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Wet comes and goes as all seasons in the Colony usually do. It takes a bit of getting used to as the weather suddenly does a complete one-eighty and changes seemingly overnight, significantly slowing work and expeditions. But then everyone goes on with their standard routines in no time, as crops are harvested and seeds are replanted. The greenhouse and fields are adjusted for the coming months, as are the people.
Sol prepares something a little more comfortable for the last of the onslaught of rain, and sports a semi-see-through blue jacket that Marz gave them when they were sixteen, alongside a similarly colored clip-on hood. They’re surprised it still fits them after all this time.
Well, maybe the sleeves are getting a little short, but they refuse to admit that. The jacket brings them a familiar sense of comfort as they stand atop the watchtower with their arms draped over the wooden railing. It’s late; the rain hasn’t stopped all day and it looks like it’ll carry on well into the night. It’s difficult to make out much in this weather, if anything at all, but Sol always takes lookout duty very seriously and doesn't let that dishearten them. They pull on their sleeves a little bit, to tuck them further down their arms for warmth.
It’s not too bad, all things considered. At least there’s a roof over their head, and the flooring is made out of wood instead of cold metal like most of the other new architecture. They could probably sleep here, if they really had to, but as it stands Sol has no intention of abandoning their post anytime soon. They suddenly wish they could sleep as little as Tang does. That sure would come in handy right about now.
They have their eagle eyes though, so they can’t complain. Their genetic augment hadn’t really come in handy until they were old enough to start school, and even then it was mostly used to see the board better or spy on test answers from across the room. Little, trivial things that seem like they were lifetimes ago now. Only recently did they start taking their ability seriously, and actually utilising it for useful scenarios like they are right now.
They wouldn’t trade it for the world, because they’re the best lookout Rhett has; he told them so himself, but followed it with a cheeky smile and a request to keep it hush-hush. None of those Helio soldiers can beat them when it comes to this, even if a lot of them are bigger and stronger and superior in many other ways. They’re mostly just brawns with no brains, and Vace is a perfect example of that.
Maybe if they train hard enough and shovel enough dirt on the farm like their mother used to, they’ll be able to beat him in self-defence class one day. And then maybe they’ll be able to beat him for real, too. It’s not that absurd of an idea, Sol thinks smugly. Cal’s certainly built up a lot of muscle after working in Geoponics for so many years. They should take a few notes from him sometime.
A voice calls to them from down below, muffled by the pitter-patter of rain.
“Sol? Are you up there?”
Speaking of the devil.
Cal clambers up the ladder leading to the top of the wall at Sol’s slightly-confused response, and moments later his mop of green hair pokes out of the trapdoor. He’s soaked. He must’ve been out in the rain for a while, probably looking for them.
Sol quirks a brow, “Everything okay?”
For a dreadful moment, his urgency reminds them of the day their mother died. Someone nabbed them and their dad, and rushed them both to Geoponics before they could even register what was truly happening. That was years ago now, but Sol still remembers it like it was yesterday. Still thinks about it.
Cal only smiles, relieved, as he pulls himself the rest of the way up with a quiet grunt.
“I should be asking you that,” he says softly, “I thought I’d find you here.”
Sol falters for but a moment as they realise their hand had instinctively trailed down to the pendant tied around their neck. A large but surprisingly light unisaur horn, pearlescent and brilliant in colour. It’s an old gift from Dys that they’ve taken off so few times, that at this rate it feels like it’s become a part of them. Usually they keep it tucked under their many layers of clothes for safekeeping. Today is not the case. Cal looks at it pointedly.
Sol waves him off with their spare hand, leaning forward to rest against the railing again as a stubborn smile pulls at the corners of their lips. They scan the plains up ahead alertly, like a hawk, despite the evident dark circles forming under their eyes.
“I have a good feeling about today, Cal,” Sol tells him, beckoning him to come closer. He frowns unsurely, but complies wordlessly and lets them go on.
“I know he has a tendency to wander off on his own a lot, but Dys never misses this bit of the season. Glow is just around the corner, you know? It’s his favourite time of the year,” Sol explains hopefully, their eyes shimmering in the dim light. Only a few torches dotted around the towers and the blue moon of Vertumna provide them with any sort of illumination, but Sol doesn’t seem bothered by the dark, even if they usually complain about it. Cal still remembers how scared they used to get during the power cuts that’d happen on the ship when they were kids.
It seems like they’ve gotten over that fear now. Or they’re just doing a very good job at hiding it.
“Don’t tell anyone I said this,” Sol says mischievously, their voice dropping to a hush, as if they’re a gossiping teenager, “But we always take a day off around this time and camp outside the walls. It’s kinda like a tradition.”
Cal can’t pretend to be surprised. He thinks that he should be worried at this revelation, but it seems exactly like something the two of them would do. It’s no secret that Dys has been sneaking out of the Colony for years, so is it really any wonder that his partner has been doing the same thing with him? They were always glued at the hip as children.
Sol hums as they repeatedly lean from one leg to the other, lost in thought.
“The first time we did this, we were maybe… 9 or 10? It was way before the Helios came, when we still had the old Colony and old lady Eudicot leading the place. We used to sneak out through the drainpipe,” Sol laments, which makes Cal’s face distort in comical discomfort. Okay, maybe he’s a little bit worried.
“And you never got caught?” He asks.
“Nu-uh,” Sol grins proudly, “Not once.”
They double check to make sure that the coast is clear, before letting their eyes trail down to their necklace, running their fingers over its smooth, shell-like shape as their large beam turns into a solemn smile. It’s like they don’t want to peel their gaze away from the horizon for even a second, lest they miss anything.
“I guess we’re a bit big for that now - not that Dys has grown much - but we still find other ways to get past the soldiers. Sneaking past Uncle Tonin was way harder, anyway, so it’s never very difficult,” they admit with a quiet, amused huff. It almost sounds like they want to laugh, but don’t quite have the energy for it.
Cal narrows his eyes sadly. He’s not sure whether the sinking feeling in his chest forms from the exhausted sight of his friend, the mention of Dys, or the mention of Tonin.
“So I’m telling you,” Sol whispers so quietly Cal almost doesn’t hear them, “He wouldn’t miss this for the world. He’s gonna come home.”
Cal has to look away from Sol before his eyes start watering. The way they clench their necklace in their fist so tightly their fingers almost look like they’re shaking doesn’t go unnoticed. It's been weeks since Dys left the Colony on a team expedition and just… disappeared. They've all been dealing with it in their own ways, like they did when Tammy died, but it's not quite the same. Evidently, Sol hasn't so much as considered the possibility of giving up hope, even if they keep getting told to do so.
Cal takes a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth.
“You need a break, Sol,” he says once he manages to steady himself, curt and straight to the point, “Your dad’s worried about you.”
Sol pauses at that. They tuck the pendant under their shirt, close to their heart, and give it a little pat.
“Why?” They say with genuine confusion, striking him with that signature smile of theirs, “Tell him I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Sol shoves their hands in their pockets. They’re numb from the cold, but they won’t voice that out loud. Cal looks at the way the rain bounces off their coat as they lean closely to the edge, and figures that it must feel freezing after being out here for so long. It doesn’t affect him, but he knows the same can’t be said for Sol.
“Everyone’s worried about you,” he rephrases, looking down at them with genuine concern in his golden eyes, “You throw yourself headfirst into work and don’t care about what happens to you. Utopia doesn’t let you go out on scouting expeditions anymore, so you do this instead, and frankly it’s…”
Cal hesitates, lower lip wobbling as he struggles to word his thoughts. Sol remains silent, meeting his headstrong, concerned but still gentle gaze with a surprised expression of their own, like they’re unsure how to react. Seeing him like this makes them feel like they’re looking at a tall version of his childhood self. Cal’s always been a crybaby, ever since they could remember.
“It’s like seeing your mom,” he manages at last, “And it’s scary.”
It takes Sol a long time to recover from that remark. Their eyes go wide, and they hold their hands up to their chest like they’re about to nervously fiddle with their fingers, but they don’t even do that. They just stare at Cal - no, past Cal - unblinkingly, like a cornered animal stuck in headlights. They close their eyes momentarily, counting numbers under their breath, and exhale loudly before meeting his gaze once more.
“Don’t be silly,” Sol finally says, mouth quivering as they force themself to smile again, “I’m not… I’m taking care of myself. I know my own limits.”
And then they turn away without giving him a chance to reply, gazing out onto the rolling hills past the Colony walls. Cal stutters, not sure how to respond.
“It’s not Utopia’s fault that Lum doesn’t wanna send out search parties anymore,” Sol says, pulling up their holopalm so that they can absentmindedly scroll through their messages. At first Cal thinks they’re finally opening the many untouched notifications from their friends, but as he squints he realises that they’re repeatedly refreshing their chat with Dys. It doesn’t have any new messages from his end.
“I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t wanna argue with that asshole after he broke my hand either, even if I knew he was being irrational,” Sol shrugs, though their tone of voice remains light and unbothered despite their clear dislike for the guy, ”But it’s fine. I can handle myself, so I’ve got all the help I need right here.”
They turn their holopalm off, and gesture to themself with both thumbs. Cal furrows his eyebrows in unease.
“You’ve been going out to look for him on your own?” He mutters, hands falling to either side of him helplessly.
“What, like it’s hard?” Sol retorts, “I told you, we’ve been doing this since forever. Plus, I’ve got camping equipment, and a pocket knife for protection, some emergency alert traps, even a bit of food…”
They count the list on their fingers, eventually trailing off.
“But it’s not like I’ll ever actually need to use half of those things. The xenos out there are super peaceful if you don’t bother them, you know that. It’s—”
“Fine?” Cal interrupts, perhaps a little sterner than he would’ve liked, “Please don’t say it’s fine.”
Sol looks at him with a puzzled expression. This planet's xenos have always been the least of his concerns, but that doesn't make what Sol's doing any less dangerous. Cal would like to believe that they're just being difficult on purpose, but it seems like they’re genuinely stuck in denial. Looks like there's no choice but to spell it out for them.
“It’s not ‘we’ anymore, Sol. It’s just you out there,” he refutes, “You’re leaving the Colony all by yourself without telling anyone. What if one day you don’t come back either? We wouldn’t even know where to look for you. What would we do then?”
Instantly, Cal feels a pang of guilt at his uncharacteristically harsh tone of voice. He didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but it seems like no matter what he does or says Sol refuses to listen to him, or anyone for that matter. It’s difficult not to get frustrated, but it never comes from a place of anger towards his friend. He’s just worried.
Sol hesitates. Really hesitates. Eyes wide, like he’s finally gotten through to them, even if it’s just for just a moment.
“That’s… not gonna happen,” they insist defensively. They try to sound reassuring, but it doesn’t seem like they’re all that convinced themself.
“I can’t dwell on all the buts and ifs, Cal. I’ll drive myself insane if I only ever think about what could go wrong,” they mumble, shaking their head stubbornly, which makes them shiver slightly. Cal doesn't know if it's from the cold or just them wincing.
"And I can't just… sit around here and do nothing," they mutter sadly.
Call blinks at their response, more hurt than anything, "Is that what you think I'm doing?"
"'Course not," they clarify instantly, "I just can't trust the Helios to fix this. Lum says that it'll all work out because he got some soldiers to set up a few half-assed cams around the area. Like any of his bots ever worked before."
They grumble the last part, gesturing to the broken down security drone that's supposed to be doing their current job for them. Sol doubts that man can do much else than gloat about his own big ego, and if by some miracle he can, then his specialities certainly don't lie in engineering.
"He doesn't care about Dys. He doesn't care about this Colony," they say bitterly, thinking back on the time Dys tried to run away from home all those years ago. Lum found him, of course, but instead of realising that something was wrong he just got angry and punished him for acting out. Dys was on what could only be described as watered down house arrest for almost three months. Supposedly for his own safety, though Sol knows Lum was just making an example out of him.
"And I can't… let Dys become another Sorrel or Quinni," they go on, "Lum didn't even announce their deaths when they found their bodies."
Their words make Cal frown deeply. The only reason they ever found out about those soldiers' passing is because Utopia brought it up, not Lum. He doesn't want to imagine Dys meeting the same fate, forgotten and disregarded like some sort of nameless lackey. Can't imagine it.
After a long moment of silence, Sol brings their small hand to rest on top of Cal's. They give it a gentle squeeze, tense but affectionate, though they don't peel their gaze away from the many forests and cliffs and valleys before them.
"You understand, don't you?" Sol whispers. Their voice cracks, and Cal realises that the real reason they don't turn to look at him is because they don't want him to see them tearing up.
"I can't leave him. You'd do the same if you were in my shoes. If that was Tammy out there," they utter softly, their breath coming out in a puff of cool, cloudy smoke. Cal winces painfully.
"Don't bring Tammy into this," he pleads quietly. She's been gone for so long now, but the memory still hurts.
"But you would," Sol repeats faintly, voice barely a whisper, carried by the gentle wind, "You would."
They stand like that for a while. Cal doesn't really know what else to do other than offer Sol some comfort in the form of his presence. He doesn't let go of their hand as they both zone out, lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, he suggests walking them home, but Sol quite predictably refuses and tells him to go on without them, reassuring him that they'll catch up soon.
Yeah, right. They would stay here all night if they could.
"I'm gonna come back in a few hours," Cal compromises, looking at them seriously, "And then I'm taking you home, okay? No buts, no complaints, I don't wanna hear any of them."
His tone of voice leaves no room for argument. It almost feels like Sol is being scolded by a teacher.
"Okay, okay," they snirk, ushering him away and towards the trapdoor, "Just go already, you big softie. You don't need to babysit me."
Cal pauses right by the exit, letting out a gentle sigh, "I don't know about that."
He leaves, but not before wrapping Sol in a big hug and stuffing their pockets with a few leftover ration bars. Him constantly fussing over them really reminds Sol of their dad, they realise as they chew on one of the snacks hours later, smiling to themself. And then they scrunch up their face at the less-than-pleasant dry texture, almost like they forgot just how bad these things tasted after being able to eat fresh produce for so long. But hey, it’s the thought that counts.
The suns have begun to rise, which would crush the spirits of any other person, but not Sol. They've exhausted their snacks and exhausted themself, but they still refuse to leave. Light means they'll be able to spot things in the distance easier, and finally distinguish unmoving trees from human silhouettes. Their drowsy vision made that mistake quite a few times already, embarrassingly enough, as their lack of sleep finally caught up to them. Well, at least they don't have to stand all alone in the dark anymore.
When Cal comes back to the watchtower, he hopes to whatever celestial being who may or may not be out there, creepily listening to his thoughts, that he'll find it empty. He's never really been the religious type, but he'll make an exception just this once. It's morning when he climbs up the ladder, the last one of the season before the sky is engulfed in total darkness for the entirety of Glow. The rain has finally calmed a little; nothing more than a light drizzle now.
When he sees Sol hunched over in the same spot he left them hours ago, his heart sinks. He’s by their side immediately, shaking their shoulders in a light panic as images of their mother flash in his mind. Apparently she didn’t even make a noise when she went. Just silently fell to her knees and didn’t get back up again.
Sol grumbles an incomprehensible retort, head hanging low as Cal rattles them awake, which makes his breath hitch as he exhales in relief. He scoops them up under the armpits to help them walk, holding them up straight.
“Getting you home. Right now,” he tells them plainly, and Sol whines and shakes their head as they’re led away from the railing.
“No, no, I can stay,” they argue weakly, voice nothing more than a soft whimper. For a moment Cal considers picking them up and tossing them over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, if only they didn’t have the ladder to conquer.
“Nope. None of that,” he insists, “We’re leaving, c’mon. Up and over, let’s get you down from here.”
It takes a great amount of effort to coax Sol out of the watchtower and wrangle them home. When their dad greets them at the door, Cal feels his heart ache at his terrified expression. He can’t imagine what he must be feeling; his child didn’t come home all night, and now they can barely stand up on their own. He thanks Cal, sincerely, as he gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and reassures him that he’ll take it from here.
Cal lets them have their space. He considers sticking around for a bit just to make sure that Sol will be okay, but he knows that their dad is probably cooking up a real long peptalk to deliver to them right about now, so he makes himself sparse.
He spends the next few hours ploughing the fields and preparing the farm for the coming season. As second Chief Cultivator, he sure has a lot of work on his hands now that Wet is nearing its end. Even more so seeing as Geranium had to take the morning off to keep an eye on Sol. Cal promised him that he’d keep the fort down in his absence, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t beginning to feel a little bit tired. He’s relieved to see Sol’s dad when he finally makes an appearance hours later.
Lunchbreak comes, and Cal spends it like he usually does, by checking up on Socks and stuffing his face with a bobberfruit salad he prepared the night before. Geranium tells him to take five even after he comes back refreshed and ready to get his hands dirty again, probably because he feels bad for making him work double time whilst he was gone. Cal doesn’t argue, and uses the opportunity to make a pitstop at the Supply Depot, asking if he can get him anything whilst he’s there. Geranium humbly requests a slice of cake.
It’s sometime in the afternoon, when the suns are at their highest, when Cal steps out of the Command Centre building and lingers around the exit. He makes light conversation with Marz as the two of them sit on the steps, catching her up on what happened with Sol. She keeps her usually adamant, boisterous voice hushed, lest she gets caught slacking off by Seeq. Cal only chuckles at her antics and offers her a bit of cake. He comments that he doesn’t want to keep her away from her duties, but makes no effort to actually leave.
Marz lightly smacks his gloved hand away when he goes to pass her a slice, "Get your dirty paws— I've got it, thank you."
She picks the most symmetrical piece out of the bunch, because of course she does. Cal snickers as he half-heartedly wipes his hand on his dungarees.
"It won’t kill you. Some type of Vertumna earth is actually edible, did you know?” He hums. Marz grimaces in disgust when he eats his slice without getting all the muck off his fingers.
She scrunches up her nose, “I’m not eating dirt.”
“It’s good for you! Plenty of minerals, does wonders for your immune system!” Cal says enthusiastically. Marz only shakes her head and brushes her long hair off her shoulder, making the many colourful beads of her braids jingle against one another.
“Obviously you have to prepare it first, unless you wanna eat little bits of rocks and worms,” Cal smiles, purposely mentioning the last part just to make Marz squirm again, “But it makes for some really tasty pastries.”
“You’re making mud pies now?” She huffs sarcastically, though she can’t help the amused smile that lights up her pretty face, “What are you, twelve?”
Cal closes his eyes when he laughs, “Not mud pies! Cookies!”
Perhaps it’s inevitable that Seeq would walk in on them sooner or later, and when they do, they’re absolutely appalled. Cal tries to bribe them with a bit of cake, but it doesn’t work and he only ends up getting his ear chewed off with their incessant nagging as they lead Marz back inside. She excuses herself, looking utterly fed up, and Cal tries his best to keep his giggling to a minimum.
He puts a lid on the lunchbox he snagged from the kitchen just to make sure he can deliver the rest of the cake to Geranium without any accidents, and stretches when he gets up to his feet. It’s then that something catches his attention, in the corner of his eye. A lone figure standing on top of the wall overlooking the Colony gate, lithe and small in size. He recognises their blue hair instantly.
Marz and Cal share a concerned look when Seeq goes on ahead, making her pause half-way down the corridor. She tells him not to worry and to get back to his work; it’s her turn to talk some sense into Sol, so if they’re still up there by the time she’s done with her shift, she’ll go see them immediately.
Deep in his gut, Cal has a feeling that they definitely will be.