Chapter Text
He's not supposed to be down here, on Earth. Not without his escort, anyway. But he's learned to dodge them and find his way to the Ostron village before. Cetus. He loves the plains. Really, he loves everywhere that isn’t home, but something is special about this village. The halls of Lua, of what he’s supposed to think is his home, are called golden, but they never felt golden to him. Gilded, at best. Decorated. Glittering and shining, but cold. Cold and distant as the stars, even when he was in the room.
Golden is the plains, rolling out as far as he can see, with a few copse of trees dotting the hills. Yellow green grass, full of fireflies and life. Satoru wants to run through it and feel it scrape against his calves. He wants to roll down the slopes and splash in the water that almost blinds him with how it shines the sun back into his eyes. That’s what he did the first time he slipped away and took a landing craft down here. He was so fascinated when he got caught on brambles and saw the faint streaks of red of his own blood against blue skin for the first time. Then he was taken back to Lua and chided.
Just because you can get a new body, doesn’t mean you should carelessly get scars and imperfections on this one.
An Orokin’s body is supposed to be beautiful. And beautiful means untouchable.
Hoods are common enough, by both travelers and residents. Satoru learned quickly that Ostron children won’t play with an Orokin. They’ve probably heard too many Naberus tales about it, like that one about the costumes. Three Orokin catching Ostrons, mutilating them, then using blue Kuva to temporarily possess them, only for a servant girl to pour red Kuva down their throats to make the transfer permanent. It’s meant to scare children like him into reverence about Kuva! It wasn’t supposed to make Ostrons scared of him.
Whatever. Guess it means he has to hide his face a bit, but the shades and the hood only do so much when people get close by. Maybe he can keep his distance and at least people watch for a bit before his Dax catches up to him.
Satoru keeps to the outskirts of the market, where he can smell spices, sweet nectar, and the salt spray of the ocean. Shouts of workers harvesting from the Unum’s tower, children’s laughter in the distance. Bright orange and yellow canvas are strung about in canopies, creating shade for the market stalls and banners hang from them, making Satoru realize that he just missed some kind of festival. He kicks rocks in frustration.
“You really should get a mask,” a voice comes from behind him.
Satoru turns to see a boy lounging on the canopy like it’s his personal hammock. There’s something uncannily beautiful about the Ostron boy, with the lock of hair falling over one side of his face and the almost too wide smile. The rest of his silky black hair is pulled into a top knot and he wears loose, navy blue pants tucked into work boots. His ears have dark stone gauges and even though he looks a little younger than himself, his amber eyes seem somehow wise and ancient. Satoru stares, taking him all in, mouth hanging open for a little too long before he reminds himself to speak and blurts out, “What’s with the bangs?”
“What’s with the glasses?” the boy returns sharply, rolling his eyes, and it’s the first time anyone who isn’t Orokin has dared talk back to him.
Satoru grins, tipping down his shades to look at the Ostron boy directly, eyes glowing like the morning sky. “People around here find me too dazzling, so I try to cover up. I’m considerate like that.”
He snorts, clearly not impressed or even remotely dazzled. “You’re slumming it again and trying not to get caught.”
“Oh?” He’s absolutely giddy about being recognized, as if he wasn’t the most memorable person to visit this village. “You’ve seen me before?”
“You stand out. That’s why you need a mask.” He taps his temple, as if this advice is very clever and not incredibly obvious.
“Right, like that’s normal.”
“Yeah, for off-worlders. The air doesn’t agree with everyone. And for kids playing. Kavats, norgs. Sometimes a Dax.” He hops down from the canopy, kicking up a bit of dust, but landing surprisingly lightly. “You just need to get some stuff to barter with.”
Satoru coughs a little as the dust hits his nose, then laughs. “Barter? I have plenty of money.”
He shakes his head. “It’s useless here, no one would risk it.”
“Risk getting money? No wonder Ostrons are so poor…” Satoru groans, rubbing the back of his neck. Even if he bought something cheap, it’d give him away? Man.
The boy rolls his eyes and starts walking away, towards the center of the market. “Good luck, blue boy.”
Satoru scowls at his back, confused at how quickly the conversation turned. He’s sure he’s offended somehow, but isn’t he right? Ostrons are poor, aren’t they? Hard-working people, but Earth isn’t like Lua. They get sick, they die, they spend all day breaking their backs, then hardly have any time for any of the finer things in life. This is a wash. But… He shoves his glasses back over his eyes and jogs after the Ostron boy and grabs him by the shoulder. “What kind of an insult is that? Get creative. It’s the first time I’ve been insulted by one of you.”
The boy does something even more surprising than give him lip. He actually strikes him. Swats his arm away and turns, hands still up, ready to really fight. Satoru grins. The boy could get severely punished for that. Satoru isn’t even sure what would be done to him, because he’s never heard of it happening. But the boy is absolutely not afraid. They might as well be equals in his eyes. His beautiful, golden eyes.
“I’d be more specific, but I don’t think an idiot like you would understand if I got creative.” The boy smirks, beckoning Satoru to come closer, daring him to.
Just as he steps forward to take the challenge, there’s a scrape of boots against gravel and a sword stops inches away from the Ostron’s throat.
“Dax—“ The boy steps back slowly.
“We were just playing, Yaga, come on,” Satoru groans. “You’re getting faster at finding me.”
“Go home, boy,” Yaga says. “This kid is only going to get you in trouble. Satoru, come.”
Just like that, the Ostron boy runs away, disappearing into the tents of the market. And Satoru realizes he never got his name.
This wasn't the first time Suguru saw the white-haired Orokin boy prowling around Cetus. He didn't think he was actually a child; it's hard to tell how many lives an Orokin has had, after all. Not that he gets to meet many in person. They don't often come to Cetus and Suguru has always been told to avoid drawing their attention, but especially don't earn their ire. If they weren't on Earth for business (which was never a good sign), they were bored. When you run out of things to do on Lua, you start picking on the ordinary people. Get a shiny new body, then see what kind of mischief you can get into on Earth.
The Orokin boy, who he now knows is Satoru, just ran around on the plains. He got surprised by the sight of his own blood on a scrape. This was not some old man who'd traded in his decrepit body in for a younger model, this was an actual Orokin child. Suguru wondered how many of those there were, how often immortal people really needed to reproduce. And his Dax, Yaga Dax, apparently, had come to take him back to Lua then, too.
It was the third time he saw him in Cetus that Suguru had dared to speak to him. And it wasn't at all what he imagined an Orokin to be like. Stiff. Cruel. He was about as haughty as Suguru expected, but not in a malicious way. And when they touched, his heart raced. He wasn't frightened of what would happen if he got in trouble for this. He saw in those lonely blue eyes the same feelings he felt. The Unum touches Suguru, from time to time, dreams of warning. A blessing, but not one that makes it easy to relate to other children. And the honor is less thrilling when it might one day come with leaving for the secretive Quills.
Suguru sits on the roof of his parents’ house, rubbing his shoulder where Satoru’s hand had touched him, feeling a strange ache. He doubts he’ll ever see him again. Yaga Dax is surely going to be keeping a closer eye on his charge, now that he thinks there’s trouble on the horizon. He stares up at the moon until his parents call him inside for bed.
And so, things go back to normal. He climbs the scaffolding of the tower, thanks the Unum for her gifts, and helps to process the meat before he goes home. He watches the moon rise each evening, to increasing annoyance from his parents. “Ai yo, where is your mind going now?” they wonder.
He goes to sleep and dreams of a mountain pass and a blue hand reaching out to him, dragging him into nothingness.
He wakes with the dawn. He climbs. He harvests. He stares at the moon. He dreams.
He wakes, but this time, instead of the soft light of morning, he’s looking up at eyes that glitter like stars. Suguru jolts, not able to sit up with the Orokin boy leaning so closely over him. “Satoru? What are you doing here?” Suguru hisses a whisper.
He grins, like he hasn’t just broken into someone’s bedroom in the middle of the night. “I made Yaga find out where you lived. You got parents in the other room?”
Suguru puts a hand on Satoru’s shoulder to push him away, sitting up. His hair falls in a tangle in front of his face until he pushes it back, letting out a soft sigh. “Chut, they’ll be livid if they find you. Get out.”
Satoru wrinkles his nose. “You’re coming, right? I just got here.”
“Yes, just let me get some clothes on…” He shoves him again, encouraging a little bit of urgency.
Satoru glances down at the linens Suguru is sleeping in, almost seeming confused by the idea. Suguru realizes, as his eyes adjust to the dark, that now that he’s not trying to hide, Satoru wears nothing but a white mesh toga, a golden band on one shoulder. His hands are touching bare skin, warmth seeping into his fingers.
Shyly, Suguru pulls away. “Wait outside.”
Satoru tilts his head and opens his mouth to ask more questions.
“Kruna metta… wait. out. side.”
Satoru suppresses a laugh, but finally pulls away and slips back out the window, landing in the grass below with a dull thud.
Suguru dresses quickly and pulls his hair into a messy bun. Before slipping out of his window, he leans his ear against his door, checking that none of the whispers or muffled movements have woken his parents. He finds Satoru kicking a rock around with the toe of his sandle. “You really get bored easy…” he murmurs. “What are you going to do with living forever, huh?” He starts walking away from the house, down towards the dock.
Satoru trots after him. “It’s a big system. I’m sure I can find something to do on every planet. And soon, we’re going to Tau, you know. They’ll start recruiting people for the first colony ship any day now.”
So this is just passing time to him, until something else catches his fancy. Suguru stares at him sideways for a moment, then focuses on his feet navigating the dark, moonlit ground. “Why did you have your Dax find me?”
“Where else am I gonna find anyone to hang out with?” Satoru shakes his head. “Why are your parents going to be mad if they know I was in your room?”
Suguru laughs. “You can’t be serious. I’m not even allowed to have kids who actually live here in my room after dark. If any of the neighbors spotted an Orokin in my room, what would they think?”
“Lucky you?” Satoru smirks. “What’s the problem with one of us being friends with one of you?”
“It isn’t done, Satoru…” Suguru sighs, the humor in the absurdity of Satoru fading as he can’t help but look at the reality of the world they live in. “You can come down to Er, but if I go to Lua… I don’t know, they’d probably glass me for the audacity. And when I get old, I’ll die. When you get old, you’ll get a new body. My place is here and your place is up there.” He points at Lua, feeling the light is colder when he knows Satoru isn’t up there in the golden halls.
Satoru doesn’t look like he understands. “So I won’t invite you back to my place.” He shrugs. “We’ll have to get me that mask, after all.” He hooks his arms behind his head as he strolls along the glistening silver shore. “Barter, you said?”
Suguru rubs the back of his neck, understanding in his bones why Yaga Dax said this boy would get him in trouble, but seeing the stars behind Satoru’s head draws him ever closer, just like the hand in his dreams. “See those rocks over there? Overlooking the sea? Meet me there in the daytime. I work on the tower most days, I’ll see you from up there. Cover up as much as you can and wear real shoes… We’ll have to go out on the plains and this—“ he gestures up and down at the Orokin attire “—isn’t good for anything but being a distraction.”