openmisc | Kent/Feldspar

Kent/Feldspar

"Just once more," they had said when Ellie's team petitioned for it. She was busy with Palmer, falling in love with science while he fell in love with God, and Kent was left to pick up the pieces. He wanted another damn go at it. The Machine had a pricetag in the billions; it was begging to be used again.

But they wouldn't let Ellie go. They wouldn't let just anyone go. They wanted someone who knew how it worked, who had been there from the beginning, but someone who isn't completely taken in by Ellie's words.

That leads them to a dozen people and they end up with Kent. He's blind, but that's not what decides it. They claim that he wouldn't hallucinate the way Ellie did. That he has a unique perspective.

And, he's already proven himself steady and loyal.

He experiences it all the way that Ellie does, but something goes wrong on the other end. Maybe another terrorist attack. Maybe not. All he knows is that he's in the sphere and then, suddenly, he's floating, unable to find his footing until a great crash and he slams into the bottom of the machine.

He groans, pulling his helmet on with a grunt and a wince.

"Fuck this," he mutters, finding the edge of the sphere with his hands. There was a door there somewhere. He just - has to find it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kent makes a quick fish and vegetable fry up, silently plating it before setting it on the table.

Apparently the silence starts now.

Feldspar joins Kent just in time for supper, sitting at the table with a grateful little hum. They aren’t aware that anything’s started - this just looks too good not to comment.

“You’re a great cook, you know. I miss it when I’m in space.”

Kent chuckles. "Good," he says with a laugh, deciding not to press the matter. "It's because I have to taste everything as I go."

“A novel concept,” they grin, already tucking into the meal. They start fish-first and then move onto the vegetables, pausing to fetch a bottle of sapwine Granite had made the year of their first launch.

“Here, try this. It’s a good stuff,” they tell him, pouring generously.

He brings the glass over and gives it a sniff, shaking his head. "Is that sapwine?" he asks, skeptical.

"Are you sure?"

Feldspar takes a sip with a soft huff through their nose. “Like I said,” they grin, sipping again without a wince, “it’s the good stuff. Trust me.”

Kent tries to listen for a stutter of a breath and doesn't hear it, so he deems it safe to drink. "What makes this one palatable? Do you deliberately give hatchlings the harsh stuff?"

“The age and the barrels, I think. I dunno, but it’s the good stuff. The special occasion stuff.”

They take another sip and feel it immediately head right up to their head.

“But yeah, the hatchlings need to prove their iron stomachs.”

"Have any had to do it over again?" he wonders. "The ceremony?" He's only been around for one and it went spectacularly. He can't imagine what a failure might look like.

Do the ceremony a second time? Feldspar shakes their head. “Nah, it doesn’t really work like that. The elders of the village decide when a hatchling is ready, and if said hatchling doesn’t take well to the sapwine we’ll water it down. It’s more…passing on responsibility, I guess.”

They chuckle to themselves. “Hatchlings don’t realize what’s going on until they’re older and actually in that older circle making the decisions. But to be honest, most hatchlings can handle it. Our stomachs are designed to eat all kinds of rough things.”

"Huh. Makes sense." So no one is ever left out. "And - I've seen what you eat. I have to be picky about what I cook because humans were not designed that way. Too many stomachaches."

‘So no one is ever left out’ is practically the Hearthian motto. It is a little funny to think of someone actually failing the sapwine ceremony though.

“We’ve gotten better about eating good food, okay? Our ancestors didn’t develop farming and fishing skills for us to go around eating rocks.”

"Oh no, just strange mushrooms in zero-g caves," he teases in a happy mutter, picking up some of the vegetables with his fingers to better identify them.

“You’re just mad because I haven’t brought you the mushrooms yet.”

Feldspar distractedly watches Kent graze around on his plate, eyes drawn to his fingers and then his mouth. Clearly the sapwine is going to their head.

"I am," he agrees with a smirk, and finds his own wine, tasting it.

It's not terrible! And he does enjoy it.

He even takes another drink.

Feldspar’s perfectly pleased to see Kent sipping the wine without making a face. So pleased, in fact, that they bring their sock-covered foot up to rest in Kent’s lap.

Kent startles a little and laughs. "Do you have toes?" he wonders, dropping a hand down to their foot to feel for himself.

They chuckle and wriggle said toes. “I do; they match my hands.”

He feels them move and snorts.

"Oh good. Just what I always wanted." And that foot gets shoved off. "I'm still eating!" he protests.

“I’m trying to connect with you!” they complain with a soft huff, but go right back to the wine. “Fine; tell me when you’re ready to be fun again.”

"You're not going to bait me with that," he laughs. "I am very fun. I just don't want your stinky feet upsetting my delicate constitution."

“They’re not stinky! We don’t sweat as much as humans do,” they argue, not knowing if that’s even remotely true.

"You can't possibly know that."

He grumbles, but playfully. "Maybe I'm just sweaty."

“That’s true, and it’s not like I have any way to find out.” Or any desire to be with another human in a way that would make them sweaty.

The statement would have made him sad once. Now it just makes him laugh. He stands up with his empty plate. "Good, though. Humans are very invasive."

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