Grazing the Sky

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 60 (v.1) - Another, Part IV

Submitted: December 04, 2019

Reads: 46

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Submitted: December 04, 2019

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"Boshik le." It is my honor, or the human equivalent of you're welcome.

Zidane watched Lance's stare dart from his mouth to his eyes, his energy deflating. This was going to be weird for him, for sure.

A playfully muffled laugh came from the other room, and instantly Zidane's gut snarled; Adelah knew, for sure. She was laughing at the fact that Zidane had tried to hide... But when he turned, his half-sister was lowering her hand away from her mouth, a smile on her face.

"What's with standing by the doorway?" she said, her hand passing over the table. Silverware rose from the translucent surface, enough for four. "You are welcome here, you know."

A smile twitched onto Zidane's lips, and with the thought of Zooka, he pushed it further up. "Yeah, I know." The words were hard to say, almost hurting as they rose out of his throat.

Adelah left the table, continuing to cook. "Come. Dinner's almost here."

With a nod, Zidane walked through the doorway, heading for the table. A side thought occurred to him, nearly making Zidane stop in his tracks. Quickly, he moved a hand behind him, influencing the energy around Lance's head to make the human's temple connect with the tip of Zidane's finger. He tapped twice.

Ponshi.

Just as Adelah turned, Zidane pulled his arm back and straightened, continuing on as he felt an immediate, urgent question from Lance. Seeing white spots dance along his vision, Zidane opened the connection again.

"What are you doing?"

Zidane understood the confused, quiet outburst. I'm making it so you can understand us. That's the language we're speaking in.

Lance paused, and once again Zidane felt the horribly condensed energy around him loosen; he relaxed. "Oh. So what was the first language? That's the one I'm speaking in, right?"

Yeah. It's a common Spiro one. Adelah knows it, so don't worry.

He felt a powerful relief descend into Lance. To say the human was nervous was an understatement. "Alright, good. So I'll talk like this whenever I... Well, talk?"

Yeah, whenever you wanna say something, you'll speak in that language. Zidane replied, taking a seat. Do what you can to unwind. I'll cover as many questions as I can.

Lance hesitated. Do you really think she'll ask that many?

More white spots had appeared, too many for Zidane to ignore. He closed his eyes, seeing colored dots flash and feeling his head grow light. There was a feather-like weightlessness in his chest, too, which could only mean he was minutes away from using up his main reserve of energy.

Adelah knew this. Her movement towards him brought Zidane's attention back, and with a rather wide-eyed look that he didn't bother to read, she handed him something warm and roughly disc shaped. Zidane took it and shoved it in his mouth, suppressing a gag at the taste. If the whole dinner was going to be like this...

He quickly swallowed whatever it was down, feeling his eyes water slightly. He blinked the tears away, barely seeing Adelah dramatically roll her eyes as she turned back to chopping whatever she had been before.

"Oh stop with the theatrics," she said. "It's not that bad."

Zidane kept his mouth shut, about to say that he'd lived off of dumpster garbage. But then a dark alley under grey sky came into his thoughts, and a pair of golden eyes invaded his mind. He shut them both away.

Closing his eyes, he pulled in a breath, feeling the energy beginning to gather at the center of his torso. The pressure that had come from being low was subsiding, and Zidane couldn't help but wonder what had happened to his clone, thousands of miles above the surface. Had his thoughts, his conversation with Lance slipped out as spoken word? How much had he revealed?

"Okay." Adelah came towards them, a large plateful of the disc-shaped food stacked like pancakes hovering in her hands. Other plates were floating beside her. She placed all of them on the table, spreading them out in the center. "Let's eat."

_________________________

Conversation floated around Lance. His eyes shifted from Adelah to Zidane, mind working hard enough to give him a headache. Was he supposed to be understanding this language? Wouldn't a Spiro—an actual Spiro—be completely clueless to a language Razaleks spoke in?

Maybe... Maybe it's one they share... But that didn't make sense; the two races were succeeded from each other for a reason.

Shit. His thumb pressed against the edge of the spoon-like utensil wrapped around his finger, holding it tighter. What do I do?

The conversation going on around him had paused. He looked up, seeing Adelah's stare on him. She was polite, like she was waiting for something. Lance felt his heartbeat against his throat. ­

"Ah, sorry, let me translate." Zidane turned to him, and as he spoke, his eyes darkened very slightly. The change in color was an apology; he'd messed up on adding an extra language.

Lance focused on the question. What village did he come from?

Beside him, he felt an energy coming from Zidane. He was leading Lance in a certain direction, almost like he had with feeding him the introduction. Carefully, Lance focused on the energy, trying to piece together what Zidane was wanting him to say. The emotions lightly flared, almost dangerously close to Adelah sensing it. Noting the urgency, Lance started speaking, letting the words come.

"Rejen. It's a small population, off the Juin River. I traveled around a lot, but that's where I originated from."

Adelah nodded. "I've heard about Rejen. It seems like a very peaceful place."

Lance gave a smaller nod, looking down towards his food. "It is. I've always admired the flowers there."

He used the razor-sharp utensil wrapped around his ring finger, cutting off a piece of whatever this disc-shaped thing was. There was no tendons, nothing to suggest it was a meat.

"So you know Yittek?"

His eyes shot up at the question and instantly Zidane's emotions flared. Once again, Lance followed the intuition, allowing it to guide his words.

"Uh, yeah. I'm interested in Razaleks, small villages in particular. I'm looking to study under Yittek."

Adelah raised her eyebrows. "Really?" she said, staring for a moment. Her eyes briefly shifted to Zidane. "So that's how you two know each other, then?"

Zidane's emotions confirmed the question as Lance replied. "Yeah, we met through him."

Adelah nodded again, turning down to her food. She lightly took a small portion of the fluffy, off-white substance on her plate. At first, Lance could only assume it was something of a vegetable; it almost looked like mashed potatoes, but beneath the soft exterior were small, squishy bead-like balls filled with sweet juice.

Noticing he was staring, Lance looked back down, surprised to hear Adelah's voice a moment later.

"Are you married?"

The question caught him off-guard. He tried to think back, remembering that Adelah herself was married. Zidane was pushing him to answer, and disregarding his own thoughts, Lance began speaking. He felt a light smile crawl up one corner of his mouth.

"Yes, of course. She's also training to be a medical tech. We're planning to meet back in Losin after. Still keeping in touch through messages, of course."

As he spoke, he sensed something in Zidane's energy. Before, he had sensed the color to be a light blue, nearly electric. But now it was much darker, the flame-like intensity dying down. A sadness? Depression?

As if on cue, Adelah's stare turned to Zidane and, very subtly, she raised one eyebrow. Zidane looked up, meeting her stare. A scowl set onto his face, one that was nothing short of a warning.

"Don't even say it." His words were incredibly quiet; spoken in one light breath.

Adelah shrugged her eyebrows, turning back down to her food. "It's easier than you think..."

Lance jumped as the opposite end of the table was suddenly shoved forward. He looked towards Zidane, seeing his chair tipped back and his foot against the table's edge. But his shoe was different than before; thick straps replaced the non-existent binding of the boots he wore before. This was what he wore with his MOCT uniform.

Adelah stared at him, hands inches away from the table, preventing its side from hitting her bottom ribs.

"You really wanna fight like this, Adelah?"

Adelah's jaw moved once, and it took Lance a moment to realize she was chewing the food still in her mouth. She swallowed, still keeping her eyes set on Zidane's. Her hands didn't move away from the table.

A long, narrow line of light passed along the room, travelling from one side to the other. Lance watched it move over the table, the same line also reaching the wall and around the ceiling. It travelled away, moving toward the other room to their left.

Adelah's stare relinquished from Zidane, going down to the plate below her. Another line came through the room, exactly like the first. It was with this one that Lance heard a brief, incredibly faint ring. He watched it pass through, unable to resist thinking of a radar pulsing out, its circle searching for something.

"Adelah." Zidane's voice was low, shaking slightly. "Who did you invite over?"

His half-sister remained silent, turning her head away. Another line passed through before Lance sensed the lights stop, the persistent energy disappearing. He heard a footstep. The sound was heavy, but when Lance heard a second, smaller step—one that was accompanied by a light dragging—he knew the loudness wasn't just because of this silence. Whoever the steps belonged to possessed a tremendously powerful weight.

He knew who it was. Even before those steps started towards the kitchen area, Lance knew who it was.


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