The Grand Folia Hotel

Chapter 5

by keysmasht

Tags: #cw:noncon #D/s #Human_Domestication_Guide #petplay #pov:bottom #scifi #anxiety #covert_conditioning #dom:plants #hurt/comfort #maid #xenophobia

See spoiler tags :

#dollplay #memory_play

(CW: Trancey language, exhibitionism?)

The idyllic Grand Garden had been gorgeous when Phoebe had first been introduced to it the night prior, in an alluring, mysterious way: its sprawling silhouette softly illuminated by moonlight and bioluminescence. In broad daylight, however, it was as if that same alien jungle had been domesticated and floretized. Bright flowers and broad, flat leaves the size of Phoebe’s entire body hugged every path and corner, making the timid spy feel a little like a hiding pixie.

The huge patch of grass in the center that had previously been barren was now teeming with life and conversation. One or two of the little game courts were occupied, and Phoebe was pleased with herself for having correctly identified the volleyball sand pit. At the moment it was hosting a game between several sophonts and one affini, who was winning easily, and would be even if the servant referee wasn’t being bribed with pets.

It was entirely too much for a Phoebe to handle. As she, Celosia and Jazz moved further and further into the belly of the beast, the terran unconsciously drifted closer and closer to Celosia’s side, until she was practically hugging her leg through its veil of pink flowers.

“Ah, sorry, petal,” Celosia said with a sheepish grin and a comforting ruffle of Phoebe’s hair, “It’s a little busy today, but you’ve nothing to be afraid of. We’re headed straight for some friends of mine I think you’ll get along with. I can carry you, if you’d like?”

Absolutely not. She was a Free Terran and could walk herself there. She proceeded across the lawn with half her face pressed into Celosia’s thigh. Jazz walked around to hold her hand, which helped.

The aforementioned friends were picnicking on the far side of the lawn. Phoebe counted six sophonts, two of them affini. The first bore a brilliant palette of reds and oranges, and was so completely covered in leaves it was a little hard to see the bark-colored affini beneath them.

Seated beside her was a fluffy-haired girl Phoebe recognized as a fellow disciple of Anxiety. The hooded dress she wore reminded Phoebe of a recently sprouted seed in its design, and the short skirt showed rather a lot of leg, but unlike Phoebe she was wearing tights and sneakers underneath it. Her hood was up and her legs, crossed near her chest, were bouncing restlessly; despite this, she appeared to be enjoying herself, listening to the lively chatter of the duo across from her.

This duo consisted of another terran and a rinan; the terran had kicked off his shoes and was lightly dressed in a tank and shorts, and the rinan was wearing a blue-sleeved, full-body jumpsuit that admittedly reminded Phoebe of a onesie. The terran was lying flat on a soft, mossy bench, with the rinan sitting on his stomach, but the two were so full of energy that they were constantly changing position: one moment the terran was pacing around, the rinan clinging to his back, the next moment the rinan was passionately rambling from their spot on the terran’s lap.

Phoebe was fluent in Accord Standard, but that could be useless in the Compact for all she knew. Fortunately, the rinan was wearing a translator near their collarbone, so signing wouldn’t be imperative. The sixth member of the party, however, was an unknown variable.

The second affini was less deciduous than most, their body scaled with long, flat leaves that were slick almost to the point of reflection and dark bluish almost to the point of teal, but it was the floret in their lap that caught Phoebe’s attention- an orycterpan, a species Phoebe had never had the pleasure of meeting before.

They looked almost like an aardvark, but long and elegant, with two smaller eyes above their large dark ones. Their huge ears, nearly as big as their tail, flopped downwards along their back, and beneath their primary arms was a smaller second set with elongated hands. Though their legs looked like they ended in narrow hooves, they were splaying open happily as their owner cuddled them to reveal three long toes opposite a fourth in the rear.

They also weren’t really wearing anything other than a violet sarong and scarf, leaving their long abdomen and four small breasts quite exposed in a manner that a very flustered Phoebe was having a hard time looking away from.

She adamantly insisted to herself, however, that she was not, in fact, staring at their body but the strange thread looped through and around the thin fingers of their smaller hands, like a cat’s cradle. They were wearing a translator, but though they didn’t appear to be making any sound, the device was transmitting their high, soft voice all the same; it took a bit for Phoebe to realize they were somehow controlling it with the thread, pulling and sliding it along their fingers.

That made her and Jazz the only two sophonts in matching servant uniforms. Phoebe almost felt a little excited by the idea, but she heavily shot the feeling down the moment it surfaced.

She also felt a little underprepared. “Should we be wearing translators?”

“Nice catch, dandelion.” Celosia slipped a vine into her chest and returned with two clip-on translators. “By default, we go with the majority first language in the group, but that could of course change at any time. It probably won’t come up in this instance, though; Rinan Common is adorable, but the Orycterpan language can’t really be spoken.”

Interesting, if a little disappointing. Phoebe only blushed a little when Celosia clicked her translator into place on her collar.

“Jazz! Celosia!” The animated terran yelled as the trio approached, “What incredible timing!”

“We were just talking about who would win in a fight,” The rinan chirped, “between the Affini Compact and the Cosmic Necrolords from Vicious Empire III.”

Celosia didn’t even hesitate, nor did she sound enthusiastic. “The Affini would win, easily.”

“Okay, but what about the Compact versus Sigma Core from Prime Directive?”

“The Affini would win, every time, we’d fire a giant laser and we’d win.” This was said very dismissively, much to the terran’s disappointment, but the rinan seemed excited about the prospect of a giant laser. “Now, I have someone I need to introduce you to.”

Celosia gestured in the direction of Phoebe. “Everyone, this is Amaranth Inlex, Fourth Floret. She’s a friend of Jazz and I and this is her first time serving. She’s also shy, so I expect you all to be very gentle with her.” The last part was said with a pointed glare in the direction of the terran and rinan.

They didn’t seem phased, and actually laughed in response. “That’s pretty bold coming from Celosia “The Mind Breaker” Pulchris.”

“That’s not a real nickname I have, they made that up,” Celosia quickly reassured Phoebe, but it wasn’t like the girl could just ignore the potential precedents for such a moniker. “Now, if you’d all be so kind as to introduce yourselves- starting with the goblins.”

If the duo took any issue with being labeled “goblins”, they didn’t show it. The terran spoke first. “Well, since you asked nicely. My name’s Ellis, this is Ixvi–”

“Hi.”

“We’re basically bros? The gay way, not the related way.” This earned a “Hell yeah” from Ixvi. “We live here, too, since we were part of the construction team. I use he/him, by the way.”

“I’m fine with whatever,” Ixvi drawled, tiny arms slung around Ellis’ shoulders. “Gender is beneath me.”

“Shut up, you nerd,” Ellis said before launching the pair into an impromptu wrestling match. The warm affini took this as her cue to move things along.

“My name is Berberi Calidum, Third Bloom- she/her. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Amaranth, you’re every bit as adorable as your friends described.” Phoebe graced these friends with a particularly withering look, both of them coyly avoiding eye contact.

Up next was the fluffy terran, and Berberi placed a gentle hand on her back to calm her nerves. She blushed, but the positive effect was obvious. “I’m, um, Jupiter. She/her.”

The longer the newcomers waited for the rest of her name, the redder her face became, until Ellis and Ixvi couldn’t hold it anymore and burst into laughter.

“She’s not a floret yet–” Ellis began,

“But she’s practically there,” Ixvi finished from their perch on Ellis’ head. “You might as well call her ‘Jupiter Calidum, Second Floret’.”

“But you won’t,” Berberi admonished them, a vine wrapping protectively around the proto-floret in question, “because that’s a major decision she’ll make at her own pace- if she wants to.” She turned to happily hug Jupiter and added, “But of course I’d always welcome it and would love to have you.” The girl just hid herself under the affini’s foliage, her face effectively camouflaged among the scarlet leaves.

“Berberi was one of the Hotel architects, and Jupiter is a visitor from the Phellos,” Celosia explained, “but they’ll both be leaving- as far as I’ve been told- when the ship departs next month.” Phoebe noted that even Celosia was treating them like a single unit.

That left the other affini and the orycterpan. The former cleared their throat (which Phoebe knew from last night’s research they didn’t actually have). “I’ll go next. Cestro Umbrae, Second Bloom, they/he. I’m looking forward to your service, Amaranth.”

Great, so the affini was just as blush-inducing as the pet. For whatever stars-forsaken reason Phoebe actually bowed; the satisfied look on Cestro’s face when she rose made her want to either run away or strip immediately, and the latter was out of the question. Curiously she felt one of Celosia’s vines grab her by a dress-ring and pull her closer.

Cestro looked down at the floret on their lap and nodded. Permission granted, their lower hands began weaving their thread in complicated motions.

“Buunsil Umbrae, First Floret, she/her. Happy to meet you, Amaranth.”

“Don’t mind Cestro, he’s on his second bloom and going through his goth phase,” Celosia snarked, unaware that Phoebe was in the middle of blue-screening and rebooting. “They and Buunsil are only visiting as well. Ellis and Ixvi are a power pair, but if you let Jazz get too close to them the three will reach critical mass.”

Something about the fact that Jazz had been making friends here without Phoebe stung badly. It was controlling and ridiculous, of course, but the fact that it was here, in the Affini ideal of the Grand Folia Hotel, made her feel sick.

“That’s independents for you; so much spirit and no idea what to do with it.” Cestro’s smirk was made significantly less intimidating for the fact that they were presently playing four-armed pattycake with their floret.

“Oh, suck it, old man,” Ixvi groaned. It was obvious from his reaction that Cestro did not like being called “old man”. “We’re feral and we’re proud!”

“You won’t be for long,” Celosia said, as several needles unfolded from all over her right arm.

Ellis and Ixvi were overreacting in mock fear before Jazz stepped in. “Alright, alright, let’s maybe not start with complete chaos and scare Amaranth off. I was thinking we could have her host a game? Something easy to start with.”

“Aggh, we just ate,” Ellis whined, “I was gonna take a nap.”

Buunsil laughed, or at least made the throaty orycterpan analogue. “So lusus is out of the question, is what you’re saying.”

“We could play cards,” Jupiter piped in, barely audible. “We have enough sophonts for Taproot.”

Jazz shook her head. “Nah, that’s too complicated. I don’t know if she even knows the rules. Maybe later.”

Only Ixvi had yet to say anything. They were preoccupied with dramatic contemplation. “Her first day, you say?” They looked up at Ellis with a wide grin, the terran’s eyes widening as he caught on. “The way I see it, there’s only one thing to do.”

“We’re playing Rebel!!”

All three newcomers nearly jumped out of their skin, even Celosia for some reason. Berberi looked upset. “Flower, you know that isn’t an appropriate name,” she rebuked them, though her gaze was fixed on Cestro who was struggling to hold back their laughter. “We can still play, but we’re not calling it that.”

“Fine, “Feisty Floret” then,” Ixvi giggled. Berberi just sighed and discreetly stretched out a vine to squeeze Jupiter’s hand.

“Um… what exactly does this game involve?” Phoebe asked, hoping it wasn’t so popular as to make her ignorance of the rules suspect.

An already exasperated Celosia was pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s barely a game. Somebody acts as the “rebel” and is restrained by an affini with a single vine. The affini chooses a word, but tells the players only the number of letters it contains. The players take turns guessing letters until they can guess the word, after which the “rebel” is released.”

Celosia wasn’t kidding, that was barely a game. “That sounds pretty simple.”

“There’s a catch,” Jazz explained. “For every incorrect letter guessed, another vine is added. And the captor is allowed to get, uh… creative.”

Of course. Though it was probably imperceptible to anyone else, Phoebe could tell that her fellow actual rebel was getting upset having to explain such a derogatory game. They almost looked a little guilty. “What exactly is the lose condition, then?”

Cestro grinned. “Whether or not the rebel breaks first.”

“Amaranth, we don’t need to play that one,” Celosia started, “I’ll explain the rules of Taproot and we can–”

“No.”

That got everyone’s attention. Celosia looked incredulously downward at a very stubborn Phoebe.

Like she was going to succumb to a stupid playground game. Maybe once the others saw Phoebe fly through this trial with ease, they’d have some more respect for the unflinching strength of the Free Terran spirit. Or not, unless she was trying to expose herself.

Well… she was about to expose herself in another way, she suspected. “That sounds fun. Let’s start with this, then we can move on to something else.”

Cestro was laughing openly now, and Berberi was too stunned to stop him. Ellis and Ixvi looked elated, however, and unless Phoebe was fooling herself, Buunsil even looked a little impressed.

“It has to be Celosia, though,” Ellis added.

Phoebe shrugged. “It’s not like I’d want it to be anyone else.” When she turned to look at the affini, her eyes were sparkling with naked surprise. “I don’t know anyone else,” she made a point to clarify.

“Alright!” Ixvi cheered, “We’re doing this!” Their impish enthusiasm was the perfect opposite of the apprehensive look Berberi was giving Celosia.

“You’d better be careful with her, Celosia.”

Celosia grinned. “As if I’m not the most careful affini you know.”

Jupiter looked transfixed, and both Buunsil and Cestro were watching with unmasked amusement. Jazz just looked scared, so Phoebe shot her a smile and a thumbs up that hopefully wouldn’t look stupid several minutes from then.

“Then, Amaranth- if you would.” Celosia sat cross-legged in the grass, and gestured to the open spot between her legs.

Phoebe reddened but remained resolute, quickly (if a little stiffly) climbing up and onto the affini’s lap. She faced her new audience with the wide stance and crossed arms of someone about to have a rubber band snapped against their back, but lost her composure upon hearing Celosia’s tickled laughter behind her. “I admire your enthusiasm, sunshine, but we need to prepare you first.”

Turning back to the affini, the girl flinched when a pink-sheathed needle revealed itself to her. “It’s just to make the game a little more fair for the players,” Celosia assured her, obviously prepared for such a wary response. Then, checking with a glance to make sure nobody was looking, she leaned in and whispered:

“You want to be a good hostess, don’t you, Amaranth?”

Phoebe shivered, the air against her bare back suddenly feeling a little colder. Facing away from the others she could only see Jazz who, judging by her wide eyes and slack mouth, was very much privy to this exchange; but Celosia didn’t seem to mind.

For some reason, that made her only real answer even more enticing. Phoebe nodded yes.

She felt the concerningly familiar split-second prick of an Affini needle, followed by a feeling like a warm breeze passing over her entire body, and for a brief moment her brain, tricked, panicked over being suddenly fully exposed. The feeling passed and left only a sort of fuzzy numbness behind.

She looked up, and found Celosia was fixating on her intensely. Cestro chimed in to her left. “And you already have a word chosen, I presume?”

Celosia didn’t immediately respond; only for a moment before her expression brightened, apparently having made her choice. “...Yes. Ten letters.”

Then one of her vines lashed out to encircle her forearm, and Phoebe nearly doubled over. It felt amazing. Whatever Celosia had stuck her with had amplified her skin sensitivity by orders of magnitude, so much so that a single vine around her arm had her suppressing a gasp. If this was how it felt just for her arm, she was going to have a pretty difficult time holding back her noises.

This hypothesis was proven when Celosia briskly spun Phoebe around to face her patrons, and she was forced to choke down a moan as the smooth plant matter slid across her flesh. She was beginning to panic when she felt her cohost’s vine tighten reassuringly (and very pleasurably) around her arm.

“You’ve nothing to worry about, dear,” Celosia whispered over her shoulder, “they’ll be too busy trying to guess our word to watch you squirm.” Phoebe growled at her phrasing, but any further retort would risk breaking her already fraught concentration.

“Mmm, ten letters… what to start with…” Ixvi squinted and rubbed their chin, making a show of thinking with all of their ability. “...Q.”

Q?? Who the hell starts with Q? That had to be like the third least common letter!

“There’s one Q, yes.”

“Aww, damn…” Why were they upset about guessing correctly?! “Ellis, I flubbed it, you’ve gotta take over for me…”

Ellis kissed his partner in crime on the forehead. “Don’t worry, boo, I got this. T.”

Phoebe could almost taste the sadistic glee in Celosia’s response. “No T’s,” accompanied with a vine quickly leashing around Phoebe’s other arm. She bit down on her lip, struggling to keep herself quiet, as both arms were reeled quietly behind her back; enough to keep her in place but not enough to prevent her from straining futilely against her bonds.

Ixvi cheered and high-fived Ellis, who was in the middle of coming under fire from Berberi’s flat, reproachful glare. “What?? That was a perfectly reasonable guess!”

“Alright, you clowns, that’s enough,” said Buunsil, interlocking her fingers and stretching her arms over head in a way that was actually more distracting than the vines. Her secondary hands simultaneously slid along her thread and pinched down upon a small section. “Any U’s?”

Celosia nodded. “One U.” Thank the stars.

“Quarantine.”

A third vine slipped through the window on the back of Phoebe’s dress, spiraling around her torso and between her breasts to grace the back of her neck. This time she failed to suppress the resulting noise. She squeezed her eyes shut and twisted away from her viewers, and in response Celosia pulled the girl closer to her chest.

The culprit, Ixvi, was still giggling as Jupiter rolled her eyes at them. “We only have two letters.”

“I had a good feeling about that one, though.”

Buunsil stretched her thread and pinched another section. “A.”

“Two A’s.”

“E.”

“Two E’s!”

“I.”

The new vine snaked around her neck, forming a second collar, then circled around to wedge itself between Phoebe’s teeth. She silently thanked her captor for the muffle as she squeaked pathetically into it.

Only four vines and she was already overwhelmed. They slid back and forth in place between her breasts; drifted slowly up and down her arms, subtly tightened and loosened around her neck, if only to remind her that they were there. Phoebe was starting to understand what the others had meant by “breaking”: in the absence of a win, her only options were to tap out or succumb to the bliss and lose her mind.

Temporarily, of course; but she could only imagine the sounds she’d make. No way was she going to let that happen.

Cestro was observing the proceedings like a happy critic at an art show. “Ooh, the “Compass Rose” hold position. Very classy, Celosia.”

The pink affini caught the question that Phoebe was asking with her eyes. “Oh, they absolutely made that up.”

Enough letters had been gathered that the players were all getting legitimately invested now. Ellis and Ixvi were lying on top of each other again, faces scrunched in thought. “What’s the next most common letter? H?”

“No H.” Phoebe would have complained about that not even being a real guess, if she wasn’t being gagged by a vine. A fifth curled under her skirt and around her thigh. It felt so good; Phoebe didn’t care anymore. She moaned.

It also occurred to Phoebe that Terran Common was neither Buunsil’s nor Ixvi’s first language; she had no idea how fluent they were, but they couldn’t be expected to recognize the more esoteric words. The game was totally scuffed.

She felt the vine in her mouth loosen as Celosia leaned closer behind her ear. “We’re going to lose at this rate,” she whispered.

Her captive rebel groaned. “That’s rich, coming from the source of the issue.”

“Me? I’d argue we’re on the same team, here.” Jupiter guessed “O”, and Celosia slid a vine up Phoebe’s unoccupied leg. “...How do you feel about a little cheating?”

“I thought, a-ah… thought the drugs were supposed to make the game more fair?” Phoebe’s expression was gradually shifting from irritated resistance to panicked persistence as her strength was sapped. “Cheating seems below you.”

Celosia hummed. “I’ve always liked playing by my own rules. It’s not like the players haven’t already rigged things against you themselves.”

Another incorrect letter, another vine. Phoebe briefly lost control of her face muscles. “U-uh,, b-buh,, o-okay, okay, what’s your suggestion?”

Loudly, to the audience: “No N!” And then quietly again, just to Phoebe: “So quick to defer! Very good girl.” Any riposte Phoebe might have made was replaced with a moan through weakly clenched teeth, as an eighth vine found a home underneath her skirt. “It’s fairly simple, actually. All you need to do, little host, is take a deep breath in–”

Phoebe did so, the many vines restraining her body loosening gently in time with her rising chest.

“...and let it all out.” She obeyed, the vines readjusting snuggly into place. “Now- listen closely.”

Phoebe took another deep breath in, and let another deep breath out. Very faintly– only barely– she could just make out a soft humming noise. It was oscillating subtly, almost like a musical chord but without any distinct note.

“Can you hear that?”

“...Yeah.” As she listened the noise became clearer; warmer, richer and deeper. “Yeah, I can!”

“Excellent. Such a good hostess. Just focus on the rhythm, dear. Let it soothe you with every deep breath in…”

The rhythm gained dimension, an alien heartbeat overlapping the gentle hum. Phoebe could feel it now, through the vines; resonating throughout her entire body, deeper and deeper the longer she focused.

“...and still you with every deep breath out.”

Something strange began to overcome her. A euphoric clarity, an inner peace. The vines became no less intense, but rather than tear control away from her, they had joined her in the relinquishing of it; the rubbing and writhing plunging her further into tranquility rather than pleasure. The two were one and the same now.

Easier and easier it became to just… relax, and exist. This was simply the nature of her existence now; who she was. The world before her defocused and faded into the background, the rhythm replacing all sound.

Celosia purred, a purr which gently eroded the mind of the girl in her vines from the inside, leaving only smooth and gleaming glass behind. “Good… very good. You’re doing beautifully, petal. Just keep breathing in… breathing out… sinking in… letting go. Surrender yourself to my rhythm, love; can you do that for me?”

She could. She could empty herself for Celosia; she was so good at it, after all. It was so nice to listen and let go. She let the entirety of herself drain through the vines surrounding her; went so still and empty for Celosia. Because she loved Celosia. Because she was so good at it.

Because Amaranth was a–

“Good doll.”

“Masquerade!”

Both affini and terran blinked and shot upright, the latter significantly more sluggishly. Jazz was bright red and breathing heavy, and though it may just have been her completely shot brain playing tricks on her, Phoebe thought she saw a vine pull away from behind them.

“Masquerade, the word is masquerade.”

Celosia flashed her sharp teeth and winked. “Bingo.”

“Wrong game, numbskull.” Ellis was sitting at the base of the mossy bench while Ixvi braided his hair from above. “We were just about to guess that, by the way.”

“And she was just about to break,” Ixvi complained, “I could tell. Way to ruin the fun, Jazz. How many vines was that, anyway?”

Celosia beamed. “Twelve.”

“Twelve?! That has to be a new record, right?”

“I’m impressed you managed to keep it together for that long,” Buunsil giggled. “You’d make good rebel material, Amaranth.”

Berberi was pinning Celosia with a very intense look, a wordless conversation happening there that Phoebe couldn’t read. Her expression softened almost entirely, though, when her gaze returned to Buunsil and the other non-affini sophonts. “Flower, the reason we don’t call the game “Rebel” is because some of the cuties among you, even friends and family, may have been rebels themselves at some point. It’s a deeply traumatizing experience, and better not to bring up.” The orycterpan and the “goblins” paled, but said nothing. “In fact, I’m unaware if Amaranth here was ever–”

“She was never a rebel.”

Eight heads, especially Phoebe’s and Jazz’s, turned to Celosia in surprise. The carmine affini was dead serious. “I’ve dealt with a rebel or two in my time; I know what they look like.” She looked down at the exhausted terran in her lap, her expression uncharacteristically sympathetic. “Amaranth was just a girl who dearly needed some affection.”

“Her owner is very lucky to have her, then,” Berberi said with no small amount of steel.

“You were a feral tamer?” Cestro asked, almost reverently. “That must have been fun.”

“Another time, Cestro,” Berberi tersely cut in, “For now, I think we should all thank Amaranth for doing such a wonderful job.”

There was a round of ecstatic clapping, which made poor Phoebe want to curl into a ball. Celosia helpfully distracted her by indulgently petting her hair, shaking up her thoughts like a soda can as her eyes rolled back into her head.

“Ooh, ooh, can I pet her too?” Ixvi leapt off of their bench and onto Celosia’s knee, with Ellis not far behind. “Her hair looks really soft!”

While Celosia fended off her paparazzi, Phoebe caught Jupiter staring at her, slack-jawed, with unmitigated envy. Phoebe felt weird and a little bad that she was making someone jealous of her florethood despite not even being a floret, but seeing as Jupiter appeared to be one pleading look away from getting implanted, she’d probably be fine.

Yes, the haustoric implant: something else Phoebe had learned about during the previous night’s fruitful research session. No matter how goofy they may have seemed, Phoebe needed to remember that the Affini were their captors here, captors that regularly glued parasitic control mechanisms to sophonts’ spines. She tried her best to ignore the way her body naturally responded to what was supposed to be a terrifying concept.

The rest of the day proceeded in significantly less harrowing fashion. Jazz taught her how to play Taproot, and as it turned out Phoebe was a force to be reckoned with as the dealer of the house. Curiously, as the day went on, playing her role as servant and hostess became easier and easier.

She even got to spend some time with Buunsil, who was happy to teach her about her threadlike translation mechanism. Orycterpan languages, she explained, are physically communicated with their hands rather than spoken. The studded peripheral was developed to more closely resemble those movements in its usage; essentially, it was a lot faster, more comfortable, and easy to learn.

When Phoebe asked about the actual language, Buunsil demonstrated by raising a long hand to her collarbone; tapping once with her thumb before sliding it lightly across the edge.

“That’s my name,” she beamed, “‘Boon-seal’. The spoken form is onomatopoeia. Cute, right?” Phoebe tried not to look as catastrophically sapphic as she felt.

She’d just finished officiating a game of lusus (which was pretty much just polo with the underlings riding piggy-back on the affini) when Phoebe decided to push her luck. “Not to kill the mood, but this place doesn’t look very heavily defended. Should we be worried about–” She checked to make sure Berberi wasn’t listening. “...you know. Insurgents?”

“If they’re as resilient against xenodrugs as you are, then yes, we should be worried,” Ellis laughed. “Nah, I’m just joshing. If Celosia had used the stronger stuff you’d have been a mewling puddle in seconds.” Good to know. “In all seriousness, we actually are heavily defended, even if we don’t look it.”

Lying in the grass nearby, Ixvi pointed upward, at the blue skies and wispy clouds above the Grand Folia Hotel. “Believe it or not we are, at this moment, sitting beneath the protection of a state-of-the-art, modified firebreak. You know, those things big Compact ships are equipped with that punch holes in spacetime. Doesn’t matter what they send at us: we’re sending it back.” The rinan grinned deviously. “Might ‘return to sender’, even.”

“No you won’t, because that’s not how it works,” Jazz interrupted, Ellis silencing his partner(?) in the background by hugging them to his chest like a plushie. “Everything goes into hyperspace; there’s no way Paspal would ever let you steer it around like a weapon.”

She turned to speak to Phoebe specifically. “And by “state-of-the-art” they mean a slapdash monstrosity that’s being tamed in post by the head technician, Paspal Creo. Ixvi helped build it, up in the maintenance deck. But the way it does work… Amaranth, it’s incredible!!”

Then they did it; that expression Phoebe hadn’t been graced with in so long. Their eyes lit up, and the biggest, dopiest grin unfurled across their face, just like Phoebe remembered it so long ago on that terrible ship, and Phoebe realized she was about to be blessed with a bonafide Jazz infodump.

They explained the system at length; stuff about hyperspace and traction engines and exotic matter that Phoebe couldn’t understand, though she tried her best. After several minutes of this, they stopped and blushed sheepishly. “Aha, sorry, I kind of went off the rails there. It’s just all really exciting!”

Phoebe, who had leaned against another mossy bench and laid her head upon one arm to listen with all of her attention, didn’t have any response prepared other than “Duhhh ur hot, also please scramble my guts” and opted instead for a simple, “That’s so cool.”

Jazz smiled shamelessly, which made her heart soar, but she also mentally jotted this all down as being very useful to her mission. She’d have to check out the maintenance deck later.

The group decided it was late enough to pack up after Jupiter had fallen asleep in Berberi’s lap. Just before they left, Buunsil and Cestro asked Phoebe if she’d be working the “Half-Moon Matinée”. Phoebe wasn’t even sure what a “matinée” was.

“It’s just dinner and a show,” Buunsil giggled, “but like, lunch; and it happens every half a month or so. You get to dress up really fancy, and all sorts of bands and acting troupes sign up to perform during it. You should go!”

“What she’s saying, Amaranth,” Cestro clarified, “is that she wants you to show up at our table in a pretty waitress dress so she can dote on you.” Buunsil went bright red and spun around with a shrieked “Mistress!!”, but the affini just laughed and winked at Phoebe. “I’m looking forward to it too, dear; so don’t be late.”

Once everyone had left, Jazz turned to Phoebe. “You probably have your own temporary hab, but… if you want, you could sleep with me? I’ve got a pod and everything.”

Phoebe would have been reluctant to sleep outside the security of her own room, if that illusion of security had not been shattered upon waking up that morning. Plus, she had to admit, she really wanted to see the interior of one of those pods. “Sure.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Celosia was hurrying back with a huge cookie she’d gotten from one of the stalls nearby, breaking off a couple pieces and handing them to each of the girls. “That’ll be so much fun! We could watch a movie, but you might be a little too tired for that–”

“Um.” Phoebe awkwardly cleared her throat. “You’re not really invited?”

Celosia blinked, then deflated and rubbed the back of her neck. “Oh, haha, right. Sorry, I got a little ahead of myself.” She was doing her best not to look upset, but her drooping antennae kind of gave everything away. It felt like she’d just tripped a puppy, but Phoebe wasn’t about to suggest anything else; Celosia was the enemy, after all.

Jazz held the big plant’s hand. “It’s alright, Celosia; we’re gonna crash immediately. We’ll see you in the morning as soon as we wake up.” Phoebe wasn’t sure why Jazz was bothering with comforting her, but to be honest, she was a little grateful Jazz was doing it in her stead.

The smile returned to Celosia’s face. “Of course.” She loosened and tightened her arm vines in an alien stretch. “I’ll carry you to the door, though. You can’t really reach it without affini assistance.”

She snickered at Phoebe’s confused look. “We like making you ask for help.”

They parted ways to wash up and dress down, then met up again at the base of the reclining room, both terrans newly pajama’d. Jazz pointed to a pod dangling around the third floor. Phoebe held on for dear life as Celosia picked them both up, shot out some vines to anchor herself to the wall-hooks, and rocketed them up, around and between the pods before stopping at the door to Jazz’s.

The interior was more or less exactly what Phoebe had imagined: the concave floor of the pod was leveled out by a dragon’s hoard of pillows and blankets of every shape and size. She stepped inside and sunk up to her knees in upholstery, forcing her to crawl the rest of the way in.

Jazz simply threw herself on top of the pile with a -thwump!-. “Ahhh, that’s more like it. I’m beat.”

Hanging from the ceiling was some sort of mounting fixture resembling a mobile; three of its four net-like arms were empty, but the fourth carried a small projector and a tablet. With a single light push from Jazz, the entire structure spun and folded upwards until it had compressed into a fraction of its former size. They grinned back at Phoebe, taking in her reaction. “So? It’s like a sleepover, right?”

Phoebe giggled, thoroughly exhausted. “I’ve never actually been to one of those before.”

Celosia lingered in the doorway. Something in her body language told Phoebe that she really didn’t want to leave, but the affini managed to hide it pretty well. “I’ll see you both in the morning, then? At the front desk.”

“Yep!” Jazz chirped.

A traitorous part of Phoebe nearly went back on her previous demand for Celosia’s departure, but it was quickly silenced. She could only nod in response.

Celosia quietly looked them both over one last time, then smiled warmly. “Sleep well, you two.”

She closed the opening, and Phoebe and Jazz were alone again.

Neither girl said anything for a time, until Phoebe broke the silence. “You and Celosia seem pretty close.”

Jazz cleared her throat. “I mean, yeah. Like she said, we just kind of hit it off, and she’s been a good source of inside information ever since.” They paused to grab a pillow and hug it to their chest. “But yeah, I’ve been having some fun, I guess. I basically live here, I’m not gonna work myself constantly.”

Phoebe hummed noncommittally, pawing at a blanket. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

More silence. The semi-translucent walls of the pod turned their surroundings into drifting colorful gradients and soft noise, emphasizing their company even further in comparison.

“So, um… no pressure, of course, but you said earlier that you’d tell me more about your mission after seeing a little more of the Hotel.”

Phoebe took a deep breath. Might as well get it out of the way. “They didn’t tell me much. They’ve been stockpiling explosives, and they’re planning to raid the hotel. Threatening the pets as a means to make demands, I guess. They want me to scout for potential weaknesses to target.”

“What?!” Not a surprising response, and one Phoebe definitely empathized with. “That’s– that’s just terrorism! You’re not actually going to help with that, right?”

“Of course not.” She noted Jazz’s sigh of relief. “But I can’t just sit on my ass. I have to do something, they’ll never let me return to the base otherwise.”

“Why would you even—“ Jazz cut herself short, suddenly fumbling over her words.

They turned away from Phoebe, fidgeting with the pillow in their arms. “…If they’d really resort to that, then… they’ve changed a lot.” Quietly, she added, “Is it even a rebellion anymore?”

Phoebe winced. “Jazz… is there a point to these questions?”

The other girl turned back to face her, apprehension visible in their eyes. Phoebe would recognize it anywhere; she needed to tone it down.

She sighed. “I was told to do something and I’m doing it. It isn’t any more complicated than that. It’s not like I have anything else to do with myself.”

Jazz hugged their pillow. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”

Phoebe’s face was growing hot, but not with anger or embarrassment. This wasn’t like the Jazz she remembered. The Jazz of the past had a playfully sarcastic remark for every vent and complaint, which Phoebe appreciated not just as support, but because it gave her the means to repress and ignore her issues.

The Jazz sitting in the pile of pillows with her right now was honest and unafraid of her emotions; and far from being angry about it, from demanding to know what had happened to their Free Terran spirit, Phoebe was just jealous. Why did Jazz get to just walk away from her pain? Why did Phoebe have to be the only person here who seemed to be suffering from depression, or self-hatred? Why did she have to feel so out of place and broken no matter where she was?

Before she realized she was crying, Jazz had already crawled over to her and quickly pulled her into their arms. Phoebe really missed how easy they made these things. She sobbed and sobbed as Jazz rubbed her back and whispered that she’d be okay.

When she’d gotten it out of her system, Jazz pulled away and wiped the tears from Phoebe’s eyes. Though blushing, they asked, “Would… you be okay with sleeping closer to me tonight? I don’t want to let go of you.”

Phoebe sniffed and nodded. “Thank you, Jazz.” She sniffed again. “…I really missed you.”

The other girl laid her back against the pillows and grabbed a blanket before kissing her on the forehead. “I missed you too. Everything’s going to be okay from now on.”

Phoebe didn’t ask what they meant by that. She pushed her face into their neck as they lay next to her, luxuriating in the familiar scent of their skin overpowering the salt on her cheeks.

The ceiling of the pod was speckled with little glow-in-the-dark stars, and looking up at them Phoebe was reminded of the old constellations from back home. She traced the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt into an alien night sky. Maybe she’d never get back home… but maybe being in Jazz’s arms was home enough.

She could hear Jazz’s heartbeat through their neck. She’d long struggled with insomnia, but tonight, the memory of Celosia’s warm pulse lulled Phoebe right to sleep.

Thanks for sticking with me this far! The feedback has been fueling me; The coming chapters are going to be a lot of fun, so do stay chooned

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