[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/DxUIER1.png[/img][/center] [color=Orange]"I am confused,"[/color] I say, pausing in my action. [color=Orange]"How am I supposed to place my garments of battle regalia in the machine of washing, if you do not want me to remove them first?"[/color] My new friend the native girl Rachel, her hands still shielding her eyes, shakes her head. When the other natives-- the "ass-holes," Rachel calls them-- attacked us upon my arrival, they used a powerful explosive weapon in their attempt to incapacitate me. This weapon, which Rachel has identified for me as a "fucking bazooka" (although I do not see how the act of physical love applies to such a device), left my regalia-- as well as much of my body-- covered in soot and char. Upon sneaking me back to her domicile, Rachel offered me the use of her facilities to cleanse myself and my garments, but as soon as I began to remove them, she demanded that I stop. [color=Orange]"Is this some form of riddle known to your people?"[/color] I ask. [color=MediumPurple]"I just--...I meant give me some time to, I dunno, look away or leave the room before getting undressed,"[/color] she says, sputtering her words with what sounds to be frustration or embarrassment. [color=MediumPurple]"Just stripping down in front of someone, especially someone you just met, it's.....it's weird, okay?"[/color] [color=Orange]".....if you say so,"[/color] I say, though this explanation raises more questions than answers. [color=Orange]"I will wait until you have averted your eyes to begin the clothing removal."[/color] [color=MediumPurple]"I'll get you a change of clothes while you clean yourself off,"[/color] Rachel nods and points to a small chamber on the far end of her small living quarters. [color=MediumPurple]"The shower's in there. The right knob is for cold water, the left knob's hot water. The faucet's a little tricky; you've got to kind of jiggle the handle a few times to--"[/color] [color=Orange]"I am unused to such a device,"[/color] I say as I look into the room, seeing a stall with a hanging curtain closing it off, and a few metallic protuberances sticking out from the wall. [color=Orange]"Perhaps if you could demonstrate, I will watch and--"[/color] [color=MediumPurple]"Absolutely not,"[/color] the native girl interjects. [color=Orange]"I see,"[/color] I say with disappointment, before another thought comes to mind. [color=Orange]"Friend Rachel......am I.....ugly?"[/color] She stops and turns, giving me a quizzical look. [color=MediumPurple]"What?"[/color] [color=Orange]"You act with revulsion when I offer you gestures of affection,"[/color] I explain, [color=Orange]"And the sight of my body or the thought of me seeing yours seems to cause you a great deal of distress. By your people's standards, would I be considered ugly, then?"[/color] Rachel pauses, chewing at the inside of one cheek as she considers the wording of her response, before answering. [color=MediumPurple]"There are people on this planet,"[/color] she begins, [color=MediumPurple]"whose entire life revolves around looking pretty. It's literally their entire career, just standing there in pretty clothes for people to take pictures of them and make everyone else feel bad about how much prettier than them they are. There are giant industries that pump billions of dollars into making outfits for them, getting their hair and makeup just right, finding the perfect diets and workouts for them, surgically enhancing their bodies and digitally enhancing their pictures, a monstrous international corporate machine which operates for the sole singular purpose of making these people look as pretty as possible. And [i]you[/i] -- and I'm saying this purely from an aesthetic point of view-- by comparison, make those people look like diseased sewer mutants."[/color] While her method of speech is strange to me, I get the general intent of her statement. [color=Orange]"So then,"[/color] I say, my eyes welling up, [color=Orange]"I am so ugly, that my very presence contaminates the beauties of your world and makes them ugly as well?"[/color] [color=MediumPurple]"That's not what I said,"[/color] she says, [color=MediumPurple]"I'm saying you're---....[i]*sigh*[/i].....forget it, just forget I said anything, okay?"[/color] I nod, but I do not know if it is within my capabilities to intentionally forget something. Perhaps this is one of those riddles her people seem to engage in, like wanting me to place my garments in the machine of washing without removing them first. I do wish that I had a stronger grasp of her communication, but I was only able to share a psychic meld for a moment. While a connection of lips provides sufficient contact between concentrated nerve endings, it is not the most effective possible connection. However, while there are areas of the Tamaranian body that contain far more nerve endings, and the native people's anatomy seems near identical, I doubt she would be receptive to the suggestion. [color=Orange]"I....apologize for my inexperience with this planet and its customs"[/color] I say, before bowing my head. [color=Orange]"If I have brought you shame, name my punishment and I will atone for it."[/color] Rachel shakes her head again. [color=MediumPurple]"I don't want to 'punish' you for--.....look, just try to figure out the shower the best you can, and I'll get you some spare clothes and start making some tea or something. It'll help relax."[/color] [color=Orange]"But I am not in need of a relaxant."[/color] [color=MediumPurple]"That's for me,"[/color] she says, stalking off to the cooking area of her living quarters while muttering under her breath, [color=MediumPurple][sub]"...have enough to worry about, going to develop a complex on top of all this...."[/sub][/color] It seems I cannot do anything right. I step into the room of washing, and after closing the door so that Rachel is not offended by the sight of me, I disrobe, and begin to analyze the workings of this 'shower' device. Perhaps I can at least clean myself correctly. [hr] [color=Violet]"Look out there, D'orion,"[/color] Queen Komand'r, the Blackfire, Scourge of Tamaran and Crusher of the Weak, said to her manservant as she gestured from atop the gaudy throne she had made from the old statue of the goddess X'haal. [color=Violet]"Look out there, and tell me what you see."[/color] Her grand throne room opened up to a balcony which overlooked the once beautiful city of Tamarus, now a smoldering ruin. The Citadel had been particularly enthusiastic in their sacking of Tamaran's capital, gutting the gleaming towers of their treasures, slaughtering anyone who tried to fight back, and having their way with anyone who did not. Few had been left alive, so much of the slave labor now being used to rebuild the city-- and in particular the royal palace-- to Komand'r's liking, had to be imported from other conquered cities. Of course, the Citadel could merely deploy drones to complete the reconstruction more quickly and efficiently, but the use of Tamaranian slaves was to send a message. [color=Teal]"...I...I see...."[/color] D'orion, a jagged scar across his magnificent bare chest, considered his words carefully. [color=Teal]"I see a city transforming. Transitioning from a weak old regime to a strong new one. I see the tired old ways being swept away for a glorious new era."[/color] Queen Blackfire grinned at her manservant. Pure, placating drivel. She knew he did not believe a word of what he said. She could see it in his eyes; he hated her with every atom of himself. He wanted, more than anything, to lunge at her and bite out her throat, gouge out her eyes, find the nearest heavy object and bash in her skull. But she also knew that if he ever attempted such a thing, his children would be flayed in front of him, and so he remained her faithful, obedient pet. Idly, she activated the electrodes on his collar, and D'orion toppled down the side of her throne, convulsing in agony on the floor. It was delicious. [color=Violet]"Pull yourself up, D'orion,"[/color] she ordered, [color=Violet]"And let me tell you what [i]I[/i] see. I see a million Tamaranians, like you, who believe the fighting is not yet over. Who believe in ridiculous lies about a savior, a champion or a hero who will spark rebellion and overthrow me."[/color] As D'orion struggled to his feet, crawling at the foot of her throne, Komand'r gave him a mocking smile. [color=Violet]"Do you believe in heroes, D'orion?"[/color] she asked, the sweetness in her voice a thin film over the venom in her thoughts. [color=Violet]"Do you believe the Omega Men are still out there, waiting to strike against me? Or perhaps you believe the silly old legends about X'haal returning in Tamaran's darkest hour?"[/color] With a surprising speed, she went from idly lounging to pouncing down on her servant like a jungle predator, pinning his body flat on his back. [color=Violet]"Or do you believe,"[/color] she snarled, [color=Violet]"That my miserable, honorless [i]sister[/i] will come back and save you?"[/color] D'orion avoided her eyes, but she knew the answer. He was one of her father's honor guard, and had been first to swear loyalty to Koriand'r when she assumed the role of Starfire. He would die before he ever gave up hope that the 'rightful' ruler of Tamaran would return to set things right. [color=Violet]"As long as my sister lives,"[/color] she said, straddling the servant, [color=Violet]"people like you will resist me, will hold out hope, will hate and curse and fight me. But only people [i]like[/i] you, D'orion. Not you yourself. No, you will hate me still, but you will love me all the more because of it."[/color] With a hungry growl, Komand'r's hands explored her servant, and she smiled at how much it humiliated him. He glared at her, eyes full of defiance and indignity as she degraded and debased him, and she reveled in it. All of her life, the people of Tamaran had hated her, heaping all of their love and affection upon her sister instead. Now, Koriand'r was long gone, and she had them all to herself. Free to inflict the humiliation and shame upon them that she had felt since the day she was cursed enough to be born. She loved how much she hated them. And in time, they would hate how much they loved her. Still, as she indulged herself, she knew her victory was a hollow one. Only once her sister was well and truly disposed of would her reign be absolute. As long as Koriand'r drew breath, or at least as long as the people of Tamaran thought she did, they would never fully be hers to torment. The flames of the Starfire burn ever bright, their father would say. Blackfire, then, would be the shadow to finally smother it out. [hr] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Kw9EeW8.jpg[/img][/center] Some time has passed since I determined the workings of the shower device and the machine of washing. The cup of boiled leaves that Rachel had prepared for me has grown cold, and the starchy edible shapes she calls 'cookies' sit half-eaten beside it. Rachel has gone to sleep, and I sit atop the roof of her building, staring out at a strange city, on a strange world, under strange stars. This is not at all how I expected my first contact with the people of another planet. I had assumed I would be leading a diplomatic mission, forging some powerful new alliance for the glory of Tamaran. I would be at the head of an emissary fleet, the occasion marked with feasts and festivals and explorations of exotic delights. Perhaps I would find wondrous works of art and beauty to enhance our own culture, or work with their scientists to achieve some revolutionary breakthrough, or meet a gallant and honorable male to join my host of prince-consorts. Instead, I come as a refugee, fleeing my own world in disgrace and defeat. Instead of a palace, the place in which I stay is little more than a hovel. Instead of melding the cultures of two mighty and beautiful worlds in glorious harmony, I seem to create only dissonance and stress. Instead of a muscular and heroic prince or knight-general to woo me, I am intruding into the personal life of an impoverished witch-girl who finds me revolting yet offers me protection like a stray animal. Countless light years away, my people suffer. My sister, under the rule of the Citadel, is tormenting the living and defiling the remains of the dead. And there is nothing I can do to stop her. I am close to giving in to despair. [color=Orange]"Oh X'haal,"[/color] I call to the great Fire Goddess, [color=Orange]"what am I to do? If you are truly there, I ask only for a sign so that I--"[/color] [b][i]CAWWW! C-A-W-W-W!!!![/i][/b] A black, feathered animal appears from out of the night sky, its claws tangling in my hair as it beats its wings against the sides of my head. [color=Orange]"Away! Release me!"[/color] I shout, swatting at it with one hand as I charge a star-bolt in the other. However, after the confusion of a few seconds, it untangles itself from my hair and flutters down to the rooftop, where it snatches up one of the uneaten cookies. After realizing it was not an enemy, merely a creature looking for a sweet, I giggle, and let the black winged creature have the rest of them. I did not wish to say it to Rachel, but in truth I found them revolting myself. My musing interrupted, I float back down through the window to the small loft, and prepare to sleep upon the futon which Rachel had prepared for me, when I hear a sobbing from her bed. [color=Orange]"[i]Friend Rachel?[/i]"[/color] I whisper as I approach, [color=Orange]"[i]Are you all of the right?[/i]"[/color] I look at my sleeping hostess, and see that she is tightly curled into a fetal position, trembling, her breath coming in gasps and sobs. [color=MediumPurple][sub]"....n-no....don't.....I'm n-not.....s-s-stop....."[/sub][/color] she says in her sleep, her eyes wet with tears. When I had established the psychic meld upon meeting her, I briefly saw her mind as we kissed. She had constructed thick, hard walls around herself, barriers to keep others out of her mind. Even so, I could feel the suffering behind those walls. Her dreams are painful ones, full of fear and sorrow. She is an innocent, who is in need of help. I may be defeated, disgraced, and hiding away in exile, but I am still Starfire, Light of Hope and Champion of the Innocent. If I cannot help my people at this moment, I can at the very least help her. I lie down beside my new friend, and placing a hand on her shoulder, I send her thoughts of peace, of calm, and of loving warmth. [color=Orange]"[i]You need not fear, Friend Rachel,[/i][/color] I whisper my assurance. [color=Orange]"[i]The flames of Starfire burn bright. And no shadow shall ever smother them out.[/i]"[/color]