“Can you show me the picture of the lemur again, Peppa?”
I jump slightly, having drifted off into my own thoughts without even realising. Ritika is seated next to me today, hopeful eyes flitting between me and the tablet before me. Across the table, Bart rolls his eyes and simply continues his turn. We’re in the middle of playing a space-themed version of Uno— ironically fitting. We chose this rec room and this late hour to play because we all tend to get a little… enthused about it.
I bring up the picture on the tablet, pushing the flatscreen device towards her. With a squeal of barely-contained glee, she takes it into her hands and coos.
“Glad you managed to escape death for another day,” Taupaz speaks up, low, soft tone barely reaching your ears through Ritika’s obnoxious fawning.
“Barely,” I snort, recalling Seamus’ barely-impressed visage when I returned a few hours ago. “It’s not good enough, but it’s a start.”
“That’s what he said, huh?” Bart asks, attempting to make the most of the momentary distraction to discard more cards than is allowed. Taupaz smacks his hand without even needing to look. Chastised, Bart grumbles and plays a legal move.
“Yep,” I sigh, nudging Ritika so she actually takes her damn turn and I can play. It’s not often we all have an evening free of work that aligns with the others, and I don’t want to waste the opportunity. “I think anything short of a full feature documentary on the Rheians is going to disappoint him, at this rate.”
“Probably,” Ritika agrees, placing down a plus four card. “Sorry.”
“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” I grumble, begrudgingly playing my own plus card I had been saving for when the direction got reversed.
“You did what he asked, though? You came back with an observation log on one of the natives.”
Bart’s words are surprisingly serious, which is unusual for him. I can’t help but appreciate the brief moment while it lasts. Historically, he tends to say something afterwards that completely ruins the sentiment of the first thing.
I let out a sigh before I can stop it. “Barely.”
I did encounter a Rheian earlier, but my ‘observation’ lasted for all of three minutes. As soon as the Rheian female (I’m guessing, based on the similarities in our anatomy) got the fruit she was picking, she was crouching with strong legs coiled and then the next second she was gone, form disappearing into the trees.
Which means that although I was returning with an observation like requested, it was also a somewhat… disappointing observation. It was mostly visual, commentary on the figure and features. I didn’t exactly have a wealth of behaviours to record.
But, well… I’m also sort of to blame. I spent most of the time simply staring, mesmerised, after all. I could barely help it, though. The Rheian was standing there looking like an extraterrestrial goddess; everything about the visual was majestic. Her limbs had been long and strong, but each movement was filled with grace. When she shifted it was fluid, reminding me of a cat slinking across the top of a fence, with just a hint of the power that lay beneath her skin slipping out. I also hadn’t been able to stop glancing at her tail, wondering whether it was something they always used like she did or if it was mostly for decoration with minimal ability. I could go on and on, because honestly there has barely been five consecutive minutes all evening where I haven’t been thinking about giant purple aliens.
“You’re doing the lords work,” Ritika’s chortle brings me back from my reverie, and I look around to see my tablet back in front of me and her card being placed on the pile. A whole round had pretty much gone by while I was off with the fairies, but it didn’t matter much — she skipped me, anyway.
Grumbling, I lay my cards down flat on the table since it’s going to be another round before I get a turn, anyway. That is, if no one wins before then — I don’t like the look of how few cards Taupaz has, and turn my gaze to my own hand. On the back, they’d turned the ‘o’ in Uno into a little planet reminiscent of Jupiter.
“I must thank you for finding my future alien wife so quickly, Peppa.”
I can’t help the loud snort that escapes me — I might have waved her off before, but these aliens are seriously some of the most beautiful beings I have ever laid my eyes on. So instead I answer, “You’re welcome.”
Bart groans, partly because Taupaz made him pick up and partly at my words. “Don’t encourage her — I’m seriously worried one of these days we’re going to wake up and find her not in her room, but instead frolicking naked out in the woods.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that before,” Ritika muses, and Bart lets out an even louder groan. “Do you think they’d like me? We have pretty similar anatomy from what you’ve seen, right, Peppa?”
“Yeah,” I answer, somewhat distractedly. The thought flits across my mind, would they like me? I quickly throw that errant thought into my mental recycling bin. “They’re pretty similar. At least, the females seem to be.”
The conversation resumes around me, and I barely keep up enough to play my turn. I don’t tune in when they shift to talking about an incident that occurred with one of the armed personnel in my absence. My thoughts aren’t with the game or their chatter, but instead out in the lush, wild forest beyond the cold steel of the base walls.
Surprisingly, I’m excited to go back out again.
/ / /
I figure that my best bet is to return to the spot where I was yesterday. I feel somewhat pressed for time, though I’m unsure where exactly this sense of urgency is coming from. Perhaps it’s because I can’t come out tomorrow; it’s my scheduled clinic day, and from nine to five I am fully booked out with patients from the base. Seamus might be having me run around like an intern with this task, but I am still a qualified Clinical Psychologist, and there is a job I was hired to do.
I remembered my food today, and even though I’m not a fan of the bar from yesterday I bring it anyway, just in case. If the lemur makes an appearance again, I certainly won’t be complaining. I brought some trail mix for it to try as well. A little treat, if it likes it.
It’s a little hard to find the spot from yesterday afternoon, even with the help of the tablet’s location software that tracked my every step and turn. It’s pretty hidden away, and I end up walking past the small entrance a few times before realising what it is and heading in. Almost immediately after doing so, I halt and hold my breath.
Contrary to how I spent most of the day before, currently I am not alone. I crouch down and move to the side ever so slowly, hiding behind a wild emerald shrub with ticklish fronds. I can’t believe my luck, honestly. It seems inconceivable to happen upon this after having such a dry spell all week.
Laughing and clambering up the tree with small hands reaching for the bulbous fruits, are what I can only presume to be Rheian children. Their faces are round and youthful, and if I had to give a comparison then I would say they look kind of like human children at the age of eight or so. Except, well, these kids are massive and probably reach my shoulder already. And that’s an estimate that takes my pride into consideration.
The only fat on their bodies resides on their cherubic faces and soft bellies. Their limbs are all athletic and powerful, allowing them to spring from branch to branch with ease, dangling from them by one hand without a care in the world. Their tails aren’t as long as in their adult form, and where I saw horns on the Rheian female are only nubs on these children, in various stages of growth. They are all dressed similarly, too, in that same breezy gossamer that is layered over itself until opaque.
It is impossible to discern the gender or sex from a glance, but I suppose that puts them all on equal footing. The one highest in the tree is cackling, the end of each sound rising in pitch like a hyena. The others are similar in their sounds, but not to that extent, so I don’t feel like its something I can generalise.
I struggle not to laugh at how cute they are, the ones in the tree throwing fruit down for the other two. They call to each other like they do, the higher ones yelping in protest as one of the children on the ground takes a sneaky bite without waiting.
It’s so… carefree and pure, this interaction. I feel like my eyes are burning as I watch, but dismiss the notion as ridiculous. I had a perfectly fine childhood, there’s no way I am getting emotional watching this.
Eager for something to distract my thoughts, I reach for the tablet and power it on, tapping open the app I was instructed to use for my logs. Taking a breath to clear my mind, I return my gaze to the playful children and begin my second real observation.
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