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Tip tap. The ambient sound of small feet shuffling against metal floors, shyness in each indecisive hushed step. An implicit uneasiness in every stride; eensy claws clicking, clumsy heels tapping. A faint clack when the two gold bands that bedazzled each ankle briefly met, accompanied by a weary wince of crimson eyes.
Thunk thunk thwap. The taller of the pair stomped and slid, bungling her way through the “choreography” of a song she had watched on grandfather’s VCR a hundred times over. A tune the girl swears she could perform from memory, one she’d endlessly hum, and the ebony hedgehog she pulled haphazardly along would never believe otherwise. Even in spite of the several stumbles, squashed toes, and slips; even when they constantly crushed and crinkled documents, and crashed into one another until they were left panting and beaten.
He would never believe otherwise.
Maria strung him through the observatory, every inch of the room littered in the memory of their uncoordinated steps. A new sensation of excitement rode up his spine, putting a tingle in his paws and a shake to his tail. At the end of each bout, she’d proclaim: “We’ve gotten better again! Haven’t we, Shadow?”
Shadow, disconcerted, would kindly nod. He wondered if she had forgotten about the three times they fell, or the gadgets they had displaced in one of those falls…or the large bruise forming on her calf. Shadow swore he would treat that later, regardless of protest.
Their awkward ceremony of trotting around was what she dubbed “dancing”. They’d entangle themselves finger-through-finger, sometimes chest-to-chest, gliding across familiar floors; but this union was unsynchronized, unabashedly seeking an unknown. A united search for a thrill they had only imagined the feeling of, one they had sondered from a quaint tv and aged photographs. A yearning pirouette for replication, sputtering out into realization:
Their reality would never match up to what they dreamed.
One wanted to stop.
One wanted to continue.
The duo ushered on, one unceremoniously dragged for the umpteenth time through that stiflingly empty space, the other passionately strumming to their own beat, without repose. At the end of each dance, she’d exclaim: “It’s still not quite like what we dreamed. Isn’t it, Shadow?”
Shadow, discontent, would involuntarily nod. He wondered if she had forgotten the string of naive curses when they bumped knees, or the thousands of dirtied marks on the once polished floor…or the callouses on her worn feet and emerald beneath her chipped lazuli nails. Shadow swore to never protest, regardless of grievance.
He would never tell her otherwise.
Shadow strung her through the observatory, every inch of the room consumed by their hungry synchronized steps. A foreign sensation of starvation plagued his gut: he sought a fullness with his whole being that stung in each of his fingers and pricked his lungs. He swore he could perform it perfectly this time for her. He is so close. He can taste it. He knows she tastes it too.
A large pace to the left, a twirling of his partner, followed by a dip-
Thunk.
Rubies dulled in the presence of speckled and shimmering sapphires belonging to who he treasured most. They were blurred by something unusual, and then hidden by bandaged hands. A few minutes passed and Maria pulled her palms from her face, staring down at the viridescent blood caked to the tips of her trembling digits.
“You should’ve stopped me sooner,” the little girl rasped in horror.
“But it made you smile,” he confessed in adoration.
Maria shook her head, stumbling up from her seat on Shadow’s belly. Her legs were bruised again. She's shaking again. Shadow’s gaze had never left her reddened face, finally recognizing that she was “crying”. He didn’t understand again. Maria took one last look at the wounds on her brother’s paws, that sickening green nestled into every wrinkle.
“Shadow, nothing is worth blood.”
It rang faultlessly, an indisputable statement, even for these two curious and sheltered children. In spite of this, a rebuttal had already formed at his lips. Somehow, this he couldn’t believe.
“For you, blood is nothing...”
Maria only stared at him in reply, that glimmer in her eye had been replaced with tempered trepidation. Those words reminded her once more of what her brother was born of. What he is capable of. She rubbed the dried blood between her fingers, quivering at the realization of what she is capable of too.
She had unwittingly taught him something terrific.
An idea that should be beyond both their years.
Maria began to walk quieter than one would fathom of the usually upbeat girl, back to the side of her best friend. She knelt down, wrapping her stained, rough hands around him, in silent grief. He had missed her mournful expression, gingerly returning the embrace.
Shadow had no reason to question this act. He did not wish to question her again.
After all, the alien believed in her humanity.