Chapter Text
The still water of Juniper Valley was truly a sight to behold, a welcome reprieve from the… Well, chaos of the party inside. Chaos Leon wanted no part of. His fingers curled loosely around the old ropes of the tree swing hanging from a massive oak beside the lake, feet kicking just enough to keep it in motion. The swing was set up several yards away from the shore, not so far that the little waves were unobservable, but far enough that he wouldn’t end up taking a swan dive if he were to fall or even jump off like he used to love doing as a child.
In the cabin behind him, he heard the thumping rap music and loud whooping of his older brother Charlie and his friends. Leon sighed heavily, kicking off to swing higher. Charlie was easily the so-called ‘golden child’ between them. He was a star student, sports superstar, had a pretty sorority girlfriend with a bright future — the whole nine yards. He enjoyed some degeneracy now and then, and that was all they had been doing on this trip.
Leon didn’t even want to be here, but Charlie insisted he should come so he could finally get out of the house, get a change of scenery, maybe get some new ideas for that horror game he was working on. Reluctantly, Leon agreed, but initially he didn’t realize Charlie’s girlfriend Rochelle and best friends Kiara and Chase would also be there. Not that they were bad people, necessarily. Rochelle had been nothing but sweet the entire trip, and Kiara and Chase were a little crude, but more humorously than obnoxiously, with the brunette and redhead casually cracking jokes about her own tits and his hairy armpits on the way up. It was… Alright, he supposed.
Until they got drunk.
It didn’t take long for the slowly forming amity he had formed with the seniors to crumble once they got shit-faced. The laugh-out-loud crudeness had become unbearable, and Rochelle was apparently a sad drunk, so she wasn’t much fun to talk to now, and Leon had never been the best at comforting people, especially not people who were currently on liquid courage. Or, liquid depression. He could barely stand the smell of it as it was. Charlie could hold his liquor alright, though, and took to cheering his gal up with some stupid dance moves and a purposely terrible parody of ‘Shut up and dance with me.’
He almost wished he got it on video. Almost. But ultimately, the overstimulation proved to be too much, and Leon instead retreated outside sometimes around lunch and had stayed out there since. Now, the sun was slowly dipping beneath the horizon, casting the sky in shades of ocher, burned orange, and flaky gold.
It was… Nice.
Part of Leon felt bad for ditching the party. He was what most people considered unbearable -refusing to drink, smoke, party, gossip, and especially dating. Somehow he was lucky enough to still have the boyfriend he first started dating in his second year of junior high, and he had no idea how Jason put up with him. Abysmal at conversation, on account of his nervous habit of stuttering and uncomfortably long pauses between answers or interrupting the other person. He tried so hard to fit in, he sabotaged himself. Charlie was of course used to this, and his friends genuinely had no issue with it. Kiara had said something earlier that hit close to home: There was a time when none of us were ‘cool,’ right? They weren’t always so comfortable with themselves, either. Of course they weren’t, most people had that period in their lives, Leon knew. But it was much more than that in his case.
When Leon was eight or nine, he contracted a deadly infection in his lower tibia that rapidly spread and splintered the bone as it grew and left him unable to walk. It had been festering for over two years before he finally noticed the pain in his foot, and by then, it was almost too late. He was hospital-bound for two years, and while he didn’t know it, there was a point in time when he almost flatlined.
Now all that remained of that time was a narrow, slightly discolored line of skin on his ankle, a measly four or five inches long, where the doctors drained the poisoned blood and eventually managed to scrape the ruined tissue from his body… And his horribly stunted social growth. He used to be fine with people before all of that happened, but… Not after the hospital. He became overly snappy to people who just wanted to help as he recovered. His mind was filled with dark thoughts of self-hate and worthlessness. He even made an attempt on his own life at just ten years old.
And of course, despite all of that, his parents were still more focused on Charlie’s life. The most care they had ever shown for him was during his infection, and even then, they went right back to fawning over Charlie once it was over. And no one felt worse about it than Charlie himself. So, his maternal grandparents, Marguerite and Black Hoof, more or less raised him in their place. They had a strained relationship with his mother long before he was even born, but after the neglect began, it was worse than ever. Charlie didn’t get to spend much time with them because of it, as much as he wanted to and as much as their maternal grandparents also loved him, their mother made excuse after excuse to keep Charlie away. So, Charlie missed out on much of the relationship Leon had with them.
It was pretty unfortunate, he always thought.
The creak of the old patio door had Leon turning his head to see Charlie, significantly sweatier and more shirtless than he remembered, grinning like a jackal. He jogged down the steps and over the cobblestoned path to the tree, breathing heavily. The boom of heavy bass and almost-intelligible lyrics from a rap song he vaguely recognized escaped through the open door before it slowly drifted shut on its own. Leon snorted, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Whoa, what happened to you? You look like you just ran a marathon!” He chuckled. Charlie stopped beside the tree, leaning heavily against the thick trunk to catch his breath. “Oh, y’know, just partying hard.” He panted, arching his back in a stretch. A loud series of cracks and pops resulted. Leon snorted again. “Really? What could you possibly have been doing to sound like a damn glow stick?”
The brothers both laughed a little, a wide, toothy smile taking over the younger’s face for the first time in a while. Charlie sighed, looking out over the lake water, whistling. The sun had set far enough that the water reflected its vivid colors. “Damn, that’s pretty.” Leon hummed, nodding. “Yeah. I gotta hand it to ya, Charlie: you sure as hell know how to pick a vacation spot.”
Charlie cracked his knuckles, working out the kinks in his neck. “Wish I could say I did. Chelle found this place.” Figures, Leon thought. If anyone had an eye for scenery, it was Rochelle. “I should have known.”
They sat in a brief but comfortable silence for a moment, looking out over the shining pool of the lake and the trees behind it. It truly did look like something out of a painting.
“Hey, Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
“Why… Didn’t you tell me you were bringing your friends out?”
Charlie was silent for a moment, slowly rubbing the back of his neck, carefully weighing his next words. “‘Cause I knew you wouldn’t come if I did,” He said at last. Leon pursed his lips in displeasure.
“You know I don’t like getting blind-sighted.” The younger said curtly, kicking off to swing higher again.
Charlie sucked in a deep breath through his nose, running a hand through his messy dark hair. “I know I’m sorry. But… Y-you can’t just avoid every social interaction for the rest of your life, man. You have to get out sometimes!”
“I did agree to come, I just don’t like getting surprised by a couple of strangers-”
“Leon.” Charlie’s tone became oddly serious now, giving his younger brother pause. “I love you, man, I do, but I’m worried about you. You’ve been a shut-in since, what, fifth grade? Probably hadn’t had a playdate in even longer. You don’t talk to anyone, ever. That’s not healthy. ”
Leon swallowed hard, grip on the swing ropes tightening. “... In my defense, Mom and Dad never wanted me to bring friends around… Or go to anyone’s house…”
Charlie nodded, gesturing vaguely in agreement. “T-that’s fair, but Kenu and Nanna would’ve let you go hang out with them! They’re worried, ‘bout ya, too. It’s not… Good to be so isolated, you get me?”
“Yeah…” Leon murmured. It was true his grandparents had also been worried about his non-existent social life, and how it only deteriorated further as he got older. “… I think I make other people uncomfortable…”
Charlie crossed his arms, leaning back against the old oak. “Being awkward isn’t a crime, dude, you get better at-”
Leon cut him off. “It’s not just that, and you know it.” He bit out. Charlie’s eyes widened briefly before softening in realization, and he let out another loud sigh.
“Leon, listen to me: there is nothing wrong with you, okay?” He promised, dead serious now. It was almost unsettling to see his usually fun-loving, laid back brother like this. “You are allowed to be whatever the hell you want, however you want. You’re not hurting anyone, and if people take issue with it, then they need to fuck off and mind their own business.”
“No kidding.” Leon huffed. Some of his more unpleasant social interactions were with several rather… Aggressive strangers who singled him out for his unconventional, effeminate exterior, calling him vile names and accusing him of various things. Leon could take a little ignorant name-calling, he wasn’t spineless, but it was a different story when the perpetrators were four strange men who could easily bench press him all glaring him down as if he had committed some grave offense against them, all the while leering at his much smaller, slimmer form like he was a juicy steak.
It made his skin crawl to remember. And it probably would have gotten much worse that day if he hadn’t been in the campus’ resident cybercafe during rush hour. Several other students, including two of Charlie’s hockey teammates who recognized him, had gotten between the strangers and Leon as the manager called security to have them removed, still spouting horrible insults as they left.
That hadn’t been the first time such a thing happened, either. And there was no doubt in Leon’s mind it wouldn’t be the last. All the more reason to stay home, he figured.
“I swear to you: those people are an ignorant, but vocal minority.” Charlie continued. “I know that.” Leon gritted out. “I still don’t want to deal with them!”
“You can’t let them dictate your entire life!” Charlie implored. “That’s what they want! They want to make you feel inferior-”
“And more than a few are willing to fucking rape or beat me to do it.” Leon snapped suddenly, seething. He didn’t need a lecture now, not about this. However worried his brother was, that wasn’t his battle to fight, and especially not a battle Leon wanted to be fought for him. He had to take care of himself, right?
“I’m not gonna share a space with them if I don’t need to, okay? And yeah, it is technically a minority, but I have no way of knowing who’s a part of it! I don’t know who I’m safe with, Charlie! Man, woman, whatever, I make people so uncomfortable just by existing in the same room as them that they take personal offense to it! It’s easy to go out and have fun when that’s not an everyday threat! Rochelle and Kiara probably know what I’m talking about, but even then, neither of them gets harassed for just… Using the fucking bathroom!”
Hot, angry tears filled his eyes and clouded his vision. Leon reached up to slip off his glasses, wiping his tears with his other arm quickly, only to have new tears replace them, “And on top of all of that, I just suck at talking to people. It’s just… I-it’s not worth it. ”
A long, heavy silence hung between the brothers now, the only sounds the creaking of the swing ropes and the ruffle of leafy branches overhead. Charlie was at a loss for words for the longest time. This wasn’t a truth he was unfamiliar with. When his little sister came out as his little brother, he wanted to understand. Leon’s issues weren’t so simple to put into words like love. Charlie always figured that was why there was such a stark contrast in the acceptance: Most people have been in love and know what it looks like, but few people have their own minds turn against their physiology and the many social aspects centered on it. It was cruel, and if he could take it all away from his little brother, he would in an instant. But he couldn’t, so the best he could do… Was try. For Leon’s sake.
“I know I can’t really understand it.” He said after a moment. “Not fully. Words just don’t… Describe it well, I guess. But I swear on my life, if the worst did happen to you, I will be there. For every second.” Now it was Charlie’s turn to cry, it seemed, his voice cracking hard. “And what if you can’t be?” Leon drawled. “You’re just one man, Charlie. You can’t be there every second of every day of my life.”
“No. I can’t.” The elder of them admitted, trying to steady his voice and wipe his tears. “But I’ll try. And if that’s not enough… I won’t let it go unpunished. Ever.”
Leon felt a chill run down his spine at the promise. What did that even mean? He was almost afraid to ask, and the only time he was ever afraid of something his idiot older brother did was when it was something outrageously stupid or gross, like when he stuck his ex-girlfriend’s expensive electric toothbrush in the toilet after she cheated on him in junior year. Even then, that was the ‘God, I’m going to die of second-hand embarrassment’ kind of scared. Not fear. Granted, it wasn’t for himself, it was just an overall unease.
“Don’t stay out too late, okay?” Charlie said after another pause. “Remember what Kenu used to say? The spooks come out after dark.” His tone, while significantly lighter and more playful, was still uneasy as he slowly turned and headed back into the cabin, stopping at the door to look back at him for a moment before turning the handle and heading inside.
Slowly, Leon turned to look back out over the lake, turning his brother’s ominous words over in his head.
What the fuck was that about?!
—
From the opposite lakeshore, T’ai’ja observed the tense exchange with keen interest. The two seemed to be kin, possibly siblings or cousins, judging by the similar hair colors and unusually pale eyes. Their conversation was largely unclear to even his keen ears courtesy of the distance, but their body language and the smaller one’s sudden rise in body temperature told of a conversation taking an unsavory turn. A slight rise in cortisol levels in the two, mostly the smaller one, indicated the larger had said something to displease them.
Switching off his infrared vision, T’ai’ja changed over to standard mode and zoomed in with his mask camera to get a better look at the oomans in question.
The taller of the two was clearly male -broad, tall, muscular, with a thin sheen of sweat over his peach skin that soaked into and weighed down his thick dark hair. He was shirtless for unknown reasons, only clad in brightly colored trousers that only reached his knees. Both were young adults.
The second, smaller ooman was significantly more interesting.
A female, though she had a much closer-cut hairstyle than most female oomans T’ai’ja had observed. Red frames with two lenses, ‘glasses,’ he believed they were called, sat on her pink nose, thick eyelashes fanning her bright eyes. They almost reminded him of polished jewels, lovely ethereally only a creation of Paya could be. Slim, delicate fingers held onto the thin, frayed rope of an old wood swing hanging from a tree beside the lake. Clad in a loose, flowy white sleeveless tunic and even shorter white trousers than her compatriot, the hunter was allowed a full look at her lean limbs. She wasn’t muscular like the male, but she wasn’t thin either, still with enough fat on her bones to fill out her hips and thighs and give her upper body some structure. A slight curve in her upper torso indicated her low breasts. Her small feet were clad in loose sandals made of that strange ‘rubber’ oomans were so fond of.
While he was completely lost on what oomans considered attractive, T’ai’ja found the soft little creature strangely endearing. He wondered briefly what it would be like to feel the soft flesh in his massive hands, how much smaller she would be next to him.
He decided to take a closer look
Leaping into a nearby tree, T’ai’ja took great care to conceal his thunderous approach as he traipsed from tree to tree, pushing off one trunk to the next until he perched mere yards from them. Despite his towering size, the hunter barely rustled the branches as he drew nearer, the biggest indicator of his presence now the silence of the surrounding wildlife. The silence of prey attempting to hide.
Neither ooman noticed him cloaked above, too engrossed in their heated discussion to pay attention to the sudden silence. He could make out their conversation now.
“And on top of all of that, I just suck at talking to people, anyway. It’s just… I-it’s not worth it.” The female sniffed. T’ai’ja’s mandibles flared, but he resisted the urge to click in warning. The little female was indeed in distress over something the male said. Something ignorant from the sound of it. She was a mere fraction of his size, unable to stand up for herself compared to most males of her species, let alone this one.
Ooman females were already much more naturally submissive than Yautja females: a byproduct of their typically smaller stature and millennia of male-dominated societies. There was always an exception, of course, and such females made for honorable opponents, but taking one’s head was still frowned upon. Ooman males often abandoned their mates to care for pups alone, with little to no regard for what happened to them. Killing an ooman female, even in an honorable fight, could potentially mean orphaning any pups she may have waiting for her, and there was no honor in depriving young of their mother.
Just as there was no honor in antagonizing a female half your size.
Fortunately for this male, he redeemed himself after an uncomfortable pause.
“I know I can’t really understand it. Not fully. Words just don’t… Describe it well, I guess. But I swear on my life, if the worst did happen to you, I will be there. For every second.” He was the one crying now, voice breaking as tears filled his eyes, a rare occurrence among males of this species. They believed showing weakness to be undesirable. Ironic, T’ai’ja thought, as Yautja were the polar opposites.
“And what if you can’t be?” The female drawled. “You’re just one man, Charlie. You can’t be there every second of every day of my life.”
The male, ‘Charlie,’ it seemed, continued, proving to the hunter he was no threat to the little female. “No. I can’t.” He conceded, steadying his voice and wiping away his tears. “But I’ll try. And if that’s not enough… I won’t let it go unpunished. Ever.”
He spoke with the conviction only an elder sibling could: a promise to protect, care, no matter what came their way or the consequences of doing so may be. They must have indeed been kin, then, or at least regarded each other as such. Though the female did not seem to share the hunter’s satisfaction, she regarded the male warily. Perhaps it was uncommon for him to be so serious, and it took her off guard?
The male turned to depart shortly, only turning to deliver one more, much less serious warning, bordering on teasing. “… Don’t stay out too late, okay? Remember what Kenu used to say? The spooks come out after dark.”
The female turned back to the lake after he returned to their dwelling, staring blankly at the water. She remained there for a long while, until the sun dipped low behind the horizon, the reds and gold of the sky slowly bleeding into blues and black. Several small lamps embedded in the ground beside the path cast pale halos of light over the worn stones, just barely extending to the swing and leaving only one side of the ooman’s face illuminated, highlighting the round silhouette of her features.
She was… Surprisingly lovely.
T’ai’ja found himself emitting a low, pleased clicking before he could catch it. Immediately, he stifled the sound, resisting the urge to kick himself for giving away his position, especially as the little female whipped around to face him, scanning the tree line for the source of the sound. Her cortisol levels had spiked again, much higher than before, and her heart rate began to pick up.
She didn’t call out, stilling herself. After a moment, T’ai’ja realized she was listening. But there was nothing to hear. The forest was deathly silent.
Slowly, she rose from the swing, one foot in front of the other with great care to not make any sound. She was completely silent, he realized. A stealthy little thing. Slowly, she stepped fully into the light, and T’ai’ja finally got the first proper view of her face.
Round and soft, with full cheeks and a slim pink tongue that darted out to wet her plush pink lips. Wide blue eyes somehow seemed even bigger behind her glasses as she squinted into the dark, trying to make out where the sound was coming from, long, thick eyelashes fanning her eyelids and giving the illusion her crystalline irises were smaller than they were. The short cut of her hair exposed the back of her slender neck and pale expanse of her exposed shoulder blades and part of her back.
T’ai’ja decided then that she was unequivocally, impossibly perfect. Like… What was the word? An ‘angel.’
Of course, it was agreed upon that humans were inherently ‘cute,’ with their big eyes, wide foreheads, and rounded features, they were vaguely reminiscent of most mammalian infants and triggered that deep-rooted, largely useless part of the brain that was drawn to cute things. Many species kept them as pets, or trophies, and his own kind were even known to occasionally take them as mates, though that was exceptionally rare, and rarer still for such unions to bear fruit. But it was plausible. Something he and many others found to be both baffling and somewhat fascinating.
Truthfully, T’ai’ja never saw the appeal. Oomans made fine opponents, even greater allies but mates? It felt… Well, ridiculous, to be blunt. Why take such a soft thing for a mate when Yautja females were perfectly capable? It wasn’t like there was a shortage of them, or that it was just the more aggressive hunters taking them, either. Yautja women favored the more patient, courteous, child-nurturing males over the temperamental, often unpredictable counterparts, so it wouldn’t be so far-fetched for some of them to seek mates who may be more submissive, and while some of them had, it wasn’t just them. No, recently word had gotten out of an Elder female taking an ooman mate. An Elder female! And not only that, but she claimed the puny male to be her sain’ja -a general term for warriors, but an endearment among lovers, a god-chosen partner.
T’ai’ja considered it utter madness! Until… Just now. He felt an undeniable pull toward the little female, an interesting urge to follow her, a fascination that extended past merely understanding prey and teetered on the edge of a more passionate interest that caught him thoroughly off-guard, yet he didn’t necessarily dislike.
Maybe… This was it?
The arbiter’s wonderings were put on hold as a scent reached his nose: the distinct, earth-and-blood scent of dia-shui -the musk of another, all too familiar, hunter- close by. Too close for his liking
Seems he wasn’t the only one intrigued by the curious female.