Chapter Text
An outcry like splintering wood was upon the girl, like the strain of a tree against a sudden whirlwind, with her wailing branches clung to one another as woeful leaves scatter into the gale. The percussive crash, accompanied by heavy, rapid, crescendoing footsteps, gripped the woman where she stood, hand still clasped around the hammer she held aloft. She was twisted in place by the command, turning from the tree she was facing to cower before the wrath of the forest, its emissary sliding to a halt before her.
And lo, the face of her judgment. A humanoid face, with two eyes, wide and glassy, a swirling pale blue pool which was marred by an eruption of red across the center, like fresh blood splitting water. A wide maw, lined rank and file with sharpened thorns, was half-open in an incredulous slack, and the flared slits which sat in place of a nose shared their desperate disposition. The sides of its face sported small fins as substitute for ears, each pierced asymmetrically with myriad thorns and hooks. Above its creased brow sprouted neatly coiled locks of dark red vines woven with brambles, a majority of which were pulled back and tied into a bun, with a few thick strands laid forward to frame its face before coming to rest just below the shoulder.
As the girl shriveled in terror, she quickly took in the rest of its form. The affini was no more than seven feet tall, quite meager by their standards, but wider than most, full hips and thick arms appearing muscular and embellished generously with fat to cut an impressive figure. Its skin was comprised of a rich, deep blue moss, softly textured with impressions of scales, with slits imitating gills cut into the sides of its neck. Layered curtains of black leaves were arranged into a sleeveless blouse which lay over its sizable bust and rounded belly, with arms left uncovered to display the lovingly painted stretch marks and serrated fins decorating them. Down its legs, black vines were tightly woven into a pair of baggy jeans, tucked in at the bottom to ankle-high boots comprised of a glossier, leather-like material and embroidered with dark gleaming thorns. Sprouting between its shoulder blades was an intimidating fin, and emerging from its lower back, a long tail reached to scrape the ground with a widened tip.
In a tone torn between a battle cry and a reprimand, the frightening shark-like creature laid forth its accusation. “So YOU’RE the one behind this, ain’t ya’?” it demanded, gesturing with a pointed finger at the device in the girl’s hand.
She followed its aim to her stapler, its anvil folded outwards to hang parallel to its hammer, the head of it grasped between her fingers, its fangs poised to strike.
“O-oh, I’m sorry, that’s my stapler, I-I was, um.” She looked down to the now-crinkled sheet of paper gripped in her other hand. “I w-was just hanging up this poster I-I made,” she said, stiffly holding up the evidence as she stammered out her defense. “I take this, this path pretty often and I-I thought it might be a good place I could, I might put my invitations.”
The affini stepped back a few paces, quickly flushing the red from its gaze as it hastily reevaluated the situation. “Oh clod, I didn’t mean to – I’m so sorry, lemme just – how ‘bout you just take a breath real quick, okay?”
The girl nodded shakily, attempting to reassert control over her lungs with mixed success. A memory from her last therapy session nudged her, suggesting that she try to ground herself in her environment. She paused, smelling the budding brush of the aspen forest around her. She listened to the nearby rivers, tumbling over themselves through rocky channels and into a central lake where sophonts of every shape and size splashed and played. She looked across the well-tread path she usually took through this park, which lead from her home out into the arts districts where she spent most of her time.
She tasted the inside of her cheek trapped between clenched teeth, a prisoner swiftly pardoned on account of its unjust sentence. She felt the leisurely breeze sliding against her skin, reminding herself that there was no whirlwind here, that there were no whirlwinds in the Compact. She was getting better at it, but it was hard learning how not to brace for storms around every corner.
The sound of the plant-shark awkwardly shifting in place brought the girl back to the present, looking to meet the mottled blue and sea-green eyes of the sophont ahead of her. “I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, doll, honest. I just get pretty protective, and I saw you holdin’ that thing, and I just didn’t want any more of ‘em gettin’ hurt.”
The terran’s head tilted a few degrees to the side. “More of them… hurt?” She glanced behind her, to the site she had nearly stapled. “Any more trees?”
The affini furrowed its brow, its gaze infused with a yellowish hue. “Yes, any more trees. The trees I’ve been findin’ your ammunition buried in all over my forest,” it said sternly, extending an open palm to feature an exhibit of used staples within, the tips of each carefully dulled and bent inwards as to ensure they could never again be put towards their wicked means.
“It’s… they’re not ammunition, they’re just staples,” the girl started to explain.
“I don’t care what you call them, they’re not the kind of thing sophonts of any kind should be firing,” the affini’s lecture continued. “And they certainly should not be left inside any of my forest’s residents,” the shark resolutely declared.
“I’m terribly sorry, I really didn’t realize I was hurting your, um, your residents,” the girl said apologetically, deciding it was a poor time to explore a line of questioning on the nature of arboreal citizenship.
The plant’s stance relaxed, vines loosening and eyes returning to a cool light blue. “It’s alright, doll. I figured someone was doin’ it on purpose, but I see you didn’t mean harm by it. I’m sorry for giving you such a scare.” Its eyes widened green with realization, “Dirt, I’m ‘spposed to ask, do you need any Class E’s?”
“O-oh, no it’s quite alright, I’m already on plenty,” she said with a half-smile, hoping to mitigate the affini’s faux pas. “Usually if I take any more I start having trouble walking, and I have a lot more fliers to hang up today.” A shallow frown formed as she recalled her interrupted efforts. “What… did you do with my other posters...?” she asked, noting that the primary method by which the stationary had been stationed was in the palm of the plant before her.
“Well, after tending to the wounded best I could,” the affini huffed, “I put ‘em back up properly with this,” and it held aloft a vine emerging from its forearm that dripped with an amber sap, hints of pink suffusing into its vision as it continued. “It’s a sturdy adhesive that’s completely safe to use on any organic matter, and it dissolves after a few days without a trace. ‘Course, you could also remove it with the counter-agent without much trouble, and that’s because unlike how most adhesives bond directly to a material and create strain on either surface, this agent spatially aligns itself with the component molecules to–”
“Sorry,” the girl interjected in the gentlest tone she could muster, “I would love to hear more about it sometime, but, I do have a lot of preparations to make and not nearly enough time, so I need to get going.”
The shark shook itself from its monologue to reenter their conversation, eyes draining back to their usual hue. “No need to apologize, doll, I didn’t mean to ramble. ‘spose I won’t keep you any longer,” the plant said with a smile that was about 30% more unnerving than the girl assumed it was intended to be (since of course, when analyzing interactions with the affini, an expected level of intentional unsettlement must be accounted for).
The girl gave a friendly wave before turning away, bending down to retrieve the stack of yet-to-be-posted posters she had set down prior. It was always really delightful talking with someone new, although afterwards she tended to worry about if she came across well. Getting all shaken up like she did really seemed to concern that nice affini, she really needed to work on her–
“Although.”
The girl yelped, collapsing forward to her knees and scattering the stack of papers across the ground, pivoting to see the affini now standing directly over her. Somehow, it had impossibly poised itself behind her in the few seconds she had looked away. Her eyes set off on a pilgrimage up its body, embarking from its boots to scale the sheer escarpment of its legs, climb the staggering peaks and valleys of its chest, and at last crest at its face to find an over-the-top maniacal grin awaiting her.
It continued. “I do need to confiscate that weapon of yours before you hurt yourself. Can’t have a sophont running around with somethin’ like that,” its voice drenched in campy villainy. “I mean, it’s practically grounds for domestication.” It flashed a winning smile and a playful glint in its eyes, each of them garnished with a spike of red pigmentation across their centers.
Out of instinct, the girl began to protest. “Hey, w-well, again, it’s not a weapon, and we both know I wasn’t–”
Faster than she could flinch, a vine sprung from the alien’s midsection and swiped the stapler from her hand, retreating with its catch just as quickly.
“And if I do recall, you yourself confessed to harming the dear inhabitants of my forest, isn’t that right?” the shark asked rhetorically, a finger tapping at its chin in mock pensiveness.
The terran knew that arguing against this teasing entrapment would get nowhere, but she was compelled to attempt it out of principle. “Well, but that was only because you–”
Another tendril, this time taking the crumpled page from her hand, smaller tentacles sprouting from the first and tending to the paper’s every crease.
“I simply can’t let a dangerous thing like you walk around unsupervised, it just wouldn’t sit right.” The legion of vines at last descended to snatch the girl by her wrists and waist, suspending her in the air mere inches from the monster’s face. The red streak in its eyes had spread to dominate the entirety of its vision, a voracious gaze locked with hers.
This was not the first time this girl had felt something like this. She liked to consider herself fairly sexually experienced, having been with many partners and in many scenes, planning most of them herself. She had been bound, embarrassed, cuffed, chained, used, displayed, and generally made helpless plenty of times before, to the point it had become a nearly banal exercise.
But she had never felt this. Everything before was play, an act, an agreement, a fiction with defined rules and limits. And although she figured this affini was just spinning a dramatic narrative as an excuse to toy with her, and although she could assume that it wasn’t about to drag her off to some lair and have its way with her, she didn’t know. There was no way she could know.
And that feeling, that uncertainty, that true powerlessness, that impossible ideal which all attempts to achieve are defectively manifested by poor communication or a poorer partner – In this moment, she felt the dream with none of the dread. She was glimpsing the unattainable, straddled on a coin’s edge.
The affini was reveling in this moment, stretching each second longer, longer still, so long it was actually getting a bit too long, until the girl realized that the “predator” holding her actually wasn’t sure what came next with the proceedings. It’s cheesy domineering expression was starting to falter as they both felt the tension slipping, so the girl graciously decided she might as well try and play along.
“Um, well, I suppose if I can’t have my ‘weapon,’ and you can’t leave me unsupervised, and I still have all these posters to put up, then, uh…” She paused, creating space for her fellow actor to deliver on her setup.
The affini stared back with white eyes and an expectant expression.
“…then, I suppose, I’ll need an escort?”
A moment passed, then a spark of yellow recognition shot across its complexion. “Right, you’ll need an escort! Since you’re, ya’ know, so dangerous ‘n all.”
“Right. An escort who could help me put up all these fliers.”
“Right.”
“…”
“…well, ‘guess I’ll find someone to–”
“No, it’s you, you’re supposed to say you’ll be my escort!” the girl exclaimed, bursting into laughter.
“Oh! Well, why didn’t you say so?”
The two clearly had some surplus of hysterics in their systems, because despite their respective anatomies enacting every emergency release contingency at their disposal, their giggling took well beyond the regulation time to conclude, their bodies wracked with catastrophic fits of delight.
After no insignificant pause, the shark strained itself to adopt a serious expression and resume their ruse. “Yes, since you’re just too dangerous, I’ll be the one escorting you from here on out.”
“From here on out?” the girl sarcastically prodded. “And what, may I ask, counts as ‘out?’”
“Well, ‘til you’re back home.”
“That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”
It was then revealed that their respective hysterics reserves had been implicated in an embezzling scheme, and there was, in fact, quite a large stash of illicit hysterics in need of immediate discharge.
The affini at last set down the smaller sophont, placing into her arms a neatly arranged pile of posters sans one. That lone sheet, scars of old crinkles still visible on its war torn body, was mercifully adhered flush upon the tree beside the two, its arduous odyssey to that destination now complete.
Satisfied, the girl returned to her path through the park, its groundskeeper now in tow. She strode ahead towards her next targets, the plant matching her trot with an effortless stroll.
After advancing a few conversation-less paces, the woman thought to proffer a subject. “So… am I to know the name of my captor?”
A sharp cough emitted from beside her, like a clumsily placed footfall into brittle twigs. “Uh, right. Name’s Ginsu Cretoxyrhina. First Bloom, it or its pronouns work.”
“Mera Mellows,” she replied cheerily. “Independent. She and her for me.”
“Lovely makin’ your acquaintance, Miss Mellows.”
“And, uh, same to you, Mage* Cretoxyrhina.”
“Oh, I’m not picky on formalities, s'you can just stick with Ginsu. So tell, Miss Mellows,” it said, setting its hands into its pants in the approximate area pockets would be. “What’re all these invitations about?”
Mera glanced over with a raised eyebrow. “You – haven’t you read it? I mean, you’ve been taking them down all morning…”
“And puttin’ em back up!” Ginsu interjected, blurry green ribbons like kelp surfacing beneath its vision. “I mean, I skimmed it o’course, but I was rather busy tryin’ to sort out the sophont responsible for ‘em, so. Didn’t have time to digest it proper.”
“Of course,” the girl said, suppressing a smirk. “Well, I’ll tell you all about it,” and she handed Ginsu a flier with a massive, unmissable title:
Speed Dating!
For Pet-Seeking Plants and Interested Independents
When a Meet-Cute Just Won’t Cut It!
Mera took a deep breath, commencing her rehearsed explanation as the plant read.
“So, every floret I’ve met has told me about some kind of chance meeting with their owner-to-be, how they were dramatically swept of their feet, how it took them by surprise and changed their lives forever, so on and so forth. And that’s great for them, really, but, what if you don’t want to wait around for happenstance? What if coincidence isn’t the best matchmaker? I mean, I know there are domestication centers that work to pair sophonts together, but those can feel intimidating to some Independents because there’s such a degree of finality to it. You don’t even know who your match could be and you’ve already signed away your life to them.”
“So I figured, what if there was a space, or an event, where independents could explore their options with a bit more agency? Something that wasn’t so daunting, wasn’t so… all-or-nothing. And I hadn’t heard of anything like it, but I assume that if I feel this way then there’s got to be some others who do as well. So… I decided to make it.”
“And I know the title is a little impolite with referring to affini as just ‘plants,’ but the alliteration was too good to pass up, and I figured no one would mind too much and the subject matter would contextualize it well enough, but what do you think?” She turned to Ginsu in hopes of gauging its reaction, but was blinded by the pink spotlights staring back at her.
“Darlin’. I think it’s an excellent idea.”
Enthusiastic fliers and the sounds of enthralled discussion dotted the circumference of the lake, the two winding their way between trails and topics in equal measure as the artificial sunlight above began to wane. They walked atop one of the many habitation rings which lined the space-faring vessel they called home, structured to evoke a great star serpent. Truthfully, when Mera first saw it pierce the eternal clouds above her old colony, reuniting noble sunlight with desolate stone in a passionate embrace after their millions of years cruelly separated, she was certain she had witnessed the return of a god. And in the short months since, the multitude of miracles it had granted her didn’t do much to dispel the notion.
The new arrival listened eagerly while the tenured resident spun its story. “…and my friends figured it’d be good for me to be ‘round sophonts once in a while, so I became caretaker for this particular locale. Not that it needs much caretakin’,” Ginsu shrugged. “Most of it’s automated to take care of itself. I’m more of a, uh, ‘livelihood-guardian,’ or somethin’ of that nature.”
“So… like, a lifeguard? I think that’s what they were called on Terra,” Mera posited.
“Pretty sure they called me a ‘livelihood guardian.’ Maybe it’s a regional thing,” the affini hypothesized. “Anywho, I did some lookin’ into terran iconography around oceans, safety, awareness, the like, and there were some fascinatin’ terran sea-critters I felt mighty inspired by, most of which are more ancient than you terrans are! It seemed a good place to start, and I figured out the rest of my ‘sthetic from there.”
“Ok, wait,” Mera interrupted, processing the implications as she spoke. “So, you wanted to be a lifeguard, and you styled yourself after a shark?! Most terrans are pretty afraid of sharks, to my knowledge.”
“Afraid?! Of sharks?!?!” Ginsu scoffed at this. “Well, I can’t imagine why. They’re mighty docile creatures on the whole, and so isolated they rarely interact with you land-dwellin’ types.”
Mera considered this. “They have a reputation as these sort of… relentless hunters. There are tons of really old stories about them stalking around beaches, a fin sticking out of the water as they chase terrans.”
Ginsu’s eyes swirled a displeased and disconcerted yellow. “…Huh. That… contextualizes a couple things. Though, I still don’t really get it,” the shark said, scowling. “You terrans love felines, canines, ‘-ines’ of most varieties now that I think about it, and don’t seem to be caught up on their predatory tendencies…” the plant-shark hybrid shook its head. “I just don’t get xenos.”
“Besides,” Ginsu’s rant continued, “even if I was tryin’ to hunt anythin’ down, I wouldn’t be wavin’ my arm at ‘em the whole way over, now would I?!”
Mera chuckled. “I think most fears don’t make sense on some level.” Her face broke out in a grin. “Maybe you could, like, stick a big flag on the end of it? Have it say something like, ‘Hello! I’m Not Hunting You!’”
Ginsu shot back a playful glare. “No, that’d just get in the way when I actually am huntin’ someone.”
The two giggled at their witty exchange, slowing at a fork in the path ahead to set another poster at the strategically valuable intersection. “Say, Mellows,” the shark asked, “d’ya mind if I take a handful of these invitations with me? I have some friends who might be interested in attendin’ this sort of a… unique huntin’ ground.” Mara swore that the affini nearly defied its own anatomy to salivate over the words.
Mera paused, arousal colliding with anxiety, the brackish mix sinking into her stomach. “Well… I think that would be fine, as long as they won’t be disruptive or anything. I’m not just trying to host a florgy, I’ve been to plenty of those and I want something a bit less… less like just another hookup, if that makes any sense.”
Ginsu seemed to recognize the girl’s discomfort. “Oh, of course, darlin’, I’ll make sure everyone’s on their best behavior. I can see you care an awful lot about this.” Mera looked up to see a genuine concern in the affini’s eyes, tones of sapphire and pastel pink swirling compassionately, and felt the unease filtering out from her gut.
“However, I can’t promise that they won’t be a mite eager,” the affini confessed. “I mean, you put up signs recruitin’ ‘pet-seekin’ plants,’ so don’t be too surprised if they show up.”
“Of course,” Mera responded, the enormity of what she had invited upon herself hitting her like a face-full of steam from a pot left to brew unattended, its lid pulled aside for assembled mists of intoxicating aromas to ambush their unsuspecting chef. She could taste self-consciousness, heightened expectation, uncertainty, all the usual ingredients, but with hints of the excitement and novelty she was hoping for with this dish. “I mean, I’m planning around it, after all.”
A second realization struck the girl amidst the aftershocks of the first, thoughts of cooking-adjacent extended metaphors stirring (if you’ll allow me the pun) dormant responsibilities from their slumber. “Oh fuck, what time is it right now?” she asked, hands already feeling for her tablet to provide her the answer.
“A quarter ‘til six, by terran time,” Ginsu provided promptly.
“Shit, okay, I’ve got to get going,” Mera hurriedly elaborated. “I have a lot more stops I need to make and some reservations to set, I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.” Her feet, taking the same memo her hands did, were already making the preparations the girl needed to set off.
“Wait,” the shark said, trying to delay her departure. “D’ya happen to have a handle online, doll?”
But Mera was already halfway out of sight. “It’s on the poster!” she shouted behind herself.
“The poster you didn’t give me extras of yet?” Ginsu called out in return.
The girl screeched to a halt, turning to rectify her mistake, then screeched again in surprise, the affini now standing directly behind her with a bemused look across its face. Mera grumbled mildly at the shark’s scare, handing the four remaining fliers off to a waiting tendril and spinning to shove off once more, but her legs were unresponsive to their captain. She peered down, suspecting some manner of mutiny, and sighted ink-dark tentacles anchoring her in place.
Mera looked up in shock for some manner of explanation from the sea monster, and was stunned by an expression that, for once, she couldn’t quite place. The affini’s eyes were a canvas of colors, gold and fuchsia acrylics blended over a brushed cerulean base. Even with the artist right before her, the myriad distinct interpretations of the piece washed over and through her, and only a quiet, melancholic wonder remained.
And astonishingly, the artwork spoke. “Just try and pace yourself, darlin’.”
The girl was a statue, heat spreading across her cheeks, mind grasping for some obscured reading or a suitable response, until belatedly realizing that her bonds had already receded from around her legs. “O-of course!” she managed to convey, feet shifting in search of some sort of purchase against the ground. “Um, thank you very, uh, very much for everything and, and, and, bye!” Mera ejected herself from the encounter, walking at a near-jog back along the path and not daring to glance behind her again.
Already, the further she stepped away, the faster that the multitudinous needs of her maligned agenda were fading into focus, their clamoring silenced for but a moment, and a timeline was being calculated and a route was being re-calibrated and a gait was being accelerated – but some part of her was still standing in that forest, basking in an affection she could not understand.