#thenightmakers

Coasting among the stars in some posh civilian transport vessel, it’s hard for a lowly dome-ship custodian to think otherwise. Whetlen had grown all too used to bumming rides from rackateers and vagrants. Why, when his parents had surprised him with a pair of tickets on the Starclipper, he’d scarcely believed his good fortune.

But as the small blue blip of his planet comes to focus, it’s all too real for the andalite to handle. He was home, and for the first time, Jinx is there with him.

He glances down to his companion. They’d secured a cabin just big enough for the both of them, the length of Whetlen’s form sprawled just-so his tail is able to rest comfortably. In the crampt dark, she’d be able to feel an the electric thrill coursing through the air. When an andalite was excited, passerbys tended to share in the experience ... whether they wanted to or not.

< What are you most excited for, starshine? Oh -- just wait until you see the birds we have on Andal! You like birds, right? I’m sure you’ll get a real kick out of the kafits. What with their beautiful plumage and all ... Why, you should acquire one! I’m sure you’d take to one, right as rain! ‘Course ... they do have six wings ... may, ah ... may have to come back to that one, actually. >

The form of the executioner lingers close, both axes in hand as he scouts the horizon with a pair of keen eyes. Draven’s wicked weapons still saw work long after he’d departed the arena, as cutpurses cut their teeth even on Ionian roads.

Looking skyward, Soraka’s lips move in silent reverence for the heavens above. The desire to erase her mortality no longer persisted, but she didn’t cease her endless apologies to her kin. To be forgiven was all she yearned for. A sign, a voice, something, anything. Surely Aurelion couldn’t have been so cruel ...

RUNNING 5TMSKISD.EXE PLEASE STAND BY.

( kiss one )

The first kiss isn’t soft. In fact, Jinx hardly wants to give it at all. It comes on the heels of Whetlen’s insistent thought-speak, poking and prodding at the poor orin that he absolutely must know what a kiss was. He’s traipsing on into the third paragraph of his rationalization before Jinx tugs the andalite down and smashes her lips into his cheek. Hard.

Whetlen spends the next hour elaborating on how violent a display of affection it is.

—

( kiss two )

Whetlen thinks he’s the smartest creature in the galaxy. Surely if he could smile, there’d be a cheshire grin stretched across his bushy cheeks. But instead, his eyes beam, tail held proudly. It takes everything he has not to practically pronk with joy.

He was going to do it; honest to stars, initiate a kiss ! He’d read every book, every manual, and had even eavesdropped on the occasional conversation to feed his silly studies. Jinx is poring over a market stall when a pair of wiry arms loop under her own, attempting to pull the orin up to chest level before a fist collides with his jaw.

The two leave the station that night, Whetlen’s jaw sore, Jinx’s pride suffering much of the same.

—

( kiss three )

She’s tired of his constant prodding. Their camaraderie is something she’s come to enjoy, but even an andalite as unassuming Whetlen could come on too strongly sometimes.

So she takes that night to put his questions to rest, extrapolating upon the intricacies of affection and human contact. Whetlen’s questions are endless, but by the end of it, he leans forwards and smushes his face up against hers in a vain attempt to mimic what she’d spent the last hour teaching him through verbal explanation alone.

Jinx can’t help but laugh at the feeling of his cold nose against her cheek. A palm reaches up to smear the moisture from her skin. ❝ Close enough, ya big furball. ❞

—

( kiss four )

They’d become good at this. It wasn’t the first time the pair had found themselves in hot water, of course, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The two had become actors of sorts, parroting the roles they’d managed to pick out amongst the swath of intergalactic inhabitants they saw daily.

Now they find themselves in the throes of some meeting. A group dedicated to interspecies relations and the details of making their relationships work … in more ways than one. None of them showed any particular interest in the subject, of course, but oh, were the patrons around them loaded. If there was anything they’d learned, it was that wealthy and eccentric aliens often had deep pockets.

So they lock arms, chest to chest with Whetlen down on his knees as they try to really sell the deal. Jinx presses a kiss to the only place she can reach – his shoulder, and the crowd around them coos, understanding the limitations that came with such wildly differing species dynamics.

They joke later over a dinner of tram station food and snacks, pockets full and consciences clear.

—

( kiss five )

Adventuring wasn’t always fun and games. That had never been so achingly apparent as it was currently. Whetlen had long stooped down, belly brushing the floor and legs politely folded under himself. Jinx lays against him, sprawled but inert. It wasn’t often for them to sleep this close, but crampt ship quarters bred the need to cluster together against one another.

Jinx was quiet. Unusually so. He knew why, of course. She swore up, down, and sideways, she’d seen another orin. An orin she swore she recognized, at that. But they’d slipped away, into the throng of people that populated the last station the duo had found themselves at. The disappointment practically radiated off of her, and part of Whetlen wilted at the look on her face.

After a moment of hesitance, his hand outstretches, taking Jinx’s into his own. He intertwines his multiple fingers with her claws to the best of his ability, quiet. The air is dead-quiet, devoid of thought-speak though a warm feeling of comfort washes over the area under the andalite’s will. There’s a shifting as his tail comes to encircle them, the butt of his palm bumping up against Jinx’s own. She relaxes under him, too proud to say anything though Whetlen’s eyes remain trained on her.

I made a new icon for the rp blog!!

At the core’s words Doug immediately stopped in his tracks. Production floor? There were a million reasons why going towards a surface manufacturing floor could be a bad idea. What if there were other Aperture constructs around? What about the cameras? He still wasn’t entirely convinced She was cut off, and if She happened to see them running around one of Her production lines? What then?

You want to get out, don’t you? This might be the only way.

Doug had no idea who this blue fellow was, perhaps another core? Either way it didn’t matter. He was more preoccupied with the prospect of stairs. He had a med kit and his leg wrapped up now but it didn’t mean he could do the impossible. Stairs could be an issue, but elevators couldn’t be trusted, not in this place.

“Up it is, then,” he said, getting up and putting the water bottles and med kit into the cube. “Mana, which way to the closest stairs?”

Doug quickly followed after her, eager to see what the core had found. The room was dark, the only visible light coming in from the core’s optic. It was an eerie light but enough to make out the general shape of the room. He carefully wandered inside, wary of where he was putting his feet in case the floor decided to give out beneath him.

A quick scan of the room he found a small medical kit and two bottles of water. He wordlessly set to work, beginning to wrap up his leg with the gauze he found in the med kit and taking large gulps of water from the first bottle.

Don’t drink it all at once.