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Her mind wandered alone.
Artificer had been made, in recent cycles, very much aware of that fact—ever since her vengeful mental conflict settled and her anger receded. When the idea was suggested that she could settle into the colony, she’d have thought that a calmer lifestyle would help; give her a chance to heal and let go. And doing so definitely did not do the opposite, but it also didn’t do what Artificer had fully hoped it would.
The only thing she’d gotten out of ‘settling’ was a feeling of immense emptiness. Was that better? At least she wasn’t hurting anybody anymore. But being so docile felt terribly, awfully wrong—as if peace didn’t suit a slugcat like her.
Or maybe, just maybe; Artificer was lonely. Maybe she’d always been lonely, at least since the loss of her pups. Maybe the constant violence helped dampen that feeling. Maybe peace meant she wouldn’t have to hurt physically anymore, but now all she could think of was her loneliness. And it was worse than the pain of losing an ear or scorching half her body in flame.
The ground scraped gently as Artificer’s claw slid across it, just a few inches away from her face. And it was about then that the slugcat noticed the light in the shelter had gone from a lighter yellow to a vibrant orange.
Artificer’s gaze shifted to the wall, composed almost entirely of natural roots. Benefits of living in a tree, she guessed. How long had it been since she woke up? Minutes? Hours? The sun was already setting down below the distant horizon. At least, she thought that was the sun. There was only really one blinding ball of light in the sky, after all. Even poor vision didn’t stop her from understanding that.
Somewhat less predictably, however, someone began to walk the tunnel leading to her den. Artificer’s remaining ear turned in light of the sound, and then her entire head did the same.
“...You’re still awake,” spoke Survivor as he entered, his voice soft and warm. “I hoped you were.”
Artificer turned onto her side, and thankfully her neck no longer needed to crane to look at her visitor. “Good evening,” she replied quietly yet roughly. “I assumed you had only the obligation to visit for my breakfast.”
A frown disgraced the white slugcat’s face. “You know I don’t have to be your escort, right? No one is forcing me to.” He uninvitedly sat beside her.
Artificer watched idly as he settled into the matted grass, his legs awkwardly shifting until finding a position.
“Oh dear, I’d suggest you not pity me,” escaped Artificer’s mouth as a half-threat. “There isn’t much in me worth that anymore.”
“It’s care,” Survivor corrected her. “I care for your health. Mental and otherwise.”
Her head nodded in disbelief as Artificer’s gaze moved to someplace else than Survivor’s face. “Now what possessed you to do that?”
Survivor hummed in thought. “The cycles we spent together traveling toward the colony meant very much to me. I guess that helped.” Then he smiled. “And all the time we spent in shelters as well but, that’s not really all.”
“Well, I’d imagine so. It can’t just be that—”
“I want to court you, Artificer,” the white slugcat admitted, fairly bluntly; as sudden as it was profound.
…
Well, that wasn’t what she had in mind.
“...You’re sure?” Artificer muttered skeptically.
“Very much so,” nodded Survivor.
“And you are aware of the definition of court?” she pressed.
“Artificer. I love you.”
Her neck immediately pushed away, Artificer’s face suddenly buried in the grass. The statement of proclaimed affection had come so suddenly and out of the blue that she hadn’t had the mind to foresee it, much less prepare for it. And now it’d just left her feeling red in the face—redder than her fur already was naturally.
A gentle tap fell on her shoulder as Survivor, concerned, leaned closer to her. “Sorry. Was that forward?”
His hand was brushed off by Artificer, who shivered at even just the soft touch. Not a word came in reply, at least not until Artificer’s composure was restored. It took about a few seconds. “...Yes. Very. It isn’t right to… say that so early.”
“How long should I wait, then?” Survivor laughed. “You don’t seem to dislike it.”
Air blew out from Artificer’s pursed mouth as her claws, once again, dug into the ground.
“It’s not right for you to say that at all. It isn’t right for anyone to.”
“You don’t really think that, do you?”
Artificer nearly grimaced. “You’d be a fool to love someone like me.”
But Survivor just smiled warmly, again. “I’m a fool, then.”
And then things were quiet again, for a brief time. The conversation had rendered Artificer near-speechless, and it didn’t help that Survivor kept a certain calm throughout it all. His face, terribly straight yet empathetic, looked at her with a persistent smile that Artificer couldn’t help but be pleased by. She’d always admired his kindness, especially as he was someone who’d clearly suffered terrible hardship and pain. As did she, but Artificer lacked the will nor capacity to act as Survivor would; understanding and gentle.
The smile infectiously crept onto Artificer’s features, though light and weaker. She rolled her eye, attempting to break eye contact for any significant window of time; but finding that she could hardly bring herself to for longer than a couple of seconds.
“If you’ve insinuated intimacy, then I am not interested,” Artificer murmured quietly, the words reaching Survivor’s ears just loud enough for him to understand. But he just shook his head.
“Not at all,” he laughed. It relieved her to hear it.
Survivor continued. “All I’m looking for—right now, anyway—is one cycle.”
A lighthearted chuckle left Artificer. “And after that?”
“After that, you decide,” he replied.
“…Decide what?”
Then the white slugcat smirked, though not overconfidently. “Decide whether or not I may be graced by a second cycle?”
“Your desires are… suspiciously diminutive,” Artificer hummed half-thoughtfully, half-skeptically. “That’s all you wish for, and you’d let me decide whether we proceed?”
“That seems bare minimum,” Survivor nodded. “Forcing my love would have the opposite effect that I’m looking for.”
She leaned her body forward suddenly, thinking as she sat, though Artificer couldn’t help but notice Survivor’s eyes resting on her face patiently. He hadn’t made a sound.
“…It seems you’re informed of the consequences of courting me,” Artificer murmured, paw gently tapping at the ground. “Then I suppose I have no reason to decline, even if my interest stems merely from fascination.”
“Hey, I’ll take fascination,” Survivor said proudly.
Her head tilted inquisitively, both curious and—admittedly—afraid? Why? The boy had clearly meant well if his words were to be trusted, and he’d proven nothing other than he was someone to be trusted the previous dozen cycles. So Artificer’s subtle but self-apparent apprehension was for sure a surprise.
Was she getting cold feet? Impossible. Artificer didn’t get cold feet. Come on, her? Elite scavenger murderer and master explosive artisan? Getting cold—
“Are you alright?” Survivor interrupted. “You looked like you were going to say something.”
The air split as Artificer’s body cut through it like a spear until she was upright, legs almost weak from recent underuse. She ignored the sudden rush of blood to her head.
“Yes, perfectly fine. My mind was preoccupied,” she answered, arms hanging loosely at her sides. Her fingers twitched. “I’d imagine it would be rather dull to spend the entire cycle in this den.”
She waited for Survivor to take a crack at her for describing exactly what her last twelve cycles at the colony had looked like, but the joke never came. He nodded, stood as well, and began to approach the exit tunnel, gesturing for Artificer to follow with a gentle flick of the hand. To which she joined him at his side, though assuredly maintaining fixed half a foot behind Survivor’s position. If he noticed her slight lag, he certainly didn’t bring it to attention.
The tunnel leading to the tree’s main body—which had been scarcely explored in Artificer’s time at the colony—felt mostly similar walking out of it than it felt walking into it. Maybe she just hadn’t been adjusted before—and maybe she still wasn’t; But the feeling of simply existing in such a space was short of suffocating.
She was paranoid, for whatever reason, shoulders stiff and body ready to defend. Maybe Artificer would leave that tunnel and the second she did, be the target of verbal assault. Obviously if that were to happen, she would be ready. Even if she was just a guest here, Artificer absolutely would not accept insulting behavior.
But as the pair of slugcats took a few steps down the carved staircase leading into the trunk of the tree, Artificer’s suspicions were dropped.
“…I’d expected others,” she murmured, staring both ways left and right through the cavern-like tunnel that she and Survivor now stood inside.
“Oh, yes,” the white slugcat nodded. “It’s about the evening right now, so everyone’s still busy. We should be mostly uninterrupted for as long as we take the residence tunnels,” he smiled reassuringly. Artificer’s ears burnt in embarrassment.
She turned to him. “Then shouldn’t you also have more important matters? Surely you cannot be the only one with free time.”
Instead of immediately responding vocally, Survivor simply parted his cloak, just enough so she could see past it. Artificer’s attention drew to a heavily bandaged area of his torso, painted red with dried blood. Though she had seen hundreds of dead bodies and lakes full of that same vital liquid, something in her twitched uncomfortably.
“It’s my cycle off,” Survivor chuckled, allowing his cloak to fall back into place.
“You’d be wise to spend that time recovering, not in romantic pursuit,” Artificer murmured eventually. Her eye still lingered on the injury, now hidden by the blue fabric of his cloak.
But Survivor just nodded, waving her along as he continued to walk. “I count this as recovery.”
The pair, led by Survivor, moved at a steady pace down the residence tunnel, gradually descending with each step taken. What would normally be an uneven natural wood floor interlaced with obstructing roots was covered by strategically placed, bolted, and sturdy material that—thankfully—proved to be a much more pleasant walkway. It was, as Artificer took note of, clearly carefully put together with various scraps and debris that the colony must have found near industrial or urban sites. They were at least organized, if anything.
She had expected to, at the very least, be bothered by the crunchy feeling of her paws stepping on gravel and dirt, but Artificer was surprised to note that the feeling was unpresent. The colony must have had janitors.
About every twenty feet that she walked, there was a brand new pair of lanterns stuck on sharp rebar spikes embedded in the ground. One on the left side of the tunnel, one on the right. None of them glowed, to Artificer’s surprise, but it wasn’t as if they needed to. Enough light filtered in through gaps and holes in the tree walls to generously illuminate the tree internals.
Artificer couldn’t help but comment on it. “Is there a reason you’ve filled your tunnels with defective lanterns?”
“They’re not defective,” Survivor replied after a moment of thought. He stopped by one of the left-side lanterns, his hand grabbing the spike it was impaled on.
“...Lanterns glow,” Artificer muttered.
The spike turned promptly in Survivor’s hands until the other side of it was visible. Right before the tip—and subsequently the lantern—was a small clamp pushing into the object’s core. The lantern began to glow again when he dislodged the clamp, causing it to fall around an axis until abruptly stopping, thanks to a primitive locking mechanism.
“It didn’t take long for us to put our heads together and figure out a way to preserve these,” Survivor said proudly before he pushed the clamp back and stuck the spike back in its bearing.
“Preserve them? They burn out eventually, though?” Artificer prompted.
“No, uh,” Survivor shook his head. “They’re technically plants. If you don’t keep them lit for long enough, they end up recharging what was burnt.”
Artificer nodded, surprised. “...I wish I knew that earlier.”
“You experiment and learn a lot when you have an entire colony working together,” winked Survivor as the two resumed their leisurely stroll. “I really hope that at least helps convince you to stay.”
“As if I have anywhere else to leave to,” Artificer muttered like a curse. “I can’t do much on my own lately.”
The smaller slugcat frowned. “I’m sorry about your eye. For what it’s worth, Gourmand said—”
“--that it may heal in time, I’m aware,” she finished for him. “That is also not a guarantee. As much as I don’t want to, I have to accept my vision for what it is now. Very poor.”
“Well, you’ll always have a place here with—hold on, ramp,” Survivor realized. The pair had reached a sloping platform, steeper than the rest. He quickly guided Artificer down it until they were on level ground again. “...us, is what I was saying. You’ll always have a place here with us.”
A soft exhale escaped Artificer’s mouth. “It’s not my place to live amongst others. It doesn’t feel right, after what I’ve committed.”
They both came to a halt as Survivor stared at her. Artificer’s vision may have degraded, but she could still notice the confident look in his eyes.
“Everyone deserves a second chance. That includes you,” he said sternly, his hand gliding onto her shoulder. “Besides, you promised me a date, Artificer. No date of mine will wrongfully insult herself during it.”
Artificer’s head bobbed in a slight nod, and Survivor gently allowed his hand to fall back to his side. “Alright, good,” he smiled. “The next time you say something like that, I’m going to compliment you threefold. Or however many times it’ll take to be annoying.”
Then Survivor continued walking, that same confident expression on his face. Artificer trailed a little behind, her hand subconsciously holding the shoulder that the other slugcat had touched. She didn’t speak a word.
Eventually, the pair’s trip through the residence tunnels ended, the long corridors finally leading into the very bottom of the tree; a flat, circular plateau with enough space to comfortably hold a couple hundred slugcats at once. And though it didn’t quite reach that limit, there was still a fairly dense crowd of them to gaze out upon. Artificer had scarcely seen anything like it. The last time she’d seen such a big group of anything was when…
She tucked that thought away for now.
What it did cause her to feel, however, was apprehension. It was ironic, a hardened war criminal like her being afraid of a crowd. But no matter how ridiculous the feeling was to her, the pressure in her chest didn’t leave.
Survivor noticed eventually that Artificer had been standing idly by the tunnel exit, her expression undoubtedly unsure.
“You’ll have to meet them eventually,” he reassured her.
“…I am aware,” Artificer sighed. “Though if you were in my position, you’d be wise to feel similarly.”
Survivor nodded, taking a step forward only to turn a complete 180 degrees and shout “HEY, GOURMAND!” At the top of his lungs.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” cursed Artificer, who immediately strayed a few steps back into the tunnel.
Arms crossed, Survivor smiled. “Gourmand and I were the two that convinced everyone that it’d be okay to shelter you here, so surely you’d be okay talking to him?”
“Well I suppose, but—“
A pair of heavy paws approached, no longer than ten seconds after Survivor had called out. Artificer’s mouth sealed. In the corner of her vision was Gourmand, his comparatively enormous frame appearing to somehow grow larger as the distance between the two shortened. Artificer had never done well with authority before, and she expected this not to be an exception. Even if he did just look like a gargantuan marshmallow.
His hands held together a wool rag, damp after recent use. Gourmand was a very approachable slugcat, which Artificer could tell by just a glance at his face; proportions plump enough to be difficult to take seriously and a wide smile which nearly spanned its entire width. Gourmand was unlike any authority Artificer had met, that was for sure. Yet she remained on edge.
“Good evening, Survivor,” the large, orange slugcat greeted. His eyes met Artificer’s for a split second, though not in a rude way. “Ah? What a surprise! I don’t see you out of your den much, Artificer.”
“I do not leave it, period,” Artificer spat in reply, reserved and aback.
Survivor grinned softly. “Good evening, Leader Gourmand. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
The colony leader shook his head. “Your timing is most punctual. Dinner is nearly ready. I allowed Ranger to take the reigns when I heard you call for me.”
“Since when does Ranger..?” Survivor’s mouth opened, but then closed again. He nodded. “…Anyway, I wanted to get Artificer more acquainted with the colony. I’m sure it’s okay for her to join us for dinner?”
Artificer glared at him with a look that said you didn’t clear this before-hand?
The concern proved to be unwarranted when Gourmand nodded with feverish excitement. “Of course! I had been hoping that she would.”
Then he looked back at Artificer, their eyes making contact again. “Artificer, remember you always have full freedom to explore and interact with the colony as you wish, so long as you respect our rules.”
“You’ll need to remind me,” she sighed.
Gourmand paused for a little while, leaving the other two slugcats to study his face, lip pinched by teeth, as they waited. Eventually, though, he released an awkward chuckle before finally responding.
“Well, you may become acquainted with the law at a later date. All I ask is you do not steal, make violent actions, or be disrespectful.”
Artificer frowned. “Next you’ll tell me I can’t curse.”
The larger slugcat laughed. “Only when there are adolescents or pups present, please.”
The look on Artificer’s face paled and grew cold as the mere mention of pups struck a somber chord inside her. Judging by Gourmand’s raised eyebrows, he must not have expected such a reaction.
Gourmand inhaled. “I… well, I suppose I best make the dinner call.” He turned back toward the center of the tree, where there was a crowd of slugcats surrounding an extensive set of cooking equipment. But before he started to walk, he spoke again.
“Oh, and, Survivor?”
The mentioned slugcat tilted his head. “Hmm?”
“I doubt you need me to tell you this, but you’d best treat your date well,” Gourmand winked, finally setting off toward the open kitchen.
…
Artificer and Survivor stood there frozen for a while, a blush swelling on Survivor’s face and ears.
“I promise I didn’t mention anything about—“
“—let’s just move,” Artificer interrupted.
With that, the pair of slugcats finally approached the open kitchen, joining the rest of the crowd surrounding it.
Though she didn’t necessarily make any type of contact with him, Artificer near-instinctively stuck close to Survivor’s side. It had always been difficult for her to see, but with her recent injury and the fact that she was around an unfamiliar colony, it pushed Artificer that much closer to the edge. But maybe it was a little late, by now, to mention to Survivor that she’d have rather had their little outing in private. But maybe he’d have pushed her out here regardless.
It was hard to tell with him. Over her twelve cycle-long stay at the colony, Survivor had proven he could be both the most gentle and accepting slugcat that Artificer ever met—but also surprisingly persistent when it came to certain wishes of his. None of which were of poor taste, but they were scarcely the ‘comforting’ type. Such as having her attend dinnertime with over a hundred strangers.
“First call for dinner!” Yelled a voice—a tall green slugcat standing next to the prepared feast, as well as Gourmand. The open kitchen was hardly much of a kitchen at all, merely consisting of piles of food, cooked or raw, meat or plant. Though surprisingly, meals were dished out on carved wooden plates, not by hand.
“…you’re all surprisingly organized,” Artificer murmured, barely loud enough for Survivor to hear. “Even when it comes to meals.”
“It sure seems that way, right?” Survivor laughed. “But we’ve had thousands of cycles to figure this all out. Gourmand hoped to be further along by now.”
Slugcats moved in and out of the inner circle around Gourmand, accepting plates before either joining others in the crowd; or retreating to more secluded locations nearby, also sometimes joined by others. After most of the meals were distributed, it was clear who was close with who. Artificer certainly didn’t mind that the crowd thinned.
The green slugcat that had called dinner earlier suddenly motioned for Survivor and Artificer to come closer. Artificer was the first out of the two to do so, though the smaller white slugcat wasn’t far behind.
“‘Evening, you both,” he greeted them, already extending a plate covered with cooked centipede, bluefruit, and slime mold to Survivor. “Some new faces around the tree lately.”
Artificer hated that she couldn’t tell if the slugcat was being short with her. His mostly monotonous tone didn’t do her any favors. “You mean mine,” she stated coldly.
“Yours, another new member, two passing nomads. Lovely couple, by the way,” the slugcat clarified, expression still unreadable.
“Pardon?” Artificer hissed. Survivor’s mouth opened, but closed before he spoke.
The slugcat nodded. “…the nomads,” he added. “I’m saying it’s nice to see more slugcats around here.”
Survivor’s throat cleared. “Thank you very much, Ranger,” he said gratefully. “I didn’t know that you started learning to cook.”
“Gourmand has been an excellent teacher,” the green slugcat—apparently named Ranger—smiled back, if only slightly. It was the first hint of emotion that Artificer noticed on his face, and it was hardly there at all.
“Speaking of me!” Gourmand chuckled in his boisterous and confident voice—and suddenly a plate topped with grilled lizard meat and a generous helping of slime mold fell into Artificer’s hands. “This is for you!”
The immediate action startled her, but not enough for Artificer to react in anger. She stared at the plate for a moment before directing her gaze to Gourmand. “…Lizard and slime mold,” she noted.
“I do hope you enjoy it,” the colony leader said, quickly grabbing another plate before covering it with various edibles. “You seem like the type to enjoy the toughness of lizard meat. And I’m certain that everyone adores slime mold.”
He was correct, but Artificer didn’t have the thought to confirm it to him. She simply nodded. “It’s appreciated.”
The brief exchange ended there, after a short goodbye was said between Ranger and Survivor. Around the floor were several places to sit, each one marked by mostly similarly sized tarps bolted to the ground. Some slugcats decided to sit directly on the tarps themselves, while others chose seats on platforms resembling benches—also on the tarps.
Artificer was brought to a vacant spot, fairly out of the way of the rest of the large yet dispersed crowd. At least Survivor hadn’t asked her to sit with anybody else.
Survivor was the first to sit; just on the tarp, since that particular one lacked a bench. Artificer reluctantly joined him after his hand motioned to.
“Better than sitting on dirt, right?” A smile shone on Survivor’s face, again.
She mostly ignored his question. “I’ll admit, I was concerned you’d hope I’d sit with others.”
His head shook gently before Survivor brought a bluefruit to his mouth. “Absolutely not. I’d hate to make you any more uncomfortable. Besides, I’m terrible at flirting in front of people.”
Artificer chuckled. “You must be awful at it, if you’ve tried yet. I haven’t noticed at all.”
“That just means it’s effective,” Survivor winked, a mouth full of food. “I worked my charms on you this evening and you gave me this cycle.”
Despite her similarly full mouth of lizard meat and slime mold, she couldn’t help but crack up again.
“This evening was anything but flirting,” Artificer’s eye rolled light-heartedly. “You amused me, merely.”
Survivor swallowed. “Like I said, I’ll take fascination.”
Their conversation went quiet for a moment as both slugcats thought, both gradually consuming their respective meals. Though at some point during the silence, Artificer glanced at her date’s expression, studying it for clues toward his thoughts.
A sharp exhale left her nose. He was just as hard to read as that Ranger. They must have been related.
Another ten seconds passed, and the silence was officially deafening. Artificer couldn’t help but attempt to explain to herself why someone like him would ever be interested in someone like her.
She wasn’t meant to be liked. Artificer had spent the last thousand cycles of her life before meeting him to make sure of that.
Maybe it really was pity. Maybe it wasn’t a date at all, and just an excuse to pity her more. But Artificer didn’t deserve pity, and she wanted anything but pity. Pity was naive. Feeling that way about her was naive. “You’re naive.”
The two exchanged a look again. Had she said that out loud? Survivor’s expression was finally readable again, but only out of concerned puzzlement.
“What do you mean?” He asked softly, spitting a fruit husk from his mouth.
Curse her damn mouth. Now she had to follow through on that.
“You’re exceedingly kind, Survivor. But unconditional kindness is poor taste,” Artificer murmured, stare locked on her untouched food. “You haven’t the slightest idea how simple it would be for me to take advantage of you. Of this colony, too. Since the moment I arrived here, you’ve fulfilled every single demand I’ve made.”
“Let’s be fair, though,” Survivor laughed. “None of them were unreasonable.”
Artificer sighed. “Please. You’ve brought me everything I needed every cycle. Including commodities that were far from necessary. All without requiring an ounce of effort from me. I would call that unreasonable.”
“That wasn’t a request you made,” Survivor replied, his voice unreadably neutral. “Nobody ordered me to do that. It was my choice, and my idea. Also, I wouldn’t consider a blanket an unnecessary commodity.”
“At no expense of myself!” the crimson slugcat argued. “If anything, that only further proves me right. Your colony is a flawed system. If someone doesn’t work, how long do you take care of them?”
Survivor glanced away for a moment. “As long as they need.”
“Exactly. And if one never works again, then what?” she hissed.
“Then, nothing. They stay with us. And we encourage them to work; but we don’t throw people away.”
Artificer rolled her eye. “A colony should be a well-oiled machine. Even if most of the cogs are perfect, it takes a single faulty piece to tear it apart. I’d like you to guess what part of the machine the colony members are.”
Survivor was silent.
“We’re all cogs,” Artificer muttered. “And I’m the broken one. I should have been discarded the third, maybe fourth cycle. Yet I’ve been here for twelve.”
As the argument died, the pair locked eye contact. Survivor’s expression was nearly unreadable again, but not cold.
He looked… sad. Why did that make her feel so awful?
“I never liked the cogs analogy,” Survivor murmured softly. “It’s demeaning.”
Artificer tilted her head, just barely.
“We’re people. Just people,” he said finally. “People can be selfish sometimes. And terrible. But those same people can also be wonderful and kind. That includes you, Artificer. So no, we don’t throw people out for having problems. Obviously, there’s a limit—but not a single member of this colony has ever gotten close to passing it.”
She scoffed. “I have been nothing but a monster.”
“Artificer, no. Do you remember why you decided to stop pursuing the Chieftain?” Survivor asked sternly, gradually leaning closer toward her.
“…My eye,” Artificer lied.
Survivor shook his head. “You couldn’t bring yourself to hurt a child. Or their parents.”
“Such a decision is meaningless. That doesn’t change how much blood that was shed,” Artificer hissed. “There isn’t an ounce of good inside me. Why are you changing the subject to—?”
She was interrupted. “You rescued that scavenger pup. And it nearly costed you your eye. A monster wouldn’t do that.”
A faint gust of wind brushed past Artificer’s face, caressing her scarred eye. She had lost the nerve to argue. She could hardly stand to make eye contact with him.
“I can’t live here,” she whispered, barely audibly. “I shouldn’t exist around people. That privilege was lost very long ago. I am alone, and always will be. That is the only—“
“Are you alone because you’re scared?”
Artificer’s back arched, her eye shot open and suddenly she and Survivor locked eyes again.
“What? What do you—“
Survivor’s neutral face had melted into something more sympathetic. “Are you scared that you’ll hurt us?”
“…I—“
As hard as she tried, Artificer couldn’t help but continue to stare at him. As if his gaze had locked her in an inescapable cage.
“…Of course I am,” she admitted, which surprised even herself. “I have been treated with nothing but kindness. But I am not kind. Who am I to squander your effort simply because I lack the ability to repay it? Living here has been peaceful, and you’ve been so caring and hospitable. So much so that it terrifies me. I want to be here with you, but what if I hurt you? What if I hurt you, irreparably, and no amount of time or effort could ever fix it? How could I continue to live if I caused the only person to ever care for me to… to…”
A gentle, warm breath left Survivor’s mouth, landing on Artificer’s neck as he softly wrapped his arms around her, her face damp with tears. Had she started to cry? When was the last time she cried?
Normally, it would be reflexive for her to push Survivor away, away from her. But Artificer couldn’t bring herself to this time. Her arms wrapped around him as well, tears dripping from her face, tainting dark the white of Survivor’s fur.
“I wouldn’t let you hurt me that easily,” Survivor whispered. “And I’m certain you would never do so, especially not intentionally. I believe that you can be good because I’ve seen you be good. I believe in you.”
Artificer hated how his words tore her apart inside, worse than any blade could. She silently hoped that he wouldn’t suffocate under the pressure of her arms around him.
“…How am I… supposed to forgive myself?” The crimson slugcat mumbled, body randomly twitching. “After everything. All I’ve done is.. hurt and be hurt.”
Survivor’s hand, warm and gentle, rubbed comforting circles into her back. “You start slow. There’s plenty of time.”
“I don’t… I can’t be alone again,” Artificer cried. Any word of that sentence might kill her.
But Survivor just took breaths, slowly and in rhythm with hers. “You don’t have to be. You’re welcome here. At the colony, and with me.”
Her voice was lost for a second, replaced by heavy breaths and quiet sobs.
“D-don’t leave.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Survivor whispered.
The pair remained in their shared embrace for far longer than either expected. Artificer couldn’t bring herself to let go, as if releasing him meant that he’d leave her. Even if he said he’d never go. But how could she ever take that chance now?
Another half-minute passed. Energetic yet soft footsteps grew louder as a particular blue, pink-frilled slugcat entered Survivor’s vision. Artificer either had not noticed, or she didn’t care, not having budged an inch in the last minute.
“Oh, um—“ the blue slugcat stammered as she set eyes on Artificer. “Is this a bad time?”
Survivor nodded. “Give us a moment please, Rivulet.”
She smiled awkwardly before leaving a rolled up piece of paper, about the size of a letter, on the ground in front of him. “This is for you,” Rivulet mouthed.
“Thank you.”
Rivulet left promptly, but not before giving Artificer a couple of curious glances—though she, once again, didn’t notice.
…
Had she fallen asleep?
Survivor nudged his date gently, whispering her name into her ear. But instead of a response, he was met by soft breathing and shut eyes.
And then he smiled as if it was the most precious moment that Survivor had ever lived.
Carrying Artificer to her den didn’t end up being as difficult a task as he previously thought. Her fur was thick and unkempt, which made up a large portion of Artificer’s perceived size. In reality, she might have actually been about Survivor’s size, if a little bigger.
Survivor, granted, wasn’t used to carrying slugcats other than Monk, though. So it was in part a learning experience for him, holding someone larger. Maybe that became easier with time. He’d felt awkward about just letting her tail drag against the ground, so instead it hung wrapped over Survivor’s shoulder.
It was definitely the closest that he’d ever been to Artificer.
Finally, Survivor slipped into Artificer’s den, the journey there lasting a little over ten minutes. Instead of the matted grass that she apparently preferred sleeping in, Survivor gently placed the scarred slugcat down onto the sheet-covered plant fiber bed near it.
The sun had fully set by now, gone under the horizon and replaced by an inky black sky populated by millions of glittering stars. Survivor turned his attention back to Artificer, who still hadn’t released him. How could he leave her like this?
The makeshift mattress compressed slightly under Survivor’s weight as he laid as well. He could hardly help but longingly gaze at her face.
Artificer was, undoubtedly, the slugcat that Survivor fell in love with. He silently hoped that she felt the same way.
A few minutes passed. Her grip on Survivor’s body gradually reduced until her arms eventually were no more than wrapped loosely around him. But Survivor figured that he should stay with her, anyway.
His fingers twitched again, still passively exploring Artificer’s fur. It was clearly rarely washed, mixed with enough dirt to be nearly powdery. But as tattered, ragged, and un-soft as she may have been, Survivor couldn’t help but love it.
Shoot. The mattress cover would probably have to be changed in the morning, considering all the dirt.
But as exhaustion caught up with him, Survivor found that he couldn’t care less. His arms loosened just slightly around her as he drifted to sleep, and his head nested softly into the slugcat’s neck.
It was the calmest, loveliest night that Survivor had had in a very, very long time.