The way he phrased it, as if I'd be indulging him by poking around and leaning into my nosy nature, made something ache in my chest for just a moment."Okay," I said, and the tiny smile that curled my mouth was the real deal.Araxis turned and disappeared on to the bridge again, lit in a wash of yellow light, and I went to make myself my evening soup ration and find a way to try and smooth away some of the guilt I was still feeling, despite what Araxis said.
When I did eventually turn in for the night and curl up in bed, I found my mind kept returning to the way Vivith had looked at me, their black eyes shimmering with distaste.In those eyes were the stares of a hundred others who had looked at me with the same revulsion.As the ship hummed softly around me, I found myself sinking further and further away from reality until I realized, distantly, that some part of me wasn't on Creche Thiel's ship at all.Some part of me was lost in a time more than a decade before, in a grimy facility on the colony.The memory was alive, visceral: I could feel the clanky station air filtration system rumbling overhead; I could hear the deep breathing of the other children who'd neededspecial ministering; I could nearly make out the buzz of the loudspeaker outside as it droned the recitations, an endless litany; I could feel the scratchy blankets, the thin pillow, and of course I could feel thecold.It had beensofucking cold; I remembered that my breath had fogged the space around me, and I had shivered until I thought I'd never stop shaking.I was shivering now.I was tremblingand the dark around me was thick and choking; the speakers fuzzed out beyond the windows; someone nearby coughed and wheezed, and I shook under the blankets.
But I wasn't there.Iwasn't.I was here, on a ship going far away, headed in entirely the other direction and –
My mind wouldn't stop spiralling and I couldn't wrench myself back to the present; it felt like I was running as hard as I could, but my skin prickled with the awareness that a predator was watching, stalking, getting closer and closer.I shivered beneath the covers and groped through the dark for Araxis's jacket, which I'd tucked under the pillow and out of sight.I hauled it on beneath the covers, trembling, and while I knew it wasn't that cold, my body was shaking of its own accord.Traitorous, afraid, full of sensation I wanted to forget.
I squeezed my eyes shut hard, and nuzzled my nose deep into the collar of the jacket, inhaling hard, drinking in the scent of warm spice and smoke with some underlying sweetness that made me feel almost drunk.And while I could still, in my mind, hear the distant sound of other children breathing, the rasp deep in the lungs of the sickest among us, I knew I wasn't there.No part of me was there.The more I slowed my breathing, the more deliberately I reminded myself I was here, onthisship, inthisadult body, the easier it became to let the rest of it fall away, fading into the nothingness where I usually kept it.Seraphim could chase me, but they'd never catch me; they hadn't when I was fifteen and running for my life, and they wouldn't now.I was safe, and I would make sure I stayed that way, even if it meant choosing oblivion.
However safe I tried to convince myself I was, though, sleep evaded me, the spectre of everything I wanted to forget a little too close for me to drop from consciousness.It was the cold that did it: although Iknewit wasn't that cold in my little bunk, covered in blankets, I could still feel the frigid damp from more than a decade ago.My fingers felt stiff with it, and I figured that, if I could get my hands warmed up, I might be able to chase away the rest of what was haunting me, at least for now.
So I got up, scrubbing my cold fingers through my hair and blinking blearily in the darkness, and I left my little room to go to the dining room for a cup of tea.The ship was dark except for the faintest shimmer of track lighting near the edges of the walkways and on the treads of the stairs.I tapped at my wristband, and winced at the time.I'd been slipping from reality for hours, miserable and terrified, unable to fall asleep and unable to break free of my shitty memories.
It had been years since I'd had a night like this.It used to happen a lot, back when I first left Seraphim, and when I first started dancing and entertaining.It was like the worse I behaved, according to the strictures of Seraphim, the more easily I could feel the chill of their breath at the nape of my neck, keeping me from sleep.
I guess having to uproot my entire life to run from them had opened a few wounds.Reminded me of some of my own frailties.
I walked quietly down the stairs and toward the dining room.The air was so preternaturally still, the dark so plush and velvety, that for a moment I had the disorienting feeling that I might actually be entirely alone on this ship, adrift deep in space with no one around and no one to find me.But as I drew near to the dining room, I saw the doorway was lit by more than the floor lights: soft pink light slipped out around the edges of the partially shut door, just a sliver that cast an inviting glow.
I softened my steps as I drew near.If Vivith or Evreni were in the dining room, I'd go back upstairs; I'd rather be cold than deal with either of them at the moment, when I felt more than a little fragile, more than a little haunted.
But the person in the dining room, sitting on the floor by the arch into the little kitchen, his elbows on his knees and his head tipped forward, was Araxis.The dim light painted the whole room in shadows, and I was reminded at once of the shuttle here: how pretty he'd looked bathed in pink and white, against the stark black of the void outside; how his fingers had felt against my skin; the hook of his smile, the gleam of his eyes.
I reached out and rapped my knuckles softly against the metal of the door frame, to let him know I was here.At once, Araxis's head jerkedup, his black eyes flashing upwards.I saw his eyes tighten, even across the room."Hi," I said, quiet.I nudged the door shut behind me.
"It is late to be up," said Araxis, his voice a little hoarse.His hands were clasped in front of him; he was wearing something that looked soft and relaxed, as if he'd been in bed."Are you alright?"
"I can't sleep," I said, edging around the dining room table toward the kitchen."Did you want tea?"
He made a soft sound in his throat."I meant to make some.Here, I will –"
"Sit," I said, brushing past him and into the kitchen – the source of the soft pink light slicing across the dining room."I'll do it.You tell me which one."
He directed me to a little canister with loose tea that smelled floral and herbaceous and, I don't know,softsomehow.I followed his instructions, and we didn't talk beyond murmured directions for how much tea, which tea pot, which cups.All the while, Araxis still sat on the floor, perfectly still.Once I had placed the teapot and cups on the tray he'd told me to get, I brought the whole lot out and sat it down on the floor before sinking down next to him – our shoulders and hips only a few inches apart.
"Why can't you sleep?"Araxis asked quietly, once I had settled in, tipping my head against the wall to look at the shadows of the ceiling.
I blinked up at the darkness, rubbing my right thumb across the pads of my fingers thoughtlessly."Bad memories," I said finally, figuring that there was a special type of honesty permitted this late at night, this far from home, when you were this close to the end of your life."Why can'tyousleep?Or is this just where you like to spend your nights?"I looked at him from the corner of my eye, and saw that he was staring at the teapot as if it might solve all of his life's problems.
"Hm."He fluted out a soft sound, like a sigh, blinking slowly."I have been feeling quite upset with myself today."
I frowned."Why?"
He tilted his head to look at me, hands still clasped in front of him."I wish to apologize to you, if you are willing to hear it."
I stared at him, shocked.He leaned forward and lifted the teapot with his elegant hands, pouring two cups before setting it down gently.He reached and picked up one earthenware cup, holding it out to me – an offering.
I took it, the heat from the cup instantly soothing; Araxis's fingers lingered for a moment against mine, and my chest constricted, an unfamiliar sensation."Okay," I said in the dim light."I'll listen."
He picked up the other cup, cradling it in his hands."Last night," he said, voice soft in this barely lit space in the deepest hours of the night, "I spoke about abayan gender as if it is a monolith: it is not, although that is how it is presented in the more traditional creches.Many abaya feel that…" He trailed off, the skin between his eyes wrinkling.
"Feel what?"I asked, watching the steam rising from the lip of the mug.The smell reminded me of something from years ago, but I couldn't place it; it was a good memory, though.Those were the ones I had the hardest time holding; they were like clouds drifting by, fading to nothingness the moment I tried to catch them in my fingers.
He fluted out a sound that was like a sigh, barely louder than a breath."This is not something we tend to speak about.In traditional culture, you are as you are.That is immutable.Those who arenotare skoshas – the ones who do not fit.Skoshas are dangerous; they threaten our way of being.They are often exiled from their creche and sent away from our communities.This has been a point of much debate in our government, how a creche is todealwith skoshas.In the way that it was bad with your humans to be virra, it is bad with most abaya to be skoshas."
I watched him, not understanding, but feeling that he was leading up to something."Alright," I said."That's traditional culture, you said.So that means that there must be some… disagreement?"
Araxis looked relieved to not have to spell it out."Yes, you understand.Creche Thiel believes that skoshas are the shadow selves, who show us the forgotten sides of the paths we walk.The things we lose when we stop looking for new routes to chart.It was never bad, to Creche Thiel, to be skoshas.Or to be more than… what you are expected to be.There are more ways of being than what the Concord dictates.That is whatmycreche believes, although it has cost us greatly in our time."
