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The First Lady

Summary:

Jemma's kidnapping - from the rock's point of view?

Notes:

The second fic in my Amazing Story Generator, Fic-A-Day challenge for June. If you want to, you can send me a prompt of three numbers between 1 and 60.

Numbers: 7, 15, 25
Prompt: After a bitter custody battle, the First Lady is tormented by vengeful spirits.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The noisy bags were back again, but there were only two of them this time.

The First Lady watched them, trying to figure them out. As far as she could tell, they didn't alter their shape at all - not even when they were moving. It was so bizarre. Much like their soft exteriors and strangely thin and porous cores (what kind of species used calcium as their central support?), their method of locomotion was, well, alien.

And were the outer shells necessary for some unknown function? They seemed to change them with diurnal frequency. 

Perhaps it was connected to some sort of ritual?

Were their colourings significant in some way? Or perhaps their size? There was no discernible social structure that she could conclude from the few interactions she'd witnessed. She needed more data.

One of the noisy bags propelled itself from the area. 

The First Lady would just have to take a sample.

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The noisy bags refused to leave the First Lady to study her sample in peace. They constantly bombarded her painful vibrations and harmful radiation. She was spending so much time defending herself from their incessant probing that she wasn't able to learn anything from the one she had taken.

She was learning about their social structure, however. Apparently, the one she had taken was a central figure in their grouping. Why else would they be assailing her with such tireless ferocity? She must have inadvertently taken their leader.

The First Lady didn't feel things, as such, but there were thoughts that were similar to regrets percolating through her mind. Perhaps she should have waited longer before taking one of them? If only they were capable of communication, she would inform them of her research and reassure them that the sample would not be harmed. 

But unfortunately, they had not yet developed a system for making themselves understood. Perhaps they had a hive mind? Perhaps they were all part of one larger organism? If only they would leave her alone, she could discover so much about them!

-------------------------

The First Lady was starting to recognize differences among the bags. The large brown one and the less-large-but-still-bigger-than-the-others yellow one had been easy to pick out from her early days there, but the pink ones had seemed completely interchangeable at first. Except for the one who never seemed to change his external coverings.

Were they coverings? Or perhaps an outer layer of skin that was shed on a regular basis? Were they necessary for mating? So many questions still!

But one of the pink ones was nearby more often than the others. And it seemed to be the one most responsible for The First Lady's discomfort. Perhaps she should have taken that one instead? Without that bag, would the other bags be able to hurt her like that?

She was coming to the conclusion that further observation before taking a sample would have been advisable.

Perhaps if she gave the sample back, they would cease this torment? Allow her some rest?

-------------------------

When the bags had finally left her alone once more, she replaced her sample from where she had taken it.

She hadn't harmed it at all beyond a few standard tests, and she doubted they would notice any difference at all.

The First Lady sat quietly and began her observations. The next time she took a sample, she would be better prepared.

 

Notes:

I don't even know, you guys. It just sorta happened. I'm sorry.

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