After propping the door flap open, she finished braiding her hair, then pinning it up in a bun. Updos made her feel more comfortable when she was in a crowd because when her hair was down, she would often feel tugs on it as she moved among the yan-kanat. Not vicious pulls like they wanted to hurt her, but rather like they were curious enough to touch it as she was moving. Strangers were less inclined to accost her hair when it was on top of her head in a neat, braided knot, because it meant they had to be obvious about reaching for it.
She wondered how they would feel if she went around rubbing their head spines just out of the blue, then figured that could be a lot more painful than them touching her soft hair. Rub them the wrong way and she’d end up regretting it. Even with Jotahan, she’d found that out the hard way, accidentally stabbing her hand on the sharp tips of his head spines when she was rubbing them during a passionate moment that caused them to lift with his rising arousal.
She left the housing pod to make her way to the sky lift station that would take her to the temple. Farona waited at the station, which surprised her since the other female lived in the sternum district, in one of the expensive apartments carved out of the sternum itself. When she saw Sarah, she waved in greeting, answering Sarah’s unasked question when she spoke.
“Hello, Sarah. I came here hoping to catch you before you left for the temple. I was hoping to lure you away from your… hobby,” she smirked knowingly, well aware that Sarah could not call it a “job” without shaming Jotahan, “for a first turning meal. I hope you haven’t already eaten. I know a delightful little place on the tip of the right wing district. The views are phenomenal. The best in the whole skilev—and the food is incredible. Some of our circle will be there as well.”
Sarah debated the offer, feeling guilty about ditching her duties for that morning to hang out with a friend. The lore-keeper didn’t treat her like an employee and told her she was more than welcome to show up whenever it was convenient for her during his shift. He was simply pleased that he had a fount of knowledge to draw from to round out his records about humans. It was only Sarah’s own sense of responsibility and need for structure that had her keeping to a schedule.
“What’s the occasion?” she asked, noting that Farona was dressed as always in a fashionable dress, this one a sleek shift instead of the luxurious wraps she often wore.
Farona sighed, waving one hand as if to brush aside an annoying insect. “I find myself at loose ends this cycle. I have taken the rest of it off from my craft-rooms, knowing I would be unable to focus, and now I realize I need something to do.” She gave Sarah a sphinx smile. “I thought, what better way to spend my cycle than with my new best friend.”
The compliment warmed Sarah, renewing her sense of belonging that had been chipped away over the weeks by every resentful glare or sideways glance or curious tug on her hair. She felt like an outsider, and she understood that she was still very new to this place and that made her an oddity among the yan-kanat, but she wanted it to be her home. She wanted to be as happy with Jotahan’s world as she was with him.
Farona and her tight circle of friends had greatly helped in that regard by welcoming her into their number and making their acceptance of her very public so that other yan-kanat saw it, and hopefully learned from it.
“So, will you join us for the turning meal?” Farona asked, her emerald eyes twinkling in the morning sunlight.
Sarah couldn’t resist an offer like that after such a welcome compliment. She agreed, and they hopped on the sky lift with a couple of other passengers, most of whom were already fairly familiar with Sarah’s presence by now. They only briefly glanced her way before returning to their own conversations or contemplations of the views surrounding them as the lift moved along its cable to the skull district, where they could catch another lift to the right wing district.
The views really were incredible at the tip eatery, which was really more like a huge dining stall with open-air seating on a platform built over the edge of the wing. The place was crowded with diners. Many stared at Sarah as she passed, then turned to whisper to their companions. The warm welcomes from the females waiting for her and Farona to join them at a choice table right by the railing overlooking the ocean view helped to make her feel less self-conscious.
Rataka was the first to greet Sarah, and she rose to her feet to give her a hug. Sarah deeply appreciated the gesture even though she wasn’t a big “hugger.” Neither was Rataka, but the yan-kanat woman understood what it meant to the other yan-kanat to see Sarah welcomed in such a familiar way. In a way, their effusive greetings were a kind of theater, telling a story they wanted their audience to internalize. Letting the watchers know that the human among them was not a dangerous stranger, but a fellow citizen they felt safe befriending.
Her gratitude for these women swelled even further as they all took their seats, buoying up the floating feeling she’d started off the day with when she left her home.
She didn’t know if she’d ever stop being amazed by the rapidity of communications in the skilev. Despite not having the ability to text each other, the women had been summoned from all over the skilev by Farona that morning for this turning meal. Word spread through the citizens themselves, messages passed as they went about their business, until they reached their intended destination. It was bizarre that perfect strangers could be trusted to communicate for each other, and do it accurately.
Jotahan said the yan-kanat did have scrying abilities, much like the wizards in a fantasy novel. At least, that was what his description of the process made her think. Yet this ability was rarely used within the skilev, since it took extensive training and focus. If there was a single other yan-kanat around, heading in the direction of the person you wanted to pass a message to, that was generally the most efficient way to do it.
The grapevine in a skilev might be slower than the internet, but it sure seemed to work effectively for the yan-kanat.
The day was beautiful and warm. The cool breezes coming off the sea just barely reached them this high above it, bringing the slight scent of brine that hardly shifted the delicious odors emanating from the kitchen in the back of the food stall.
That food was delicious and perfectly prepared. They even had one of Sarah’s favorites—a Theian tear. The clear, spherical cake was similar to something she’d seen in an online video back on Earth that was made of agar. The Theian tear tasted sweet like sugar syrup, tinged with fermented liquor, and had a gelatin consistency. When the very center was pierced, a slightly savory flavor mixed in with the sweet. It tasted amazing on lightly grilled toast and left behind a light buzz.
Her charming companions topped off the experience, their conversation light, entertaining, and filled with humor and mirth.
Until Ane-ata approached them, her teeth bared in an angry snarl.
Two other females flanked her and several yan-kanat males still young enough to be almost indistinguishable from the slender adult females followed behind the group. Their expressions were avid, but it was Ane-ata’s that froze Sarah’s words in mid-conversation, causing the other women in her circle to turn to regard the approaching female.
Farona rose to her feet, her expression hardening into tight lines, her gaze narrowing on the younger female. “You were not invited, Ane-ata.”