Phoebe skulked around the outer edge of the reclining hall’s second floor balcony, past volunteer food stalls, vacationing crowds of sophonts and frilly collared servants like herself. She tried to stay near the shadows, and refused to stop moving for even a moment, but she wasn’t heading anywhere in particular other than “away”.

 

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had she said any of that to Jazz? Could she not have just kept her mouth shut? She was afraid, and she was confused; but now she was alone, too, which somehow felt much worse.

 

She kept her head down and focused on the muted pitter-patter of her rapid footsteps against the breezy carpeting. Phoebe looked at her fancy swimwear and gilded nails and felt an ancient, instinctual small mammal desire to find somewhere cramped, dark and warm and curl into a ball. The unreality of this alien dollhouse she found herself in was beginning to wear away at her sanity; she wasn’t sure how much more “Grand” she could take. 

 

She needed to be anywhere else. Somewhere normal and familiar and safe which, to her dismay, meant somewhere like Tereus-1, or even the Jungle’s Bane. Nothing but exposed machinery and narrow passageways. 

 

And Jazz, she lamented; but that bridge was still freshly burned.

 

Wait. She stopped abruptly to skim a holomap set over the wall, near the ramp to the next level. She found what she was looking for at the very top of the map: the perfect place. 

 

Phoebe braced herself for the climb, and headed for the apex of the Hotel lobby.

 

It said a lot about the Grand Folia Hotel that the seventh-story maintenance deck was one of the least outrageous areas of the building, because it was still overtly alien and hyper-advanced. Upon entering Phoebe found herself bordered on either side by complex machinery, spanning from floor to ceiling, none of which looked even remotely familiar. Every inch of it was covered in red holographic notes- small and square, many written in unfamiliar scripts, but most written in either Accord or Rinan Common. They were full of technical jargon, and auto-translated whenever Phoebe looked directly at them; those that didn’t, she assumed, were most likely written in Affini languages.

 

The scale-like manner in which they blanketed the walls of wires, tech and tubes made the room feel like a lair for twin cybernetic dragons, twisted into massive vermilion knots for hibernation. A lair that had been overgrown by a parasitic meadow, Phoebe amended, noting the wildflower-dotted vines winding through and around everything. 

 

The room was beautiful, much to Phoebe’s disappointment; it smelled like wildflowers and fresh air rather than dust and overheating equipment like she’d been naively anticipating. At least it was quiet, and somewhat cozy.

 

“Oh, Amaranth! Hi!” Phoebe broke her attention from the walls to find the source of the voice at the far end of the room. Ellis was sitting on a large red cushion in front of a massive control panel that spanned the entirety of the far wall, which itself sat beneath a panoramic window. “I didn’t hear you come in. Welcome,” he declared, introducing the room with a wide sweep of his arms, “to our evil lab.”

 

“Oh dirt, Amaranth’s here?” Ixvi’s translator piped in above a background of rinan chirping. “Hold on, let me finish what I’m doing.” 

 

Phoebe couldn’t see them, but their voice had echoed from somewhere deep within the machine-wall. She squinted into the darkness; the inner workings were backlit in places by a frosty blue light. How far back did all of this go?

 

“This is the same Amaranth you two keep going on about, I take it?”

 

Phoebe yelped when a wildflower brushed across her head, its parent vine slithering back into the crevices of the wall. This new voice was unfamiliar, but definitely Affini. She watched as the parasitic meadow unwound itself, its vines criss-crossing through the wide center aisle of the room, before assuming an approximate humanoid form. The holonotes automatically readjusted themselves as the last remaining vines slithered out from underneath them.

 

“I’m glad I can finally put a face to a name,” they said, smiling amicably as they finished adjusting their vines. “Paspal Creo, Seventh Bloom, Head Engineer and Technician for your Grand Folia Hotel. Any pronouns are fine. Wonderful to have you, Amaranth; it’s been a while since we’ve had the pleasure of a visiting floret.”

 

“What, are we not good enough for you?” Ellis teased, balling up a nearby holonote and tossing it at Paspal. Being a hologram, it passed directly through them and stuck itself to the drive rack on the other side. 

 

“Nobody’s good enough for Paspal,” Ixvi complained, finally emerging from the wall. “They’re always too absorbed in their work to give us any attention.” The little rinan hopped up to Phoebe for a big hug, only to step back afterward and look her over. “Were you just at the spa?”

 

It took a hug for Phoebe to realize she was still wearing her swimwear. “Um, yeah. But, y’know, it’s… kind of a tummy-out day?” Ixvi nodded sagely in understanding.

Paspal tapped Ellis’ thrown note twice, and it recrumpled itself across the gap as if it were reversing time, bouncing off of the terran’s hand before returning to its original position on the wall. 

 

“You both know I cherish your company,” the affini said, but Phoebe couldn’t help but notice that Paspal had already gotten back to work. One of their arms was still unwound deep inside the machinery, presumably along with the two missing eyes of their full six. The other had split itself in two to simultaneously hold and tap on a tablet. Bunched together like this, their many yellow and white flowers gave them the impression of a very eggy bouquet. “I’m just a poor conversationalist.”

 

Ellis giggled. “We know, Paspal. We just love messing with you.” Paspal smiled and administered simultaneous headrubs with their double-arm. They were nothing if not efficient.

 

“So, what brings you here, Amaranth?” Paspal asked, turning back to Phoebe. “Ixvi didn’t tell you I’d let you use the outdoor garden light grid to play Checkers, did they?”

“Nah, Jazz described the firebreak the other day and I was curious. They mentioned you by name, actually.” The answer wasn’t entirely honest, which she disliked, but she was trying to hide from her fears right now, not revisit them.

 

“Oh, that’s right! You’re friends with Jazz,” Paspal said, their eyes lighting up with interest. “She’s a dear, isn’t she? Very inquisitive and creative.” The affini had apparently been using their open torso as a makeshift toolbox; They hummed happily as they swapped out tools with a returning vine, and Phoebe could faintly see green ripples of light cascading across their partially exposed core. “I feel very fortunate, having so many clever sophonts around to inspire me.”

 

“A-ah, yeah,” Phoebe smiled awkwardly, “They’re a genius.” It had been a bad idea to mention Jazz; And I love her for it, she’d wanted to say, but the usual wave of warm affection just felt cold and lost in her chest. It had been cruel to bring it into the world.

 

She shook off the melodrama before she got stuck brooding over all of the other myriad things she loved about Jazz. “I don’t actually know what any of this stuff is, though. Is all of…” Phoebe gestured vaguely to the walls. “...this, the firebreak?”

 

“Most of this is just the central computer of the Hotel,” Ixvi explained. They had relocated to Ellis’ lap for head scratches. “It connects to those access closets you’ve probably seen everywhere. The firebreak– well, it’s only kind of a firebreak, really– that’s towards the back, where I just was. You probably won’t be able to see it up close… unless you can unravel your body into vines to crawl through small spaces, and just haven’t told me yet.”  

 

“Unfortunately not,” Phoebe chuckled. “You can just show me everything else, if that’s alright?” She knew it would be, of course, because Ixvi was visibly chomping at the bit to begin explaining things at length.

 

The terran/rinan pair went into further detail on the central computer; it was fun listening to their back-and-forth, but Phoebe found herself sorely wishing it was Jazz explaining everything instead. They even wheeled out a ladder stool from beneath the affini-sized control panel so she could check it out. Apparently, other than the firebreak, it controlled the Hotel’s power distribution, displayed hab statuses, and even had a comm unit that served as both an intercom and a means of communication with nearby ships.

 

“Like the Phellos, for example, but they don’t even need to be in orbit,” Ellis had explained.

 

Phoebe leaned over the control panel to stare out the panoramic window. The Phellos still hung there- far into upper orbit, but it was so unbelievably gargantuan that it felt much closer, dipping downward into the sky as if reaching for her. It was stained blue and obscured by the atmosphere, and faded into nothing the further upward it stretched. To Phoebe it seemed like a ghost; the haunting presence of her big lie, and its inevitable catastrophic end looming ever closer.

 

Eventually she couldn’t bear to look at it anymore, and when she looked away she found that Ellis and Ixvi had joined her above the control panel. There was enough open space to sit up there, and it took Phoebe a moment to realize it had probably been deliberately built with a spot for florets to sit while their owners worked.

 

“It’s gorgeous, right?” Ellis said, looking up at the ship. “I’d be jealous of you, getting to live on that thing, if Ixvi and I weren’t going to be leaving on it with you.”

 

“Does it really have a park that wraps around an entire habitation ring?” Ixvi asked, wiggling with excitement. “And the Terran Interplanetary Museum of Science and Industry moved up there! Agh, I’m so pumped to visit it! Have you ever been?”

 

“I don’t think I could adequately describe it,” is what Phoebe said in response. In truth, most of what she knew about the Phellos amounted to a single obituary.

 

The maintenance deck window overlooked the Grand Garden, and the big jade caldera below it. From this angle and distance the garden looked like a little moon orbiting a milky green planet. Phoebe searched for the spot where she’d first met Ellis, Ixvi and the others the other day, and eventually found the tree and benches they’d gathered by in a far corner. She was struck by how small they looked; that entire scene with Celosia must’ve barely been a footnote against everything else that had occurred in the Garden that day.

 

That day… A cold unease settled on her shoulders upon remembering what she’d learned less than an hour ago. There was something she needed to ask. “Ellis, Ixvi… can you tell me more about Cestro? I didn’t get to talk with them much.”

 

“Oh, Cestro Umbrae?” To Phoebe’s surprise, it was Paspal who responded first. “I’m familiar. He was a researcher on the Terran cotyledon program, mapping neural pathways and the like. I’ve read some of their papers, actually; very impressive work for a first bloom.”

Ellis shrugged. “I was just going to say he’s a huge dork. They and Celosia are old friends, actually. He’s the only one who reaches her level of nonsense, except he always calls it “diablerie”.”

 

“Jupiter says they have “big theater nerd energy”,” Ixvi said. It was difficult for Phoebe to imagine those words coming from Jupiter’s mouth. “Cestro helps Celosia write her plays, actually, and he and Buunsil act in them sometimes.”

Phoebe’s brow quirked. “Celosia writes plays?”

“Yeah, all the time.” Ixvi appeared equally surprised. “She’s kind of famous, actually. Has she never mentioned it?”

Phoebe did vaguely remember Celosia mentioning play-writing as one of her interests earlier, along with whatever “the habits of the intelligent mind” was supposed to mean. She’d segued into bolstering Phoebe’s self-esteem before she could go into any detail, though. “I guess we’ve just been so busy, we haven’t had a lot of time to talk.” 

 

She felt a little guilty about not having connected more with Celosia, but the affini had been lying to her, after all. Phoebe wasn’t exactly innocent either in that regard; but for some reason she felt a weird mix of shame and jealousy that Ixvi and Elllis likely knew far more about Celosia than she did.

 

Ixvi didn’t seem to entirely believe her, but if so they decided not to push it. “Why do you ask about Cestro, though? Is it because of what they said about the Half-Moon Matinée?” The rinan’s face split into a devious grin. “Is it because of what they said about Buunsil?”

 

“It’s not what they said about Buunsil,” Phoebe groaned, immediately flustered. It wasn’t like she could tell them the real reason, that she was suspicious of him. “It’s… well, I guess it’s about the Matinée, yeah. It sounded like he expected me there, but I don’t know if they really meant that or were just… teasing me, I guess. I don’t even know if I want to go.” Considering everything that had happened she was, at the moment, leaning towards a hard ‘no’.

 

But Ellis looked surprisingly sympathetic. “They were definitely teasing you, and they’d never hold it against you if you didn’t show. I know everything here sounds needlessly grandiose, but the Matinée is actually pretty chill. And, well…” He stopped briefly to rub the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I was being a little much during that Rebel game the other day. Celosia did say you struggle with anxiety.”

“You were just taking it like a champ,” Ixvi said. “It was easy to forget. I’m sorry too, Amaranth, but I really think you’ll enjoy the Matinée.”

“Th-thanks?” Phoebe replied, unsure about whether or not she had just been complimented. “Really, though, thank you for helping me feel better about this.”

 

Ellis beamed proudly. “Yeahhh, well, that’s just who I am. You can always count on good advice from Ellis Quinn, Independent Extraordinaire–”

 

He was cut off by his stomach, which had chosen that moment to make itself known with a loud growl.

 

Paspal frowned. “Ellis, when was the last time you ate?”

 

“Uh…” The terran shrunk inward. “Whoopsie? We were busy!”

Paspal had an exceptional poker face, likely because their entire face had to be manually manipulated, but Phoebe could hear them buzzing- an emotional response she was beginning to recognize. She was starting to wonder if the reason Paspal “never gave them attention” was because they were constantly restraining the urge to coddle Ellis and Ixvi like florets, or worse.

 

“Well, that won’t do,” is what Paspal ultimately went with. “I’ll go with you to get something to eat. Ixvi, you’re not getting out of this either.” 

 

The rinan had been in the middle of sneaking off into the wall of tech, and sagged dejectedly upon getting called out. “Uh, I was going to stay up here with Amaranth. Can you just get me something?”

 

“Fruit bowl?”

Ixvi grinned. “You know me so well.”

 

Paspal helped Ellis down from the control panel, and the two headed for the door. “We’ll be right back,” Paspal said. “Amaranth, if we’re not back before you leave, it was lovely meeting you. Your owner is a very lucky plant.”

 

Phoebe blushed, fingering her collar as the door closed. It was so comfortable she’d forgotten it was there.

 

She went to climb down from the control desk when she noticed something she hadn’t earlier: a chunky-looking vertical lever in a plastic covering, set into the side of the desk at about waist height. “What’s this for?”

 

“Hm?” Ixvi leaned out from the wall towards where the terran was pointing. “Oh, that’s the emergency failsafe lever. In a worst-case malfunction scenario it’ll shut down the firebreak, and the entire Hotel will switch to backup power. It’s pretty standard.”

Phoebe was about to ask why that would ever be necessary or a good idea when there was a knock on the door. Unnecessary, given that it was an unlocked auto-door, and it spun open to reveal the familiar pink foliage of Celosia Pulchris, hand still raised.

 

“...Right,” she said, deciding to take the goof in stride before striding through the door herself, nodding to Ixvi as she did. “Hi, Ixvi. You’re looking very fluffy today.” The rinan fluffed proudly at this.

 

Celosia cleared her throat, a humbling gesture for an affini which was rapidly becoming one of Phoebe’s favorites, save for this one instance where it was dreadful. She could easily tell by now that Celosia’s current confidence was a total ruse, though she wasn’t sure what gave it away. “Amaranth, would you mind coming with me?”

 

“Sure,” Phoebe said, and she walked out the door with Celosia. She decided not to ask how the affini knew she was here. She decided she was very tired of questioning these things.

 

 

Phoebe figured Celosia was going to break the news. She didn’t know how she would go about it- presumably something like “Surprise, you’ve been had” or “I just got a call from the person-vet, and I’m sorry to say but we’re going to have to put a worm in your head” or maybe just implanting her over a nearby bench. She wasn’t entirely sure how implantation worked. What Phoebe did not expect was to make it barely three steps out the door before being swept up into a tight, warm hug.

 

It was a long one. Celosia was buzzing; the sensation reminded Phoebe of a purring cat, and it settled inside of her in a way that made the hug feel like more than just a hug. Phoebe couldn’t focus on anything else until Celosia knelt and gently pulled away, and when she did Phoebe realized she didn’t want her to let go.

 

“I’m sorry I ran away.” Why had she said that? She hadn’t agonized over it first. It just felt like the right thing to say. “I got in a fight with Jazz.”

 

Celosia gave her a contrite smile as she petted the girl’s hair. “Dandelion, darling, it’s okay. They’re safe, and they aren’t mad at you. You’ve been through a lot in the past few days–” 

 

She cut herself off, breaking eye contact as she nervously reconsidered her words. “I’ve put you through a lot in the past few days; and that was wrong of me, and I’m sorry; very sorry, truly, and I hope you know I only ever want what’s best for you, and I just want you to be happy but the truth… the truth is…” 

 

Her eyes were stuttering again. For the first time since Phoebe had met her, Celosia looked, and felt, afraid. “The truth is–”

 

“It’s okay.”

Celosia’s gaze flicked back to Phoebe, completely taken by surprise. The girl had laid a consoling hand on the affini’s arm, and though it was hesitant she was smiling earnestly. “I am happy; I’ve been happy. And…” She had to pause a moment, so her brain could pick up on the words her mouth had already been ready to say. “I really enjoy spending time with you.”

Phoebe had no idea why in the Black Abyss she would say that, when this thousand-year-old alien had lied to her, led her through a cavalcade of ridiculous situations, and apparently screwed with her memories; but after she’d said it, she got to watch as Celosia’s dimmed eyes gradually illuminated into shining, glimmering jewels, and she began to understand. She’d needed to say it, just as Jazz needed to be her rock when she was afraid herself; Celosia had been her rock, and now it was Phoebe’s turn.

 

“Yeah,” Celosia whispered, with the voice of someone whose entire prepared speech had been derailed in the least predictable way and who no longer knew what to do with themself. “Me too.”

 

It was stupid, and delaying the inevitable, but Phoebe decided then and there that she was not going to let this play out like Celosia wanted. “I lied about my dream earlier.” 

 

Celosia blinked, struggling to keep up with the conversation. “The dog one?”

 

“Yeah. Or, at least, I left a lot out.” She still wasn’t ready to tell her everything, about her old Free Terran ship and the nightmare crew, even if it probably didn’t matter anymore. “I… grew up in a conservative bubble, and I didn’t fit in. I feel like I spent half of my childhood just trying to make it through the day, and pretending to be somebody that wasn’t a target.”

Celosia was still listening patiently, so Phoebe kept going before she lost her nerve. “I feel a little silly obsessing over it– I escaped, after all, it’s over and I’m alive– but I still feel so… broken, all the time. Compared to everyone else. Like I spent two decades just hiding while everyone else lived, and only now do I have to learn how to be a person and live my own life– and it sticks to me; I just want to be like Jazz, or Ellis or Buunsil, but sometimes I feel like I’ll never be able to change.” 

 

Celosia seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then, once again, she surprised Phoebe by answering in the exact opposite fashion than the girl had expected. “I can relate to that, actually. I often feel broken, too. I’m not good at being an affini.”

What? “What do you mean?” 

 

Celosia sighed. “Amaranth… I wasn’t being entirely truthful, either, when I told you I didn’t remember my florets.”

 

Phoebe sensed she had stumbled upon something very old and very solemn, but even she could tell that it’d been a long time coming. She found herself sitting on the floor against the leafy wall with Celosia, waiting for her to continue.

 

The affini took a moment to prepare herself, and gather her thoughts. When she was ready, she said, “Their names were Linphe and Orgata. First and Second Floret, but I had a different second name back then, during my first bloom. They lived a long time ago, for a terran, and very far away from here.”

“They were perfect. Linphe was the one who gave me my love of theater, actually. She said it was a “universal language,” and as a result it ought to be of interest to a universe conqueror like myself.” She chuckled. “I thought that was really cute.”

 

“We met Orgata in my second domestication initiative, when Linphe temporarily joined a performers’ cult as part of an exchange program. She kept coming to me with questions about life as a floret, and going to Linphe for advice about staying in the cult, without realizing that Linphe was a floret herself and I was her owner. She only figured it out when all three of us were requested to perform at another floret’s implantation anniversary.”

 

Celosia laughed softly to herself, reflecting on happy memories. “And, as you terrans say, “the rest is history”. We traveled on dozens of cruisers, performed across multiple galaxies, before finally retiring on a moon much like this one; just the three of us and a mobile cabin in a beautiful pink meadow. We’d discovered true happiness.”

 

A long moment of silence followed. “Then, they died.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” Phoebe didn’t really know what to say to that. “What happened?”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for, flower, but thank you,” Celosia said, leaning back against the wall. “Nothing happened. They lived multiple times as long as they would have without us, and they were happy; we were happy, and then they died of completely natural causes.”

 

She did something weird with her body; rattling and tightening her vines, like her whole self was an angry clenched fist. Phoebe could tell this was an ancient and oft revisited feeling; the sort of feeling that, no matter how exhausted the muscles became from repetition, the hand would always remember the anger. 

 

“But they didn’t have to! We had options; they could have digitized! But they didn’t… they didn’t want to.” The anger deflated, the same way it always did, and Celosia’s antennae drooped as she slumped back against the wall. “They said it was the perfect ending to the perfect life, it was an ending they were so grateful to have. I didn’t understand. But I let them go.”

“And now they’ve been dead for twelve hundred years,” she said, “and I’m… I’m not.” 

 

Celosia rumbled weakly, staring off into space. “Everybody dies. Everybody but us,” she said. “It’s the only thing we’re really afraid of.”

 

She went quiet for a moment, watching another affini enthusiastically dote on their floret nearby. The floret looked like she was having the time of her life, but she was clearly getting on in years, and as far as Phoebe could tell the affini could be fifty or they could be five thousand. Phoebe reached out to hold Celosia’s hand, and Celosia took it gratefully.

 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it for centuries afterward,” she said. “That if I’d just forced them to digitize, they’d still be here. Isn’t that part of knowing what’s best for them? Shouldn’t I have prevented their deaths through any means necessary, even if they didn’t want it? But I couldn’t tell where my responsibility ended, and my own selfish feelings began. Everyone else acts like knowing what’s best is easy, but it’s not.”

 

“But I like that about you,” Phoebe said. “You’re not like the other affini. You don’t act invincible around me.”

Celosia smiled down at her, but it wasn’t a smile free of pity. “I’m starting to wonder if that’s a bad thing, if it makes you feel less safe.”

 

She looked down at her lap, where her hands had begun fiddling with the pink flowers of her skirt. “As an affini, to take a floret is to make an eternal promise, to take on an eternal burden; the promise of loving them while they’re alive and the burden of remembering them after they’re gone. But you need to accept the reality of that burden, and I’m a coward, so I couldn't… and I can't.”

 

“So I wrote everything down,” she said. “Memories; pages upon pages, copies upon copies so they’d never be lost; and to this day I’m still too much of a coward to revisit them. I’m afraid of the pain… I’m afraid of my happy pain, born from their unnecessary pain I could’ve prevented. There’s no justice in that.”

 

“Any other affini would tell you that immortality is our greatest privilege, it’s why we have a responsibility to pay it forward to the universe. Most of the time it just feels like a curse. If an affini ever tells you they’ve never felt that way about it, at least once in their infinite lives, they’re either lying or they’ve never taken a floret.”

Celosia let out a long sigh. “That’s what I’m tempted to tell you, at least. In reality, it all seems pretty easy for everyone else, so… I just don’t personally bother anymore. But I’m not proud of myself for that.” 

 

“I think I understand though,” Phoebe said. “It’s like… what’s the point of all this, if we’re just going to arbitrarily lose it, you know?”

Celosia smirked. “I don’t know if I’d put it like that. But I appreciate that even a terran like yourself can see that death is total mulch.” Before Phoebe could say anything she added, “You’re not allowed to say that, you’re a floret,” and the girl went appreciatively silent.

 

“Well… can’t the Compact do anything, though?” Phoebe asked, completely genuine. “Why not just, I don’t know… cure death? Or cancel it?”

A grin slowly blossomed on the affini’s face. “Oh, I do like where your head’s at, dandelion. Why not indeed? I’ll have to add that to my agenda.”

“I can’t be the first sophont to think of it,” the terran replied with a conspiratorial blush. “I’ll be sure to visit you when you solve it, though.”

Celosia laughed, bright peals of laughter, her previous malaise entirely chased away. Phoebe relished in it. “I’ll make sure of it, flower. It’s going to be quite the party.”

 

They bathed in the warmth of that moment for a while; the joy of having taken their first step towards overcoming death itself, and it almost made up for the earlier bath that had ended with a significantly shittier mood. 

 

“But yeah,” Celosia said, “Why not go to a pleasure spa, or pretend to be a maid, you know? As long as we’re still alive, we might as well play with it; cause problems on purpose.”

 

“Yeah,” Phoebe said, another decision of her mouth that confounded her brain. “I agree.” And then, “You don’t really talk like you’re fifteen hundred years old, you know.”

“What can I say,” Celosia replied, “I’m a timeless treasure.”

 

Phoebe giggled, and Celosia ruffled her hair, but soon afterward the girl’s expression became serious again. “I need to go talk to Jazz. Alone, I think,” she added very hesitantly, “and it’s not because of you, it’s just–”

“No, I agree. You’ve both heard enough from me; what you really need is to hear from each other, and it’s a conversation I think you’re both ready for. They’re in the observatory, right over there.” Celosia pointed towards the door on the opposite side of the circular seventh-story balcony. The observatory made up the other three-fourths of the seventh floor that the maintenance deck did not cover, so it didn’t really need pointing out.

 

Phoebe took Celosia’s giant hand and led her to the bench outside the observatory door. True to her word, Celosia sat down and threw her a supportive smile and two thumbs up. “I’ll be waiting right outside if you need anything at all.” 

 

It had gotten dark far faster than Phoebe had anticipated, and the night sky through the skylight behind Celosia was dominated by the presence of dusty-gray Folia proper. The vines from which the reclining room’s various pods were suspended all met up here in an artistic netting of bioluminescent vines and crimson flowers, and in the waning twilight they were just beginning to glow. 

 

It really hit her, in that moment; that she was standing in an alien resort, on a small moon lightyears from the Sol System; that just the other day she’d eaten lunch with sophonts from three different galaxies. Celosia had casually pulled out her tablet, and Phoebe had not turned around.

 

“Why are you doing this?”

 

Celosia looked up. “I’m sorry?”

 

“Why… Why are you helping us?” Phoebe asked, not entirely sure what she was trying to say, either. “Humanity, I mean?”

 

Something in Celosia’s expression changed. It wasn’t her usual brazen confidence, or that smirk she always used when she thought she’d figured you out. It was purely and entirely compassionate. There was a powerful love behind those gleaming ruby eyes that felt almost too large to fit inside of her already massive body.

 

“Why do you move stray worms from the pavement back to the grass?” Celosia smiled softly. “Because you deserve to be loved, petal. We all do; and every last one of us, when truly given the chance, will choose to love. You can go ahead and argue that life is meaningless, but if meaning is a concept invented by the living, then it is the living that assign it in everything we do.” 

 

Phoebe felt something brush against her ear- Celosia had snuck a vine behind her head, and slipped one of her own pink flowers into the girl’s hair.

 

“I may be afraid of death,” Celosia told her, “but I will never be afraid of fate. If fate has chosen to let you suffer, so be it; if we must live as if we have a choice, then let the Affini arrive, and let fate kneel to accommodate us. So long as we exist such meaningless suffering has no place in the reality we inhabit.”

 

“Make no mistake, little one: we are more than just the Affini. We are the Compact. That is what makes us proud; you are what makes us proud. We complete each other.”

 

“...I…”

 

A distant part of Phoebe screamed to stop talking- that she was going to give herself away- but whether that referred to the Mission or her fragile relationship with reality she couldn’t say. What did it matter anymore, anyway?

 

Phoebe whispered, “I want it to be true.”

 

When had she gotten so close to Celosia? When had her face become so wet; when had it become nestled in Celosia’s hand? Celosia’s thumb gently caressed her cheekbone and it was all too much.

 

“Then maybe, my blooming flower,” Celosia said, “it really is that simple.”

 

“I… I-I need to go talk to Jazz,” Phoebe sputtered, and she quickly stepped away and made for the observatory door.

 

“Dandelion?”

She turned back around. Celosia was still smiling at her, a smile Phoebe knew had been made just for her.

 

“You are an exceptionally kind girl. Please show that same kindness to yourself.”

Phoebe fled into the observatory before Celosia could hear her sob.