana a most reproachful look. Lana met her stare, and Nyota caught just the slightest glint of defiance and humor in her eyes. Alright, so some of them were just play after all.

The far door slid open. Lana sat back to watch, hand dropping subtly to the long knife she kept at her hip. Just in case.

As soon as Nyota saw Oldarva and Namina, she knew the knife wasn’t needed. Oldarva carried the small, shivering person, barely protected from the bitter cold by cheap purple fabric. They leaned deeper into the ginger apex as they drew near.

Oldarva caught Nyota’s eye with an apologetic smile. “No frostbite yet, Captain, but even the environmental protection pack did not help much out there. We might need a few minutes to warm up.”

Nyota nodded and gestured at the empty space near the small heater they had set up. “Take as long as you need.”

Oldarva sat down, but didn’t let go of her prisoner just yet. This close, Nyota could clearly see the shivering and felt something in her twist with a mix of scorn and pity. Lumen might have called it sympathy. Left alone with nothing but cheap rags in this bitter-cold place. She knew all too well what that was like.

Namina squatted beside them and leaned on Oldarva with a quiet unhappy hiss.

Nyota gave him a sympathetic smile. “Too cold for you too, Namina?”

The floran bared his teeth. “Nassty cold,” he agreed, and waved at Lumen. “Lightss-friend, come warm Floran?”

Sonny chimed like a string of bells as Lumen flushed bright and muttered something about shameless ferns. But he got up anyway and let Namina sling an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t ya get used to this,” he warned, with absolutely no bite to the threat.

Oldarva laughed and leaned against them both, careful not to drop the Occasus prisoner.

As the person looked up at the sound of so many voices, Nyota made eye contact; they didn’t flinch, perhaps too cold to do so. “Are you able to answer a few questions?”

Their voice was very quiet. “I have a choice?”

That earned a small, strange twist to her smile. “I will always give you a choice,” Nyota told them. “This may be different from what the Occasus has told you.”

They stared at her in undisguised wonder. “I think,” they said slowly, “that many things are different from what the Occasus told me.”

The smile warmed slightly. “Then there is hope for you yet. I am Captain Nyota Saimiri. What is your name?”

Was that a blush? They broke eye contact and looked at Oldarva’s elbow. “I don’t like my name…”

Nyota accepted this. “Then what should I call you?”

The Occasus looked up at Oldarva as if trying to find support. “Gizzie is okay. A lot of people call me Gizzie.”

“Gizzie, then.” Nyota leaned forward and folded her hands in her lap. “I am not yet sure what to do with you, Gizzie. We do not normally take prisoners. We rarely have the opportunity. Most Occasus, in my experience, do not stick around to be captured.”

Gizzie looked around at the crew: four apex, a floran, a pair of novakid, a glitch, and two humans, all sitting comfortably, some eating breakfast together, all watching them. “I think,” they said slowly, “that I am not very much like most Occasus right now. …ma’am.”

((From @oc-growth-and-development ‘s OC-tober 2020 collection again~ This is a fun prompt list!))

Maybe being around all these younger folks had changed him, Lumen thought, watching Sonny dance to Arrow’s fiddle again. He couldn’t remember if he had ever been able to laugh and twirl like that. Must be nice, being able to shrug off all those cares. 

At just a century and ten, he wasn’t old, not for a novakid. But he still felt ancient from living around humans so long. Here one season, gone the next. Even back on Mars, he’d watched little kids grow into grandparents. Hard forgetting that. 

“It’s a lively tune.” 

Lumen hummed and glanced up. Eldie smiled sweetly down at him (here was another thing he wasn’t used to, being the short one). She turned her head to watch Sonny again. 

“It must be nice, being able to do that.” 

He hummed again, curious feeling bubbling up just behind his brand. “I was just thinkin’ somethin’ like that. She sure looks happy.” 

Eldie watched them quietly for a few moments. Lumen felt like she was studying. “Do you think… I could do that?” 

“Eh?” He hadn’t wanted to realize that maybe she couldn’t. “Sure. Yer young too, ain’t ya? Though I guess age don’t mean much when ya got heavy cares…” He knew enough of her life by now, of the pretty little comb she kept safe in her room and who gave it to her, to know she was an old soul too. Aged by sorrow. 

Eldie looked down at him with such a curious expression that Lumen realized immediately that he’d guessed wrong. “Cares? Oh- no, I mean… I want to dance.” She blushed as red as her soft hair. “I can dance, for an apex, but our dancing… well, it’s not very light. Not like hers. She looks so pretty, twirling around like that.” She made a quiet noise, like a huff but more embarrassed, and looked away. 

That odd bubbling tickled away at him. She was a mayfly too. He’d be here long after she was gone. But still, maybe this old oak could wish for summer now and then. Lumen touched her arm, held out his hand. “I ain’t much good myself, but I can dance a reel or two. C’mon, I’ll teach ya.”

She looked back, startled, and smiled (the bubbling whirred like sparks) and took his hand. “If you don’t mind.”