milliways_bar | (no subject)

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When Autor steps through the door today, his clothes remain the same: white pants, oversized gray sweater, and glasses. What changes are the ears. Not his, necessarily--those still remain human--but he sprouts fuzzy, gray, and pointed kitten ears on top of his head with a soft, "Oh!" The tail is also new, and telegraphs his body language as the tip curves upward in agitation.

"Really?" he calls up to the ceiling. "Come on!"

Experimentally, he brushes his fingers against one of his fuzzy new appendages--and tears his hand away, blushing. They point in different directions, moving independently of one another to show his ambivalence with the costume.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It looked like something harvested the planet. All life, even plants were dead. Stock said the planet use have many different forms of life. We managed to find 20 adult survivors and 6 young but we lost one of the adults. We tried but-"

One of the white drones comes over to rub against Jay's hand.

Autor's tail wilts. "Jay," he says gently, his ears flat, like airplane wings. "At least you tried. Nineteen out of twenty-five is pretty good, as far as survival rates go. I'm sure Stock and the other drones are grateful for what you were able to accomplish."

"Yeah, but you know me." Jay drops his eyes, giving the little drone a scratch. "The babies are... difficult. Physically, they're fine but they've lived their whole lives with no-one but themselves. Teaching them social skills is taking the whole hive."

"Yeah, I do know you," Autor says, gently tapping Jay's knuckles. His ears swivel about, and his tail curves downwards, the tip twitching. "What are the babies like? Are they smaller than the others? Do they actually grow like non-robots?"

Jay smiles and turns his hand over, palm open. "Like little black and red golf balls of rage to start off with. Bonnie introduced them to music which is helping but they're still pretty wild."

"From what Stock has been able to explain, they grow more like crabs. When they get to a certain stage, they shed their shells and replace them with bigger ones. Because these ones have been alone, they haven't grown or matured without a hive to support them."

Autor traces his fingers over Jay's open palm. The catboy's ears perk forward and slightly to the side, relaxed. "I see," he says, shaking his head. "So they really require the help of the hive around them. Who knew drones would be such social creatures? Hopefully the babies will be able to mature now that they've got a hive here. Are you keeping them sequestered away in your workshop?"

Jay hums softly, resisting the urge to stroke those cute little ears. Instead he brushed a fingertip over the underside of Autor's wrist.

"They seem to have a very complicated social structure - matriarchal, passed on family groups of threes. It's going to take a lot of adjusting for them. Stock's family unit where the only ones to make it through intact. The rest are... having to form new groups. Not easily, that's for sure."

"We've had to keep the babies in a tank for now. Until we can get them use to being around people, it's safest. They don't bite but they have a nasty little electric shock defence."

Autor draws a breath through his nose at the contact. "Will the babies be able to form new groups within themselves? Or will they be better off with an adult or two?" he says, his tail tip twitching. "A shock defense? Goodness. That's pretty awful."

"The babies seem to be two full groups so they'll be okay there but from what I understand, they're usually raised by their progenitors - a group of twenty seven adults who donate parts to create new life. And there aren't twenty seven adults left." Which means without major changed to their culture, they won't breed again.

"Oh," Autor says breathily, resting a hand on his heart. His ears flatten against his head, and his tail points down. "That's terrible. Is there any chance of more survivors on their home world, or is that pretty much exhausted?"

"Stock implied there may be other hives so there may be other survivors but their hive was destroyed. The building collapsed a few minutes after we got out. Once enough of the survivors are healed, we'll talk about mounting another expedition."

"Good luck, Jay," Autor says, lacing his fingers together. His ears perk up, assuming a straight-up orientation. "I hope you find more adults. In the meantime you've got a lot of work ahead of you. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Thanks." Jay smiles and brings Autor's hand to his lips in absent kiss. "Some company and distraction might be helpful? I've been working pretty much non-stop since we found them week before last."

"How are things with you?"

Autor's cheeks tinge slightly pink, and he beams warmly. "I don't blame you; it's an important job," he says, his ears pointing straight up, as does his tail. "I've been all right. I've recovered my memories which I lost when my Story ended. The whole town lost them in one large chunk, but I was able to recover them due to my rememberizer, a blue compact which allows me to watch memories it has recorded."

"Oh." Jay ducks his head. "Including the bit of memory where I was a completely dick to you in the library?"

Autor laughs, shaking his head. His ears perk up, resting forward. "No, actually! I didn't watch bar conversations, just memories from home. You were a dick to me in the library? Why?"

"Oh dear. Um-" Jay shakes his head. "You were love-struck, heart broken and well, moping about pretty badly. I... pushed you pretty hard to try to get you out of your rut."

"Maybe I'll have to go back and try and find that memory. It sounds fun, now that I'm detached from the situation," Autor says, with a cheeky smile. "Did it work? Were you able to push me out of my rut?"

"I really wasn't very nice about it, I'm sorry but it did get a reaction." Jay mutters embarrassedly. "Kinda. I very nearly pushed you hard enough to hit me."

That sobers Autor up. His ears lower. "Really? That's impressive," he says, raising his brows. "I didn't hit you, did I, Jay? I mean, I'm sorry if I did, and... I must not have been in my right mind."

"I'm the one who should apologises, Autor. I knew what I was doing. If you'd taken a swing at me, it would have been no less than I deserved. And I can take a punch."

"Still," Autor says, his ears flat against his head and his gaze concerned. "I wouldn't want to hit you, Jay. No one deserves to be punched. That must have been an awful situation all around. I'm glad we moved past it, even though I don't remember it."

"Autor," Jay touches his chin softly. "We're okay. You're a very dear friend and I care about you a lot."

Autor leans into the touch, his tail lowered. "I care about you, too," he says softly. "I know you did what you did because you were worried about me."

Jay smiles and leans across to stroke Autor's cheek. And then the ears. Because he just has to see how they feel.