Chapter Text
“Do you guys ever wonder what happens when we die?”
Biffle didn't really think about the question as he asked it, only letting his mouth run free and unrestrained. He gazed up at the sky, mentally tracing over the clouds and assigning them shapes based on what he thought they looked most like.
Some were more generic, like hearts, and cookies. Then he had clouds that could have been trains, or horses. There were small portions of blue intermixed with the fluffy white shapes, and it was promising to be the first warm day of the year.
They had been lying in the grass for probably too long, but Biffle doubted any of them would really care if they did get sunburnt. Biffle had been growing increasingly bored as time went on, soon running out of clouds to study.
Hence his question.
He didn't expect it to cause such mixed reactions though.
Practically as soon as his voice had quietened Jerome had burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, hands pressed down on his stomach as he wheezed at the unexpected absurdity of Biffle's query. Next to him, Sigils had just sighed, as if he had expected nothing less from his best friend.
“What- where did that come from?” Henwy snickered, pressing a hand over his mouth to stop a giggle from escaping.
Biffle glared at the avian. “I don't know, it was just a question!”
He turned his head to one side, looking towards SSundee and Nico. “Come on guys, back me up here.”
From what he could see of SSundee's face, the human was chewing on his lower lip, features scrunched in what looked like concentration.
“I mean…it's an interesting question.” Nico's voice was filled with trepidation, but it still felt like a huge victory to Biffle.
“See! At least Nico's my friend.” The bee hybrid stretched his arms out above his head, relishing the sharp pull in his bicep muscles as he reached up through the soft blades of grass from where he was lying.
Sigils let out another sigh, but this time it was laced with humour. “Such a lovely, non-morbid topic. Definitely something you talk about everyday. Yep,” the enderman hybrid grinned. “Very normal discussion going on right no-”
Biffle grabbed a handful of grass, tearing it from its roots in the ground, then threw the grass at Sigils. He made a spluttering sound as the blades found their way into his open mouth. The sound drew another wheeze from Jerome, and a smile flickered across SSundee's face as he looked on.
Sigils threw an offended glare at Biffle, who just smiled innocently at his best friend in return, leaving Sigils to grumble under his breath about bullying and not being able to trust anyone.
“But seriously…” Henwy's voice cut through the relative quiet. “What do you think happens when we die?”
Sigils groaned, and was promptly ignored by everyone.
SSundee was the first to speak up. “I think that there's another life, where everything is perfect. There's no death, no pain– only love and happiness. I mean…I hope that's what it's like. Because what's the point of dying and then that's just it? No reunion with your friends and family, no second chance at joy?” SSundee shook his head. “I can't imagine that.”
The other five were stunned for a few seconds at the weight of his words, before Biffle gave a light snort. “I didn't expect you to go so deep, SSun. Thought you guys were just gonna make jokes.”
SSundee shrugged. “It's the truth.”
They returned to staring up at the sky. Biffle could almost pretend that it was summer, not mid-March.
Biffle loved summer.
He loved the flowers, loved the warmth on his skin when the sun dominated the sky longer than it was meant to. He loved the lightness of the days and the increased number of hours he could spend with his friends. But what else was summer for?
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.
“What are you guys up to?” Gold's voice was soft, quiet, just like it always was. The human had never been loud, and in all the years that Biffle had known him, he had only heard Gold raise his voice twice.
Sigils smirked. “Oh, you know, just relaxing, sunbathing, talking about death. You know how it is.”
Biffle heard a shocked laugh come from somewhere above his head, and recognised Karan's voice next. “Wait- what?”
Biffle sighed and blinked open his eyes, immediately being assaulted by the brightness that hadn't been able to penetrate his closed eyelids. He squinted up at the human and the fish hybrid, seeing Gold's black shirt and Karan's blue jumpsuit.
“It was only mentioned in passing,” he tried to argue, but was silenced by a sharp look from the enderman hybrid.
“Gold, Karan, I am so glad that you came. Please save me from my morbid best friend.”
Karan laughed again, louder this time, and Gold's gentle chuckle could be heard underneath the sound. The two slowly knelt down in the grass next to the six, and Karan fell backwards with a content sigh, spreading both of his arms out to his sides.
Gold had to press his lips together to keep himself from smirking at the sight of his best friend sprawled amongst the grass and wildflowers. Gold leant back further and further, taking his time, until he was horizontal, squinting up at the sun with half-closed eyes.
Biffle heard shuffling to his left– Nico, sitting up from where he had previously been reclining. The draconian's deep red wings draped over his shoulders, and from this close Biffle could see the outline of the tendons and muscles that made up the framework of his wings. SSundee mirrored Nico, using his elbows to lever his torso up until he was sat cross-legged next to the draconian.
Spring was when Polus really came alive. The numerous expanses of grass in and around the town centre always bloomed with wildflowers that Biffle tried to learn the names of, but inevitably ended up forgetting. Mitz had always been good with flower names, able to identify practically any plant that she saw.
The flowers lined the stone paths and the edges of the old fountain with colours that almost looked too bright to possibly be real. Like a fantasy, a daydream, the town looked like a scene pulled from the pages of a storybook.
The gentle trickling of the water falling from the top of the fountain, down to the second layer, then over the edge again provided a calming background noise that Biffle drank in, senses alive and swimming in the rich sensations all around him.
The walkways curved out from the centre of the town, tracing routes to the twelve houses that the inhabitants of Polus resided in. Some people lived together, in pairs, but most of them had their own houses, preferring more privacy.
But there was a thirteenth path, one beginning to crack slightly from the amount of feet that walked that route every day.
The graveyard was just on the edge of the forest that surrounded the small town, hidden but not really hidden if you looked for it. A large weeping willow tree dominated the small, enclosed space, casting dancing shadows on the singular grave that lay inside the wooden fences marking the area.
But the grave was empty– no body lay in the space. Because the body had never been retrieved, it had never been safe to go back and take home their fallen friend. So they carved out a headstone and embedded it into the ground until it didn't fall over, a memory of a friend that they had lost.
Biffle sighed. Now he really was getting morbid. Sigils would have a field day with this if he ever found out that the bee hybrid was thinking about a graveyard.
“So, Gold.” Jerome's voice broke through the growing silence before it could get uncomfortable. “What are you working on?”
Gold shrugged, the sunlight catching his dirty-blonde hair and making it seem almost golden. “My last idea got rejected, so now I'm just planning.”
Gold worked as an inventor for the government of their planet– Novara– so the blonde man was almost always covered in some sort of wood chips and dust from sawn-off metal. Biffke admired Gold– the human was really smart for what he did, and some of the ideas that Gold came up with were honestly radical.
How any of his suggestions could possibly get rejected was beyond Biffle, but the bee hybrid supposed that the government only wanted certain projects to be undertaken. He still didn't think it was fair though. However, if there was something that got rejected but Gold really wanted to make it, he could, but he would have to fund it with his own money.
Biffle didn't miss the way that Gold bit his lip uneasily as he admitted that his idea had been scrapped. Neither did Karan, as the fish hybrid wrapped his best friend in a tight embrace that nearly knocked Gold over sideways. He yelped, but Karan only squeezed him tighter before eventually releasing the human with a small, almost apologetic smile. Gold reached over and took his hand, signalling that he was okay.
SSundee shifted, pushing his ever-present sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose from where they had slipped to keep his eyes covered. Biffle had only ever seen SSundee's eyes uncovered once, and even then it was by accident. He was still staring at SSundee when the human cleared his throat.
“Do you know where everyone else is?” The question was directed at Gold and Karan, but it was Jerome who answered.
“I think I saw Ambrew and Zud in the shopping district earlier, but I have no idea where the others are.”
No one else spoke up, so Biffle took that to mean they didn't know either. The group fell back into silence, running their fingers over the coarse grass that cushioned them from the solid dirt beneath.
Biffle sighed contentedly, tilting his head up further to once again gaze at the clouds above his head. The blue of the sky seemed to be even richer now. Bright as a piece of lapis, the bee hybrid thought as he stared up.
He was careful not to look at the sun for too long– he had made that mistake earlier, and it had taken a while before he stopped seeing dots.
The sudden rustling of a pair of wings snapped Biffle back to reality, and he realised he had no idea how long he had zoned out for. He lifted his head to find the other men staring at some point on the ground a couple of metres away.
Biffle frowned and followed their gazes to see a glossy black crow. Its claws were curled and buried in the earth, and its ready black eye seemed to be staring directly at the group. A harsh, heavy air pressed down on the eight as the bird stood motionless, eyeing them with no trace of weariness.
Biffle told himself to breathe, that it was just a stupid bird, but his lungs wouldn't comply. Somehow, the appearance of the passerine had tipped him completely over the edge. The crow stretched its wings, feathers as dark as spilled oil, and pushed off into the sky.
The group watched in silence as it flew off towards the horizon, until it was merely a speck of ink. Then it was gone, out of sight.
The uneasy atmosphere seemed to vanish almost immediately, and Biffle took a full breath for what seemed like the first time in minutes. His chest ached from the lack of oxygen. The crow seemed to be stuck in a loop inside his head, wings obscuring his vision and making it impossible for him to think clearly.
Slowly, one by one, the group descended into laughter at their own fear and stupidity. A few giggles triggered a wave of hysteria that soon enveloped the eight of them. It was the sort of situation where you weren't quite sure what you were laughing at, but you just had to laugh, because it felt like the only thing that you could really do.
All it took was for one of them to make eye contact with another, and they would fall back into laughter. Biffle inhaled shakily with his lips pressed tight together to try and hold back the giggles that were threatening to unravel his composure completely and spill out again.
“Why are- we- this worked up- over a- damn- pesky bird?” Henwy's question was barely comprehensible through his laughter– the avian was clutching his stomach as he doubled over once more.
The question sent Biffle over the edge once again and the bee hybrid let out a high-pitched laugh. It took a minute or two for him to get a grip of himself and calm back down, to be able to take anything seriously.
Who would have thought that a passerine could have had that much of an effect? Biffle shook his head once, the brown curls falling down over his ears. It was just a bird. Just a bird. It meant absolutely nothing.
Biffle had never been superstitious, but somehow a little voice in his head had sprung to life, whispering incessantly and urging him that danger lay ahead.
But Polus was a haven. A paradise of wildflowers– of crocuses, roses, hyssops, poppies– and was filled with some of the most kind-hearted people that Biffle had ever met. Nothing could possibly go wrong in a place like this.
A rustle of movement to his side drew the bee hybrid's eye, and Biffle watched as Henwy spread his magnificent golden-yellow wings, then ran one hand over the feathers, picking out any dirt or debris that had gotten trapped amongst the appendages. The sunlight seemed to hit the avian perfectly, illuminating him in a soft glow that was made almost ethereal by the reflections off his golden feathers.
Biffle watched Henwy shake his wings, just once, before easing them shut. He noticed how Henwy made sure to keep his wings folded tightly high against his back, making sure that not even the tips dropped against the grassy carpet beneath him.
The sun warmed his face, and Biffle fluttered his own wings to let them catch the warm rays as well. The millimeter-thin wings were threaded with faint brown-ish lines where the different joints connected, and Biffle let out a soft exhale at the sheer normality and pleasure of the situation.
It was unusually nice weather for March, and Biffle had no doubts that it wouldn't last, so he might as well make the most of it while he could. The weather in Novara didn't typically follow any patterns, instead ranging from week to week. For all he knew, it could be tipping it down tomorrow, rendering him trapped inside his house until the downpour ended.
But Polus never really changed– only the people.
And the sun continued to shine, and the group continued their usual banter that only true friends can share and understand. Because they were true friends– bound together by love and memories, trust and loyalty.
Biffle looked over his right shoulder from where he had eased himself up into a sitting position, knees clicking as he maneuvered himself until he was vertical. A small patch of daisies was blooming, their petals soft and the colour of the purest snow.
The bee hybrid had seen snow about…six times in his life, but he still remembered how cold it was against his skin, and the texture that was unlike anything he had ever felt before.
The mountain ranges in Novara were always sprinkled in the white phenomenon, and when it got really cold, the snow would fall on other parts of the planet, turning towns, cities and villages into winter dreamlands.
When Biffle was twenty, he and Sigils had decided to make the five-day journey to one of Novara's tallest mountains, and climbed to the very top. They had both been completely wiped out by the end of it, but the view had been so worth it. They could see for miles and miles, overlooking the valleys and rivers and endless forestry that made up the geography of Novara.
It really was a beautiful planet, when Biffle thought about it. Novara was his home, the one place that had been constant in his life, the one place where he could feel safe even though he was a hybrid.
Hybrids in this galaxy weren't always accepted. They were called freaks of nature, unnatural, unworthy of life. Novara was a haven, a sanctuary where hybrids were welcomed without barriers or hidden agendas, making it one of the most hybrid-populated planets on record.
Biffle had been born on Novara, unlike most of his hybrid friends, who had moved to Novara from their home planets, leaving behind their lives for a chance of happiness and freedom. Biffle knew how extreme hybrid hate could be, but he had never witnessed it firsthand, unlike some of his friends.
He had never really asked them to recount their experiences, but he saw the effect that it had on them. Gold had PTSD, Karan had insomnia, and who knew what secrets the others held close to their chests. Because that was the reality of hate– it affected people long after the incident.
Biffle shook his head once to clear it and redirected his focus back onto the daisies. He swivelled around to face the patch of flowers and carefully outstretched his left arm. The stems felt like silk against his fingers, and he plucked one of the flowers, taking care to leave a long stem still attached to the head of the daisy.
Bringing the daisy up to his face, he spun it around between the pads of his fingers. For a second, he wondered what it would feel like to rub the flower against his cheek, and feel the caress of the petals on his face. Then he pushed away the idea– there was probably someone watching him, and if it was Sigils…Biffle really didn't want to give him any further ammunition. No doubt Sigils would already torment Biffle for the next few days with the morbid jokes– there was no point in inciting a new round of jokes about Biffle letting his bee hybrid traits show through.
Not that Biffle was embarrassed about being a hybrid– he was proud of his roots– but that didn't mean that he was open to hearing jokes all day, every day about his heritage.
And somehow, he had gotten distracted again. He remembered the daisy that he was still holding in one hand, and what he wanted to do with it. Carefully, so carefully, he took his index finger and used his nail to create a small tear near the cut-off end of the stem. He pressed down slowly so as not to rip the stem in half, and gave a small smile when the incision went cleanly.
Biffle reached down and picked another daisy, repeating the process of creating a hole, and then he threaded the flowers together until they were linked properly. Again, and again, and again, until there was only one flower left in the grass, and he was holding a sizeable chain.
Biffle extended his arm, plucking the final daisy from the earth. He lay the chain on his outstretched legs, taking care to not disturb the stems that were so delicate beneath his fingers. He used his nail to create a small tear in the stem of the daisy, and picked the chain back up again. He was dimly aware of his tongue poking through the slats of his teeth as his concentration grew.
As Biffle began to thread the final flower into the chain to link it together, the delicate stems ripped clean in half, and the daisies fell to the ground, limp.