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In the past three years, Gregor could count on one hand the number of times that he stopped to notice that his island was beautiful.
It was, of course. Some objective part of the back of his mind knew it. In some cupboard at the back of his consciousness where he kept the civil parts of his being. Like some old china that was kept out of the way, too good to ever be used. The bits of himself that remembered how to talk and laugh, crack a joke or perform a slight-of-hand trick with cards.
That part of him knew that the island was beautiful.
Once, very early on. It was a kind of dismissive, appreciative thing. He sat on the top of the wreckage of his crashed fighter ship. He chewed on a tasteless synthcube, appraising the lush jungle, scrubbing some sweat from the back of his neck.
A bit warm and muggy. But all things considered, not a bad place to crash.
Several weeks later, Gregor managed to somehow snag a large leggy insect with a thick thorax. He only saw them a handful of times, he still wasn’t sure where they came from. But he had managed to crush the place where he thought it's head was with a rock. It thrashed and pinched at him, lancing him hard down the shoulder.
But that night he got to enjoy one of the lucky few evenings where he could slack the clawing, ever-present gnaw of hunger since he ran out of synthcubes.
He picked through the stringy meat out of the severed legs, watching the stars come out at night.
And he noticed the island was beautiful.
A few hundred days after he stopped counting, Gregor had been ravaged by a terrible fever. It tore into him for days, leaving him dehydrated and delirious. He had been positive it would be the end of him. But somehow, he made it through the night. He crawled out of his dank little cave, watching the sun rise as if it was the first time the sun had ever come up in a new world.
The final time was a relatively uneventful morning. Gregor was checking his usual array of traps set up across the most familiar trails. He rounded the curve of the mountain, blinking down across the curve of the bay.
What had previously been an uninterrupted stretch of jungle (he could have sworn it had been, just the other day). Now featured an impossibly smooth and elegant white structure - all soft curves and glass - overlooking the water.
Some quadrillionare had shown up and built what looked to be a trillion-dollar resort on the island… seemingly overnight.
Well, that makes sense . Gregor thought. That someone might want to build a house here. After all… the Island is beautiful.
-
Gregor sat there longer than he had planned to, struck with a sort of numbness.
He should be happy - thrilled . After years of beating back illness, starvation and crushing crippling loneliness - he was finally saved.
Was he though?
He felt oddly fixed in place. Long enough that he sat cross-legged on the damp jungle ground. He took the coil of fibres from their hook on his belt, resuming the mindless task of threading them together to make rope. It was something he did with his hands whenever they were free, and it helped him quiet the noise in his mind and think.
Gregor watched it warily, perhaps in expectation that the mirage might fade from view and disappear. It was a far simpler solution to accept - that there was no miraculous rescue. He had finally just cracked and lost his mind.
There had been dozens of instances in the past where he sat up suddenly alert thinking he had heard a plane fly by overhead, or that heard someone calling to him through the brush.
But no matter how long he watched, the strange, opulent structure sat stubbornly intransient. Delicate fronds from decorative trees wafted in the morning breeze. The clear turquoise-bright water from the pool glinting and sparkling merrily in the early light.
For a wild moment, Gregor considered leaving it be. Shirking back into the jungle and resigning himself to the life of some miserable wild creature.
But, no. He had to go down there, didn't he? They could help him.
Or they might kill him.
They could have food.
That last notion finally convinced his feet to start moving down the slope, carefully and cautiously picking his way down.
The manor was built into the side of the cliff. The deck that swept out over the bay was built high on graceful columns, with a glass wall around the perimeter that kept the stellar view intact.
Gregor scaled a nearby tree that was growing up alongside the outstretched deck. He took a moment to appreciate how minimally the landscape had been changed to accommodate the structure. The rock face seemed to be barely changed. Trees growing beneath the deck had been somehow molded and coaxed to grow up beneath it, almost supporting it.
It was an entirely foreign type of architecture to what he was familiar with. The old deep-space mining rig that Gregor grew up in had been a place of hard angles and rusted edges. Comparatively, the ships that the OCNI boasted looked positively luxurious.
And even those were nothing like this.
Closer now, Gregor had a better view of the strange building.
The deck was smooth porcelain-like tile. A few round, squashy armchairs were situated around the oblong swimming pool. Various potted plants were situated artfully about. They were long and leafy, and would cast some lovely shade as the sun climbed higher.
The beginnings of a crawling trellis plant at the corner of some columns supporting the roof were the only indication at all that this structure was new - with not enough time elapsed for it to finish growing in. When it did, it would likely hang thick like a canopy over the place.
Large glass windows flanked the southern side, taking full advantage of the view of the sea - though it was too bright outside for him to be able to see the interior. Perhaps if he came back at night.
It was too dangerous right now, someone could be watching him…
“Bzzt bzzt!”
Gregor was vaguely aware of the strange sounds, but was more focused for the moment on scanning the horizon.
“ Mrrp!”
“Psspsspss!”
“Hey! Hey you!”
Gregor swung his head around in sudden alarm. The noise was the same in inflection and tone, but the last intonation had been unmistakably human speech .
Or had he finally lost his mind?
He found himself gaping down at the extremely intent stare of - of all things - a rinan .
The last he had heard of those things, terra was in the process of turning their home planet into a pile of molten slag.
But this one was bright-eyed and bushy tailed. It’s little paws on the wall of the deck, nose twitching excitedly. Next to it was… something else. Vaguely humanoid and distinctly fuzzy, with large dewy insectoid eyes.
When Gregor turned to face them, both became immediately animated.
“ Hey!”
“Hey terran!”
“C’mere! Hey!”
Gregor gaped at them, staying fixed in place in the branch of his tree.
He had seen one or two rinans before. This one didn't look anything like them. Perhaps it was the fluffy white fur, brushed pristine and silky. Or the pink ribbons set at the base of its ears. Really though, it was likely just an absence of fear. Both of little fluffy muppety things were watching him with a fervent glee that was downright disarming.
Gregor climbed a little higher up in the tree, getting ready to bolt. The two were making a racket and he needed to learn more about the people who lived here…
“ Hey hey! No, don't run!”
“You want food?”
“We have food!”
Gregor stilled, glancing back at them.
“We've got-” The two paused. They switched into a trilling, squeaking sort of language to one another in commiseration.
“ Apples!”
“Meat!”
“ Bird meat!”
Gregor watched in a strange, fixated sort of captivation as the rinan and the bee-thing scrambled. The bee darted back, grabbing a wicker bowl that had been sitting on between two lounge chairs. It was packed full of an assortment of plump, juicy fruit. Gregor’s skin crawled as it had the audacity to let a few precious grapes spill out and bounce away as if he were lugging rocks around.
The two picked through it, selecting a large yellow apple and setting it precariously on the edge of the wall.
Then, they darted back (taking the fruit bowl with them, Gregor noted with irritation) and half-hid behind one of the chairs, watching him fervent, delighted expectation.
Gregor hovered in uncertainty for a moment.
This was… not how he was expecting the morning to go.
But… fuck , was that really an apple? Not even a sour apple synthcube.
One of those back in the OCNI would have cost him half a month’s wages.
Gregor glanced up and down the deck belatedly, weighing his options.
For all he knew, there were guards for this place stationed in hiding, ready to hit him with a sniper rifle as soon as he dared to trespass.
Though he knew he ought to play it safe, his hunger wore out.
Gregor swung himself forward, jumping the short distance to the wall of the balcony and hauled himself over with sinewy muscles. In a flash, he snatched the apple up and sunk his teeth deep into the crisp skin.
Gregor moaned through his nose as the fresh sweet tartness exploded across his tongue. He tore into it, a feral savagery seizing control and dictating the moment. Several bites in, he looked up at the creatures, curiously now.
Say something to them .
What, though?
This would have been a weird enough situation for someone who hadn’t spent the last twelve-hundred-and-something days slowly having all of his social skills erode into nothingness.
Gregor took another massive bite of the apple, crunching through the core.
He needed to retreat, take stock of the situation from someplace where he was more hidden, someplace more safe. Gregor was halfway through turning to go, when he noticed something at the corner of his field of vision.
From behind the chaise lounger, a mango rolled out across the deck.
It stopped a few inches from where Gregor was crouched on the wall.
The two little creatures watching him with rapt focus and attention.
He assessed the two with a new dubious curiosity as he crawled forward, snatching the fruit up.
Were you supposed to eat the skin of a mango or peel it?
The thought flicked through Gregor’s mind for half a second before it was promptly discarded and he tore into that fruit as well. After four manic gulping bites, he glanced up to appraise the two strange creatures.
“Um, hey.” Gregor finally managed to grunt out. His voice was rougher than he remembered, and it made him grimace to hear it. Still, he soldiered on. “It’s… okay. I'm not going to, you know. Hurt you guys, or anything.”
He realized at once how wrong he was to suppose that the two creatures might have been afraid of him. At the reassurance, they shrieked and cooed with delight in a way that made Gregor's cheeks redden with embarrassment.
“Ooh, are you a good girl?”
“Do you wanna be friends?”
Gregor frowned.
Did they call him a girl?
Was that right, or did he imagine it?
Gregor looked around curiously, gnawing at the stony pit of the mango.
“Um. People? Are there people here?”
“We are people!” The bee thing answered happily, looking elated that Gregor had come closer. It braced its three-fingered hands up on the lounger, wings buzzing in excitement. “Do you want to be friends, terran?”
“I mean, are there other humans here?” Gregor said tersely. “You know. From Terra? Like me.”
“Oh. Yes of course!”
“Hm, I think Dinah is?”
“Yeah. Is Dinah from Terra?”
“Mistress Whitegrove isn't though.”
“No, of course not. She’s Affini.”
“Whitegrove, huh?” Gregor didn’t know much about where Affini was. Maybe one of those fancy private settled planets that the ultra rich kept off the maps. Hell, that was probably what her plans were for this place.
He wiped a bead of sticky juice off the corner of his mouth. It had matted into his beard as well. Just as he was thinking that this would be a conversation more safely had from his tree, an orange was rolled across the deck to him.
“Who is she? She own this place?” Gregor asked, picking up the fruit.
“We're her pets!” The rinan squeaked happily.
“Her, what?” Gregor balked. His finger slipped on the orange rind, causing him to nearly tear the fruit in half.
He had heard that the rinans were getting a poor deal in the Accord. He didn't think it'd go so far that some rich asshole would think they could keep one like it was a dog or something. Things that could talk and think for themselves.
His stomach churned in a fresh wave of fear.
“You're her pets?”
“Yes, Mistress Whitegrove is wonderful!”
Gregor looked at them dubiously, finally noticing that both (under all the fuzz and fluff) were wearing collars around their necks. The rinan’s was pink - matching her ear ribbons. The bee had one that was matching in style but done up in white.
“I have to go.” He stuffed the orange into a woven satchel at his waist as he turned for the fence.
“No!”
“No, don’t go terran!”
“We want to help you!”
A few more fruits were chucked at him in desperation. Gregor grabbed one or two as he went, but otherwise didn’t stall as he lifted himself up onto the wall and made the jump onto the climbing tree.
“You’re not supposed to live in the jungle! I don’t - I don’t think?”
“Didn’t terrans used to live in jungles?”
“No, they lived in big things called offices .”
“There aren’t any offices here!” The bee bolted after him, though neither seemed keen on jumping out over the wall.
“You should stay with us! We just wanna help you!”
Gregor turned in the tree, steadying his grip and his hold there as he looked sternly at the bee, then the rinan.
“What do you mean, they lived ?”
Both of the pets balked, glancing at one another.
“Well-”
There was a rustle of leaves, and Gregor was gone.
-
Gregor wallowed in frustration and indecision in his cave that night.
He picked at the seeds of the papaya he had snagged in the getaway, eating each one individually in a bid to make the food last that much longer - and weighed his options.
On the one hand, he probably couldn’t avoid his new neighbors. They weren’t here scouting the island, they weren’t planning on leaving. They had already come in and decorated . Those weird pets probably already told Whitegrove all about him.
Was she someone he could trust?
He didn’t know much about the bee, or what humanity’s relationship to that specific species was. Something they had discovered in the last three years, perhaps?
But he knew about rinans. The ones he had seen had always looked… scrappy. More wild animal than sentient creature. But this one looked… doted on .
Whitegrove must not be unkind.
And she’s being kept as a pet .
So she’s also probably out of her mind.
Gregor sighed, shuffling a bit where he sat. It wasn’t a cold night but it was rather cool. All the same, he held off from lighting a fire. Part of him still thought it was silly - hiding from his fellow terrans after all this time.
Had it been a group of traders or miners - someone in his caste of society - his disposition would have been radically different. Gregor likely would have run out cheering and crying. He had imagined the day enough times in his mind.
But Whitegrove… someone like this,
This type of person - these quadrillionares that ruled the accord - were so unfamiliar to him,
She might as well be an entirely different species altogether.
How would she react if she was faced with someone who wasn’t some kind of living plush-toy? Someone who was tall and lanky and wild. Who had a chipped canine tooth and cracked fingernails and lost any place at all in general society.
Gregor groaned softly, taking a bite of the fruit and forcing himself to chew slowly.
He wasn’t too sure of his reflection these days, but he probably looked like a monster. He was just as likely to get shot on sight as anything else.
Though her pets didn’t seem to mind him.
Maybe if he got another chance to talk to them, they could… put in a good word for him. Or something. Whitegrove must have staff. People who supplied the island resort and helped run the place.
Maybe he could talk to one of them. Let them know that he was just a guy who needed some help.
Maybe he could get a bit more food off of them, while he was at it.
-
Gregor approached the bay area with care the next day.
The day was hot and heavy and muggy. It made his progress slow, even after leaving early to avoid the worst of the heat.
It would be easier to approach from the beach. Instead, he chose the mountain path. A far more arduous climb, but by far more advantageous in keeping him concealed.
He rounded the side of the mountain that laid out the manor far below him.
Sure enough, there was a human woman there today.
Waiting?
No, surely not. Hopefully not.
Gregor was still too far away to be able to know for sure.
But she certainly looked the part of some quadrillionaire heiress.
The woman was wearing a pristine white sundress that trailed and fluttered behind her in the morning light. Her legs were smooth and tan. Her skin was bright and unblemished. And a certain… lightness - to her being, one that only came from a life free of any sort of stress or strife.
She was leaning on the wall of the deck, taking in the view. Scanning the horizon?
It was hard to tell. Her face was concealed by a large white sun hat that obscured most of the profile of her face.
Gregor watched her for a long while, stewing in his own misery and longing and deep envy.
But he learned long ago that there was little in his life less productive than self-loathing and stewing over the lot in life he was given. Such was doubly true here, where every hour needed to be spent in keeping his head above water and his person a step ahead of dehydration, starvation and a dozen other perils.
He turned and left, taking a long route around the manor. He didn’t dare to draw in too close, but kept an eye out for any other signs of life - other ships or members of her entourage that might look a bit more approachable.
As the day wore on, he didn’t find anything. Though truth be told, he wasn’t too certain what he was meant to be looking for. The strange resort had appeared overnight - there being no other people here made about as much sense as anything else. By mid afternoon, Gregor resigned to let his cowardice get the best of him that day, and spent the remainder of the hours checking his water filters, scant array of snares and hunting about for bugs or other such things.
One thing that seemed to have had an impact on the island… the magnolia flowers were blooming early. They were crisp, floral and gingery. They gave him an awful stomach ache when he ate too many, but it felt slightly less worse than an empty stomach. In fact, this season’s blooms had a certain sweetness to them he never detected before.
He braided rope, repaired tools and clothing as best he could. He told himself half-remembered stories from his childhood and tried to invent happier endings.
He stayed away from the open beaches, even if he had traps to check in the shallows there.
It didn’t feel safe today.
Even after leaving the mysterious Whitegrove behind in the bay. He couldn’t help but feel… watched.
-
The next day that Gregor visited the manor, he left earlier still - leaving his cave just as the sun was rising. The manor looked a bit different now, as he dared to stray in close again. The trellis that had been scarcely growing the other day was much fuller now, sporting more of the leafy white magnolia flowers.
The same vine seemed to be growing prolifically there - extending out under the deck and wrapping itself around some of the sculpted trees. As Gregor scaled the same tree from before, he noticed that it almost seemed to take on the form of twisted latticework, connecting the trees to the structure.
Gregor wasn't sure how they were doing it, but it seemed like a serious security oversight. Before, he had needed to make a leap onto the deck clearing a twenty-foot drop. Now, he could practically climb up as easily as if a ladder had been laid out beneath his feet.
He climbed up, careful to keep himself hidden on the far side of the trunk of the tree as he scanned the area.
The woman was gone, and the pets were back.
The rinan and the bee were splashing about in the pool, each presumably trying to crawl on top of a large inflatable flower while knocking the other off into the water.
The two were so distracted, he probably could have strolled right up onto the deck without being noticed.
There was more food out today, as well.
Not just fruit, but also a tray of fresh rolls and pastries.
There were delicate slices of meat arranged prettily on a chilled plate, with a glass cloche to keep off the little flying insects that plagued the island.
Gregor was contemplating if he might have been better off just seeing what he could steal when the splashing suddenly stopped.
“Ooh!”
“Heeyyy!”
“Hey terran! Hey!”
“C’mere! C’mere girl!”
“Can you two keep it down?” Gregor said, trying not to snarl as he spoke. If he had been worried at finally managing to startle them, he needn’t have bothered. They were besotted as ever, scrambling for the edge of the pool, trying to keep themselves small and contain their glee in case it might drive him off again.
“Is your owner - Whitegrove, is she around? Any people?”
“Um,”
“Do you want us to go get her?”
“No!”
“Oh, okay we won't.”
“Yeah, we won't. Just don't run away again, okay?”
“I'm not going to promise that.” Gregor glanced around again, checking the coast was clear before half jumping, half scrambling over the mangrove vine up to the deck.
“Why, not?” The bee pouted. The two remained in the pool, clinging to the sides of the wall and shuffling about in unison to keep astride with Gregor as he cautiously picked his way around the area.
“It's nice here!”
“Yeah and you're all skinny and gross.”
“I don't-” Gregor rankled, looking down at the pets. He sighed. “Yeah, I am. But your owner probably doesn't want a skinny, gross jungle man in her house. Uh, shit.” He rubbed the back of his neck, anxiety clawing at him.
“This was a mistake. I should-”
“Aw, but we put the food out just for you!”
Gregor startled, looking around in alarm as another voice spoke up behind him.
This was another… thing.
Scarcely more than a head larger than the bee and the rinan, something fluffy- no, leafy? Was bouncing over to them. It appeared to be moving on all fours, but it was difficult to tell under a thick, shaggy layer of foliage that covered its body. It had rounded, tufted ears. Between them, two long fluffy antennae. Around the neck was a cowl of magnolia petals. The eyes had a strange appearance of battered metal that caught the sun and glinted in fractal patterns of curious light.
“It’s just going to get thrown out if you don’t help yourself. None of us eat meat at all.” The plant thing hopped lightly up onto one of the egg-shaped reclining chairs, revealing something that looked like large, wide paws as it moved.
“What the,” Gregor took a few steps back. “How many pets does Whitegrove have?”
“Just three right now.” Plant-thing said, its battered-metal eyes squinted in a picture of contentment.
Gregor’s back was to the fence, weighing his options. Plant-thing had curled up like a cat, paying him little mind as it curled up on its back, seemingly enjoying the sunshine.
Bee and rinan were still watching him with rapt attention from the pool.
His stomach was curling over itself angrily.
“... Are you sure it’s alright?” Gregor asked Bee (who he seemed to arbitrarily decide was In Charge) with a belated air.
Both of the pets nodded furiously. Plant-thing yawned.
Gregor picked a spot between the pool and the lounge chair that Plant-thing was dozing in. The bulk of the large chair blocked the view of him from the interior windows, in case anyone outside might steal a glance out to the patio. It gave him cover to steal the plate of cured meats and bread to the floor and eat more readily. He tore into the crisp crust of the sourdough bread, groaning in delight at the soft buttery texture.
A tear nearly welled up in the corners of his eyes.
He had forgotten bread was supposed to be soft.
Bee and Rinan picked their way slowly out of the pool, moving cautiously as if they might scare him away again.
Gregor sighed through his nose. They were too small and cute-looking. Though they clearly weren’t worried he might hurt them, he still felt a strange need to put their minds at ease.
“So, uh. What was your plan if I didn’t show up?” Gregor asked, shoving some salami into his mouth. “Wouldn’t your, uh, owner get mad at you for wasting food like this?”
Before he was a Mercenary, or even a deep-space mining technician - back when Gregor lived on the farm where food was available most of the time - that kind of waste would have gotten his hide tanned.
“Oh no, she doesn’t care about that.”
Rinan was toweling herself off with a fluffy white towel that looked sinfully soft.
“I guess that makes sense.” Gregor huffed a laugh as he continued to eat. “She probably has more food than she knows what to do with.”
“Yeah.” Bee was lying on its stomach, propped up on its elbows. “It’s nice here!”
“You keep saying.” Gregor huffed a laugh. “Hey, do you have names?”
“My name is Chappi.”
“And I’m Melita !”
“You can call me Maggy.” Plant-thing stretched out lazily, curling up and re-adjusting where she sat on the lounger. “So,” her tufted tail brushed up against and tickled against the side of Gregor's face. “What are you doing here, petal? You're far from Terra.”
Gregor grunted around his food, waving the tail off.
“I, uh,” He sighed, swallowing heavily. Right, he was supposed to close his mouth when he chewed. “I was running some flight drills with my squad. We ran into a territorial skirmish from the OmaMercs from Agritek.” Gregor sighed sharply out his nose. “We weren’t even supposed to be in their territory.” He told himself that enough times grumpily, lying awake at night bitten to hell by fleas and itching with sunstroke.
“And you've been here all alone ever since?”
“Uh, yeah. It's been. Um. I'm still alive. So. That's good.” Gregor stared out into the middle distance as he spoke.
This felt weird, like he was crawling out of his skin.
We're these things even talking to him? Was he babbling incoherently to a bunch of rocks and fronds again?
Worse still, would he prefer the delusion over the reality if that truly was the case? A low whine rose up in the back of his throat as the itching feeling spread out from his spine, up and down his arms.
Before he could start scratching again however, Maggy yawned and stretched, arching her back wide. She stood, and lightly dropped herself down into Gregor’s lap.
At once, he was struck and grounded by how heavy she was - far denser than she appeared for something that moved so lightly. Her body was soft and warm, a soothing heat emanating out from somewhere deep in her chest.
Gregor’s fingers sunk reflexively into the foliage of her body. The flower petals were soft like silk, studier than the flowers of a tree.
Maggy had started to purr.
The sound was rich and deep, thrumming right down to Gregor’s bones, smoothing out his nerves.
A soft-padded paw touched him on the cheek.
It was the first time anyone had touched him kindly in the last four years.
“ Good girl. ”
Something damp hit the back of Gregor’s hand.
His cheeks were wet.
He was crying.
Gregor’s next breath was a sobbing gasp as he doubled over, hugging Maggy tightly.
“S-sorry I - ah. I'm sorry I just, I don't know what's wrong with me-”
He continued to apologize and babble. Maggy shifted forward, nuzzling his scruffy cheek as she placed her paws on either of Gregor’s shoulders, allowing herself to be pulled into a snugger embrace. Her deep purring was flush against his chest, resonating down into his bones.
Gregor hugged her tight, as if he was suddenly starving for it - more ravenously than he was for fruit or bread.
Fuck, this thing was good. Whatever it was.
Probably some billion-credit, state-of-the-art-art fancy bred pet species and here Gregor was manhandling it.
This wasn’t what he came here to do.
He needed to bargain for his life with an insane pet collector.
Not stuff his face and collapse into a blubbering mess on the floor.
“Ugh, I messed this all up.” Gregor scrubbed his eyes, trying to detangle himself from Maggy. She had gotten strangely clingy, crawling vines from her body were in the process of looping themselves around his shoulders and chest. “I gotta go, I can’t stay here.”
“Do you have someplace better to be?” Maggy seemed to be in no rush to help him as he continued to scramble to kick himself free of her vines. She tilted her head, looking down at Gregor curiously. Two more eyes had opened up, slightly smaller above the first.
“Of course not. But, look. It’s dangerous for me to be here.” He looked over at the rinan - Melita - beseechingly. “You know how terrans can be. To… others.”
Melita frowned, tucking up her paws.
“I - ugh, I’m happy for you lot. Really. But. I’m not like you.”
Gregor finally managed to free himself of the ropey vines - only for a moment however. The dense, incredible weight of Maggy heaved back onto him like a blanket. Her paws were up around his shoulders again.
“Alright, petal. You're nervous about meeting the mistress of this place. That's okay.” A large paw braced the side of his cheek, drawing him in as a flat, damp tongue ran up his neck like a large feline might groom an anxious kitten.
“What would make you feel more comfortable to do so, hm?”
“I, uh…” Gregor's head spun, unsure what to make of the relentless affection. For lack of anything better to do, his arms had gone around her again, supporting her back and rear as she groomed his cheek and neck. “I suppose I'm worried about how I must look to other people right now…”
“Yeah you smell real bad.” Chappi agreed, kicking their feet a bit.
“Well, that's easy to fix.” Maggy said, as if that settled things. “Being clean will make you feel better, yes? We'll give you a bath. There is plenty of time where we have the place to ourselves.”
“W-what?” Gregor balked. “I can't go inside. If I'm caught breaking and entering, she could have me killed-” It would be well within her legal rights to do so under the accord. Even being present on her deck was likely pushing it.
Hell, if she had somehow legally acquired the entire island, she could probably hunt Gregor for sport if she chose…
He moved to shunt Maggy off his lap. She moved in kind, getting to her feet with another stretch.
“Very well. There is an outdoor shower on the lower floor. It's used to get clean from the sand on the beach. You can get a bath there without going inside” A vine extended from the leafy little feline, wrapping snug around Gregor's wrist.
“We'll show you the way. C’mon terran. This way, let's go , pspspsps-” She whistled, giving him a gentle tug along.
Gregor found the corners of his mouth twitching in dry amusement as he followed after her, Chappi and Melita in tow.
They made their way down a flight of stairs on the outdoor deck, through an airy passageway carved into the cool stone cliff side that let itself out on the level of the smooth white beaches.
Gregor hadn't initially spotted it from his high vantage point up the mountain when he had been scouting - but down here on the beach, another smaller building of bright sandalwood and shale had been constructed. An indoor / outdoor bath house. It had some interior lounge chairs (in case of a sudden turn of the weather) and carried a stock of extra towels and other equipment.
Additionally, there were curved walls that granted some (but not much) privacy for outdoor shower heads.
Gregor was so in awe at the notion of actual plumbing that it wasn't until the hot spray of fresh, clean water hit him in the face that he realized that the brigade of little animals had no notion of giving him any privacy after herding him under the water.
Quite the opposite, really. In short order Melita was sitting on his shoulders, scrubbing shampoo deep into his scalp while Chappi was scrubbing down his back. Deep rivulets of dank water ran off his back and down his sides, trailing away down the drain.
The tattered remains of his ragged, thrice-mended flight suit were kicked aside for the time being. He balked for a moment in his bare skin, though not quite as much as he would have if he wasn’t so wildly unacclimated to the company of others.
Maggy meanwhile, seemed to be cataloguing each scratch, sore and blemish on his body. Under his arms, around the legs. Her body unraveled a bit as more vines were produced. She hummed and tutted as she examined his sores and wounds.
“Say aaah-” Two vines nudged at his jaw. Maggy was propped up and sitting upright on a series of vines woven together beneath her as she peered into his mouth like a horse at market.
“You need to see a veterinarian, terran.” Maggy tutted, gingerly tapping his broken tooth gingerly with the tip of a vine. “But I suppose you’re not as badly off as you ought to be, considering.”
“A vet, huh?” Gregor nearly laughed, though he sobered up as Maggy brandished a set of clippers and set about taking out the thick beard that had taken over his face. What had previously been perfectly catlike paws now seemed to sport a rinan’s signature two-thumbed configuration as she worked.
He was quietly grateful for the attention. Gregor had always hated his facial hair - or any of his body hair, really. But he hardly had the tools to manage that sort of thing out here on his own. Maggy lathered up his face next, taking a straight razor to the skin.
He didn't dare to ask, but his heart skipped a beat as Maggy proceeded, shaving him down to bare, smooth skin.
“That feels… incredible, thank you.” Gregor breathed out. He didn't see his reflection (he didn't want to, really). But the cool and the lightness about his face was transcendental. His thoughts briefly shifted wistfully back to the image of Miss Whitegrove and her long, smooth legs.
Melita similarly had done a miraculous job of turning what had previously been an impossibly unruly tangle of hopelessly mistreated hair into a soft cascade of amber-blonde.
“You, um. Don’t have to cut my hair. I can keep it long.”
“It looks very pretty when it's long.” Maggy agreed, her eyes squinting with delight.
“Yes, what a pretty terran you are!”
“I bet you are super excited now to ask Mistress if you can be her pet!”
That final statement seemed to break the dam of stoicism that had settled over Gregor over the years and set about gathering dust. His lip quivered for the final time, before a true and proper laugh burst out unbidden from the back of his throat. It was an awkward, startled thing - as if his body had forgotten how to do it.
“Aw, you can laugh!”
“Good job, terran!”
“What a good girl!”
The water shut off, and Chappi threw a fluffy towel over Gregor’s head.
I really ought to correct them . Gregor considered it wryly. But he didn’t see much point.
It wasn’t as if he had anyone here to impress with his ability to perform a gender. It was something he’d have to put back on as a mantle of, if he was going to rejoin society.
“So, what are you going to do after Whitegrove helps you, terran?” Maggy asked, ruffling the towel over Gregor’s hair. She lifted it up, peeking around his long damp hair to meet his eye. “Do you have a family you want to find, hm? Let them know you are alive?”
“Heh, the only family I have, I’m alright if they go on thinking I’m dead.” Gregor finished toweling off his head with a wry smile. “Maybe I could try to reach out to Captain Mercer. He might be able to help point me in the right direction, get back on my feet… find a job…”
Gregor exhaled a deep breath, hugging the towel close.
It was soft.
He nuzzled into it, breathing in the gentle floral scent of the fabric.
His body felt fresh, and light. As if he could finally feel the breeze.
“A job, huh? One of those old terran things?” Chappi returned from the other room, where it had somehow procured a fresh set of clothes for Gregor. He gratefully tugged on the long, soft sweater. It was terribly comfortable, though it wouldn’t be much use out in the jungle.
“Nobody liked doing those. Why would you want to do that?”
Gregor smirked again, tugging on the loose, flowing pants.
“Uh, well. I have to. If I want to, y’know eat. See a doctor like you said.” He nodded to Maggy. “Terrans aren’t pets. We need to work, and be useful. If we want to exist in the world.” Especially not ones like him, that were born into harsh, ugly worlds and lived harsh, ugly lives.
Maggy made a noncommittal, unhappy sort of noise. Her vine looped and coiled around his wrist once again, with an affirmative little squeeze.
“And if you didn’t? Would that make you happy?”
“Well, living out here certainly hasn’t made me happy.” Gregor smirked. The vine tugged him along, though he found himself resisting for a moment. Did she want him to go back upstairs?
Perhaps he shouldn’t-
“C’mon, terran.” Maggy gave him a gentle tug. “It’s okay, don’t be afraid.”
“Maybe I should-”
“ You must be very tired, terran.” Maggy said, just as Gregor’s knees sagged out from under him.
Quite suddenly, the prospect of the long trek back to his dank little cave seemed impossible to consider. His body felt heavy, his head swam.
“I- uh,” Gregor braced himself against the side of the bathhouse as his vision swam.
There was a gentle little tug at his wrist.
“ C’mon, good girl. Let’s go take a nap . It’s okay. ”
Maggy’s voice was warm, filling every corner of his mind.
“C’mon.”
Tug, tug.
Gregor’s body started to move on its own, following after the gentle, coaxing voice. Perhaps already, something deep and primal in the back of his mind - something too weak to fight - knew better than to test what might happen if he were to dig in his heels and test the vine now leashed to his wrist.
“ That’s it, that’s a good girl .”
The praise was like a balm on his tired, broken body.
He wasn’t quite sure how he made it back up to the deck. He was only distantly aware of his body collapsing gratefully onto one of the comfortable nest-shaped lounge chairs by the side of the pool.
His eyelids were impossibly heavy, the strength was simply gone from his limbs.
He could pull himself out, maybe…
At the very least, find someplace more humble to curl up and hide until he could shake the strange fatigue that overtook him…
The thought was promptly - quite literally- squashed as Maggy’s warm, heavy body settled over him. One paw on either side of his neck again once again, cuddling in.
“Are you… have you doing something to me?” Gregor said muzzily. Even his jaw felt cumbersome to work. His eyes were closed, his consciousness paddling desperately to stay above water. “I feel strange…”
“You need rest now, terran.”
“I can’t stay here…”
“ You are safe. ”
Maggy was purring, the rhythm thrumming through him.
Something was nuzzling under Gregor’s arm. He murmured questioningly and shifted as Melita the rinan nuzzled up under his elbow. She wedged herself in between Maggy and Gregor, cuddling up under his chin. Clumsy, heavy fingers touched her side as gently as he could. Her fur was soft like silk, almost like water. Another gentle weight settled down across Gregor’s legs as Chappi curled up to complete the cuddle pile.
It was the last thing he considered before finally slipping under into a deep, heavy sleep.
Gregor’s sleep was deep, and dreamless. The sleep that came on and settled thickly after a very long, hard day.
He could have been asleep for hours, or it could have been for days.
He floated slowly back to the surface of consciousness. The sun was in a different position.
The pile of fluffy animals had been replaced with a weighted blanket tucked up around his body.
There was a woman peering over him, with large green eyes and a massive white sunhat.
“Hello!”
Gregor yelped, scrambling (with some difficulty) out of the nest-shaped chair and onto the deck. This was it.
He was fucked, he was so fucked-
“I- I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-!”
“Gregor, stop, it’s alright!”
He tore his arm out of her hand as she reached for him. His mind skipped along a beat-and-a-half behind his body, not catching up until he had nearly plastered himself along the wall of the patio.
“Wh-what did you say?”
“It is you, isn’t it Gregor?”
Whitegrove trotted over to him, all elegant limbs and grace. Milk-soft hands took his own, clasping them tight.
“It is! I can’t believe you’re alive!”
“W-what?” Gregor gaped up at her.
There were stars in her eyes.
Large, green eyes.
The kind he had only seen before on…
“Are you… do you know Captain Mercer?”
Her eyes went wide, then crinkled at the corners as she laughed.
“I go by ‘Dinah’ these days!”
“Dinah…” Gregor repeated dumbly, the gears in his head moving slowly. Dinah crouched down in front of him, taking his hands more gently this time.
“We thought you died when your ship went down, Gregor. We didn't have the resources… they said you were gone.” She leaned forward, her voice teetered on breaking from emotion. “But I should have looked for you. I am so sorry… ”
“Captain…?” Gregor spoke tremulously, his eyes wide.
“I can scarcely even consider it now… not having the resources. ” Dinah laughed, scrubbing a tear from the corner of her eye as she spoke. “It seems insane to me, that I just let myself believe it…”
“The important thing is that you are together now.” Maggy strode up alongside Dinah. A vine from her shoulder patted the woman on her head. At the touch, Dinah simply melted, leaning into it with a blissful smile.
“Dr. Ainleog is on his way down from the ship to do a check-up on our new friend. I thought that might be nicer for him, since it seems we have a bit to catch him up on how things have changed.”
“Yes Mistress.” Dinah purred, nuzzling into the vine as Maggy rubbed her flank up against the terran affectionately.
Gregor was frozen in place, struggling to put the pieces together.
Captain Mercer was a woman now (had he always been a woman?)
This woman was Dinah, not Mistress Whitegrove at all.
So who…?
“I am sorry for deceiving you.” Maggy turned to Gregor, with the warm sort of smugness of someone who wasn’t the least bit sorry at all. “But I didn’t want to startle you. And you’ve been just so cute .” A vine wrapped around the back of Gregor’s neck, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“... You are Whitegrove.”
“Hm? Yes, but also no.” Maggy chastised gently. The grip on Gregor’s neck tightened - not threateningly, but in a way that was grounding. The buzzing slowed as he was drawn into her steady, constant gaze. “Why don’t you try again, pet?”
“You’re… Mistress…”
“ Good girl.” Maggy praised. She strode into Gregor’s lap, lifting herself up onto her hind legs to nuzzle him under the chin. “You terrans have such nice laps.” She turned about, slumping down on her hind legs to reveal a quite soft-looking tummy, paws in the air. “Though yours is still a bit bony. We’re going to fix that.”
Maggy’s eyes squinted with delight as Gregor scritched Mistress’ ears. Dinah was spread out on her stomach in a picture of bliss, stroking her thumb over one of the creature’s plump toe-beans.
“O-okay…”
“Good!” Maggie hopped off his lap, tail swishing with satisfaction. “Breakfast, then I want you to get some more sleep. We’ve already compiled a proper bed for you.”
Her vine reached out again, this time looping loosely around Gregor’s neck. Another one looped around Dinah’s collar.
“It’s at the foot of mine, right where it ought to be. I planned on spending more time here showing my florets around the island I was uplifted from, but I think we’ll cut the holiday a bit short. Maybe visit Tsuga Necrotia’s ski resort, wouldn’t that be nice?”
There was a gentle tug on the leash for Gregor to move. Dinah was on her feet, offering him her hand.
“- Of course no skiing for you until the vet says so, Gregor. But there are some very nice hot springs. I hear they quite help with the growing pains that can come with a Class-G regimen-”
Maggie opened the door. Inside, he could see Chappi and Melita carrying a large roasted chicken from the counter to a dining table. He caught the scent of it, rich and savory.
Gregor looked up to Dinah, putting his hand in hers. The two followed their Mistress inside as the moon began to rise.