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View an easy to read web version of Astray on my website, along with PDF and EPUB versions.
Astray is a science-fiction drama about leonine-like kethirr working through the trauma that threatens to rend them apart. These guardians and aid-givers must find solace among themselves, least their hearts grow as bitter cold as the long nights of their world, Thirrik.
Chapter synopsis: Nevrra may have finally taken the first steps to connect with Qrreia, but it isn't long until she's reminded just how estranged she is from the rest of her vah.
Content warnings: N/A
<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>
Last revision: June 1, 2025 - Fixed a missing comma. This is the only changes since the recent major update.
The longer Nevrra spoke, the more Qrreia seemed to relax. Her shoulders were still pulled in and her eyes kept avoiding Nevrra’s. She kept her tail still and listened while saying little—but her ears were up and attentive, and she leaned a little forward while listening. The rigidity in her posture was gone and she no longer looked like she was likely to bolt to the door.
It was an improvement. That was all Nevrra could reasonably ask for, but she knew that there was still far, far to go. They were vah, but they were not close. They lacked the fundamental bond that should have been there. Nevrra cared about Qrreia, but she hadn’t yet found her love for her. She was confident Qrreia felt the same. After all, Nevrra had given her no reason to love her. The scar along her arm was impossible to ignore, and so was the fact that she had decided to keep it. That Nevrra had never spoken to her of it felt like a dereliction of her responsibilities, both as an Errant Blade and as vah. It many ways, it was, and it was only one of the myriad derelictions she was guilty of.
“I wish I could have known them,” Qrreia said. She was quiet, like she always was.
“I wish that, too,” Nevrra replied. Her head bowed, but her vision was clear. The haze that often settled in her mind was, for the moment, held at bay. Yet, what remained was as barren and withered as the Thadkrri’ik. “I also wish you could have met me as I had been.”
Qrreia ran a hand along her scarred arm. Her ears lowered and she glanced over her shoulder to the wall behind her. Larrin’s cabin was on the other side. “Some of the others talked to me about you.”
Nevrra was not surprised. Larrin and Kedarr had also evidently told Qrreia plenty about Surrha, and she had clearly recognized several of the stories Nevrra told her. That also hadn’t surprised her. Surrha’s vah merged with Nevrra’s long before Nakril, and they had been the other members of it. No matter how close Nevrra had been to Surrha, they had known her longer and loved her fiercely.
Little of what Nevrra said about Zarnik and Harriq seemed new to Qrreia, too. And why would it be? Nevrra had met Zarnik when she was a cub, but so had Durrnok. Both Grakul and Varrina apprenticed under him just as much as with Durrnok and her. Harriq had apprenticed along with them, and he had been kind, and brilliant, and well-loved. Why wouldn’t the others tell Qrreia of their beloved fallen?
Nevrra had no doubt she was the only one who hadn’t. It had been two years, and they had been vah for much of that time. No one should call her “Sa-Vrrithkar.” How could she claim to honor her kar when she could not care for her own vah?
“Oh, uh, it’s okay.” Qrreia started to reach a hand toward Nevrra before pulling it back again. “They said nice things.”
Nevrra straightened in the seat again. Her tail lashed, and Qrreia shied back. Nevrra winced and her ears briefly splayed back. “No,” she said quietly. “I am annoyed at myself, not you.”
“Oh.” Qrreia seemed to relax a little again, but Nevrra was certain she lost some of the ground she made. “They said you were really caring, and that you—” Qrreia cut off as the door buzzed. She jumped in her seat and barely avoided hitting her head against the top of the cubby the bed was built into.
Nevrra flicked an ear. It was far from a sure thing, but she suspected she knew who it was. Nevrra recognized the shirt that had been on the chair, and picked up Larrin’s scent from the moment she’d walked into Qrreia’s room. With a resigned sigh she looked over to Qrreia. “Fine if they enter?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.”
“Enter,” Nevrra called to the door.
She waited. Nothing happened. Nevrra let out a long sigh and sank back into the chair while rubbing at her eyes. “She always needs to be so—”
The door slid open and Larrin gaped at Nevrra. “What the actual fuck is going on here?”
“Dramatic,” Nevrra finished with a low rumble at the back of her throat.
“Normally you train in the gym or outside,” Larrin commented as she walked into the small cabin. As usual, she wore black; although the loose-fitting, long-sleeved robe’s fabric was so thin as to be nearly translucent. She leaned against the door frame, but reached over and pressed the button to close the door behind her. “Or are you lecturing her on the responsibilities of an Errant Blade again?”
“Careful of your tail,” Qrreia said through a wince.
“I knew where it was, don’t worry.” Larrin briefly dropped her act to assure Qrreia, but promptly resumed it after. “Anyway, what’s today’s lesson? I’m sure I can help demonstrate what not to do.”
“For fucks sake.” Nevrra shook her head and started to push herself up from the seat. “I’ll leave you two be.”
“Hey, hey.” Larrin raised a hand up to forestall Nevrra, though the veteran Errant Blade stood regardless. “I don’t want to interrupt. She’s telling you about last night?”
Nevrra paused. She leveled her gaze on Larrin for a moment, before turning it to Qrreia. “What happened last night?”
At the seriousness of Nevrra’s tone, Qrreia sank back again. “Nothing, really. We were out at a stick pit. It was good.”
“Yeah, and a Vrrithkarvah got real offended at the audacity of her being karinv.” Larrin growled as she added, “Fucker.”
“It’s fine...” Qrreia demurred.
Nevrra’s tail lashed and one ear flicked. She looked from Qrreia to Larrin and then slowly nodded. “I see. I am disappointed.” Nevrra suppressed her own growl, but it was hard. “To put it mildly.”
No kar truly treated karinv well. Every kar was a network of mutual aide, and through those networks, kethirr had all they needed to live comfortable lives. Kethirr without a kar, however, had nothing. If they wanted anything, they needed to strike some sort of agreement with kethirr who could help them. Otherwise, they were left to fend for themselves if they wanted to survive. Both Qrreia and Larrin were fortunate enough to be in a vah that could offer that help—though Larrin could have become Vrrithkarvah. Nevrra’s irritation over her constant refusal still lingered, no matter how unfair she knew it was.
Vrrithkar was supposed to be more open-minded toward karinv. Whoever it was should have at least asked Qrreia about her vah first. Then, they should have been wise enough and kind enough to leave her be. However, as far as Nevrra was concerned, they should have left her be regardless. She was still a person worthy of respect and a measure of well-being.
“Name?” Nevrra looked at Larrin. She doubted Qrreia would tell her without coaxing, and coaxing would only serve to further hinder Nevrra’s earlier efforts.
Larrin shrugged. “I didn’t talk to him. Varrina did, though.”
“Ah. Then he knows his error.”
“Looked that way when he was fleeing.” Her eyes glimmered and tail raised in a bitter delight.
She’d still need to look into it. Nevrra no longer felt worthy of the honor, but for now she was still Sa-Vrrithkar. It was her responsibility. Even if she wasn’t Sa-Vrrithkar, Qrreia was vah. That mattered even more.
“It was still a good night anyway.” Qrreia gave a small, single-shouldered shrug. Nevrra wasn’t quite sure if she was covering the pain or if she simply was too accustomed to interactions like that. She hated how likely it was both.
“Would’ve been better if Kedarr wasn’t being an idiot.” Larrin let out a sharp breath through her nose. “I just finished giving him an earful.”
“Over what?” Nevrra asked.
“Acting like you.”
Nevrra stared impassively at Larrin, awaiting a more detailed explanation. It came from Qrreia instead. “He stayed back to check over the Wandering Horizon’s systems.”
“Of course he did. We just finished a long flight,” Nevrra said with a dip of her head to the side. “I can see why he’d want to prioritize that before we head to Rraqil. I did request only a brief stop here.”
“Oh, yeah. How did that chat with—” Larrin cut herself off with a shake of her head. She raised a hand up to halt Nevrra’s reply. “Never mind. Later.
“It only takes, what, two or three hours to do a diagnostic like that, right?” Larrin continued. “They had all night to get a meal with us. Durrnok and Haruna were interested before he insisted.”
Had everyone else been invited out? Nevrra’s tail lashed behind her. She let out a slow breath to help force a calm. Larrin’s ears moved back a bit, but she crossed her arms. “You had plans already,” she said. “Besides, you would have declined anyway.”
Nevrra’s ear flicked. She couldn’t refute that, but it took a moment before she could speak again. “Regardless, it’s understandable he would want to prioritize a diagnostic given our timeline.”
“Sure, for someone who is totally fucking ignorant of what’s going on and how everyone else is doing.”
Nevrra’s tail lashed again, and this time she couldn’t keep the flash of anger from rising. Her fur bristled and her eyes bore into Larrin, but she was only met with a bored looking stare. “As I said, I will leave you two be,” Nevrra said in her typically flat voice. Then, she moved toward the door, pressed the button to open it, and walked past Larrin out into the hallway.
“Fuck. Wait, wait, wait. I’m sorry.” Nevrra was halfway to the flight deck before Larrin caught up with her. She felt the darker furred woman’s hand at her arm and Nevrra came to a stop. “Look, you and I both know I’ve got a talented tongue, but I still haven’t learned how to keep it from getting me into trouble.”
Slowly, Nevrra turned her head to look back over her shoulder at Larrin. “That is what you’re going with as an apology?”
“See what I mean?”
Nevrra jerked her arm out of Larrin’s grasp before turning to better face her. “The Thadkrri’ik has more green than you have sense.”
“No, like—” Larrin started before cutting off. Her now free hand raised up to pinch at the bridge of her nose. “Look, this is frustrating, okay? I’m fucking frustrated. This is hard.”
Nevrra watched Larrin. The other woman’s ears were splayed to the sides and her shoulders slumped. Her tail drooped behind her, but her back was rigid with an obvious tension. Despite herself, and despite how justified she’d felt in her annoyance, the embers of her anger cooled. Tentatively, she took a step closer and placed a hand on Larrin’s shoulder.
Larrin let out a long, ragged breath. She stepped forward and rested her forehead against Nevrra’s shoulder and held her arms around her. Nevrra kept her hand on Larrin, but she didn’t know what else to do—or, at least, she was unable to get herself to do it. “I do my best with Qrreia, but I’m not Surrha,” Larrin whispered. “I do my best to help keep the vah together, but again, I’m not Surrha—and I’m not you.”
Nevrra’s fingers tightened at Larrin’s shoulder and she closed her eyes. “Evidently, neither am I,” she said, quietly. “But you do not have to be. You are yourself, and that is more than enough.”
“No it isn’t.”
Gently, Nevrra coaxed Larrin back, just enough so that she could look down at her. Nevrra’s ears rotated forward as her attention fully went to the kethirr before her. She still held at Larrin’s shoulder with her hand. “Why?”
“Because Surrha could have helped her, like she helped Kedarr and me; and both you and her actually knew how to look after all of us.” For all her playful jokes and sardonic comments, Nevrra had seen past Larrin’s facade before. Now, as then, she could see the pain in Larrin’s eyes even as they darted away from her own at every opportunity. She saw the karinv that Surrha found struggling to survive, and not the person she pretended to have become. She saw in Larrin what Larrin had seen in Qrreia—and in that moment, Nevrra clearly understood Larrin’s kinship with her.
“And you cannot?”
“I couldn’t even keep myself in my own kar.”
“Tsrreikkar is worse off without you.”
“I deserved it.”
“Vrrithkar would be better with you.”
“I don’t deserve it,” Larrin snapped back.
Nevrra’s head bowed and she closed her eyes. Her nostrils flared with a calming breath. This was an old argument, but one she felt even more ill-equipped to have than she normally did. She held her comment.
“Anyway, you were talking with Qrreia.” Larrin’s arms left Nevrra and she took a step back. “I’m glad.”
“I should have a long time ago.”
“Yeah,” Larrin replied, but without chiding her. “Well, what’s done is done. You did it now.”
“I... did, yes.”
“What were you talking about?”
Nevrra let out a long sigh and raised her head back up again. Her hand slipped from Larrin’s shoulder. “I told her of Surrha, Zarnik, and Harriq.”
Larrin gave a slow nod. “And yourself?”
“Telling her of them tells her of me.”
“Not really?” Larrin’s brow furrowed. She crossed her arms, but it looked more like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I mean, if you paint the scenery around a person, you get their silhouette, but that doesn’t really show much of them, does it?”
“What would I tell her? She said the vah already told her about me.”
Larrin shrugged, but left her arms crossed. “Okay? So? We talked about you. What about what you have to say?”
“What do you expect me to tell her, then?”
“Just whatever. I don’t know. Tell her about yourself; how you see yourself, what you think about, what’s important to you...”
For a long moment, Nevrra was again silent. Then, she let out a frustrated breath of her own. “I don’t know. I barely remember the last few years, and no matter how much you refuse to accept it, whoever I was is no longer here. I don’t know who I am at this point.”
Larrin’s ears splayed back again, but she kept her resolve. “Yeah, well, I’m not giving up hope yet.” She placed a hand at Nevrra’s arm and looked up at her. “Doesn’t matter, though. You don’t know who you are? Okay. Talk about that. Given everything she’s been through, do you think she’s figured out who she is yet, either?”
Nevrra’s ear slowly rotated to the side before flicking forward again. She looked past Larrin and toward Qrreia’s cabin. The door was closed, but behind it was a badly hurt person, and Nevrra could neither deny that nor maintain ignorance over that commonality. Her chest tightened and her tail coiled around her own ankle. “I see your point.”
Again, she reached forward to hold Larrin’s shoulder. Nevrra had known her for a long time, and while she loved Larrin, it was a love that had required time to form—and it was borne more out of their shared connection with Surrha. It was genuine, but it was never quite as strong as Nevrra’s love for Durrnok or Zarnik—along with Surrha, no one had been closer to her than her two oldest companions. Yes, Larrin irritated her at times, but she offered her much-needed levity even more often. They shared enough interests. They liked similar enough aesthetics. Yet, when Nevrra withdrew after Nakril, those shallower commonalities faded.
Surrha’s fiery passion drew Nevrra to her, and they bonded over their mutual drive to better the lives of others. Pain, too, could bond. The shared burden of life as Errant Blades bonded the vah as a whole. Qrreia and Larrin bonded over their shared pain. It drew them closer, much as it had drawn Surrha and Larrin together.
Yet, while they both had been neglected as cubs, Nevrra never felt a deep commonality with Larrin over it. Distantly, she knew that was a pain she had never interrogated deeply enough to connect over. It had never affected her in such an overt way as it had Larrin. Nevrra was, after all, still Vrrithkarvah. She’d never risked that. She’d never acted out because of the neglect. For a long time, she didn’t even accept she had been neglected.
But now, Nevrra did find herself feeling that commonality with Qrreia. They were both lost. Qrreia never had a chance to find herself, while Nevrra had lost too much to know herself. It wasn’t quite the same thing, but on some level, she could understand the pain that Qrreia felt. More than that, she could see how it bonded her with Larrin.
Larrin, who had lost her people and thus lost herself. Larrin, who had only found a way forward when Surrha took her in—only to lose Surrha, too.
Nevrra stared not at her, but perhaps for the first time, into her. Into the loss, the grief, and the regret; all the pain that Larrin did her best to paint over. Her grip at Larrin’s shoulder tightened.
“Uh, Nevrra? Are you—”
Larrin cut off as the aircraft’s comms came alive with Haruna’s voice. “Powering up. Take off in just a few.”
“That was weirdly clipped for her.” Larrin was looking up toward the few discrete holes in the ceiling that had emitted Haruna’s announcement.
It was, though it took Nevrra a moment to register it as she returned to her immediate reality. “Yes.” She let her hand fall away from Larrin again. “I’ll see why.”
Larrin’s head had tilted and she was again regarding Nevrra; this time with an open curiosity. Yet, whatever question she had was left unvoiced. “Sure. I’ll check on Qrreia and settle down for take off, okay?”
Nevrra nodded, but she lingered. Her jaw worked, but when she failed to say anything—or even determine what it was she wanted to say—she turned and began to stalk toward the flight deck.
Astray is a science-fiction drama about leonine-like kethirr working through the trauma that threatens to rend them apart. These guardians and aid-givers must find solace among themselves, least their hearts grow as bitter cold as the long nights of their world, Thirrik.
Chapter synopsis: Nevrra may have finally taken the first steps to connect with Qrreia, but it isn't long until she's reminded just how estranged she is from the rest of her vah.
Content warnings: N/A
<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>
Last revision: June 1, 2025 - Fixed a missing comma. This is the only changes since the recent major update.
Chapter 7
Commonality
The longer Nevrra spoke, the more Qrreia seemed to relax. Her shoulders were still pulled in and her eyes kept avoiding Nevrra’s. She kept her tail still and listened while saying little—but her ears were up and attentive, and she leaned a little forward while listening. The rigidity in her posture was gone and she no longer looked like she was likely to bolt to the door.
It was an improvement. That was all Nevrra could reasonably ask for, but she knew that there was still far, far to go. They were vah, but they were not close. They lacked the fundamental bond that should have been there. Nevrra cared about Qrreia, but she hadn’t yet found her love for her. She was confident Qrreia felt the same. After all, Nevrra had given her no reason to love her. The scar along her arm was impossible to ignore, and so was the fact that she had decided to keep it. That Nevrra had never spoken to her of it felt like a dereliction of her responsibilities, both as an Errant Blade and as vah. It many ways, it was, and it was only one of the myriad derelictions she was guilty of.
“I wish I could have known them,” Qrreia said. She was quiet, like she always was.
“I wish that, too,” Nevrra replied. Her head bowed, but her vision was clear. The haze that often settled in her mind was, for the moment, held at bay. Yet, what remained was as barren and withered as the Thadkrri’ik. “I also wish you could have met me as I had been.”
Qrreia ran a hand along her scarred arm. Her ears lowered and she glanced over her shoulder to the wall behind her. Larrin’s cabin was on the other side. “Some of the others talked to me about you.”
Nevrra was not surprised. Larrin and Kedarr had also evidently told Qrreia plenty about Surrha, and she had clearly recognized several of the stories Nevrra told her. That also hadn’t surprised her. Surrha’s vah merged with Nevrra’s long before Nakril, and they had been the other members of it. No matter how close Nevrra had been to Surrha, they had known her longer and loved her fiercely.
Little of what Nevrra said about Zarnik and Harriq seemed new to Qrreia, too. And why would it be? Nevrra had met Zarnik when she was a cub, but so had Durrnok. Both Grakul and Varrina apprenticed under him just as much as with Durrnok and her. Harriq had apprenticed along with them, and he had been kind, and brilliant, and well-loved. Why wouldn’t the others tell Qrreia of their beloved fallen?
Nevrra had no doubt she was the only one who hadn’t. It had been two years, and they had been vah for much of that time. No one should call her “Sa-Vrrithkar.” How could she claim to honor her kar when she could not care for her own vah?
“Oh, uh, it’s okay.” Qrreia started to reach a hand toward Nevrra before pulling it back again. “They said nice things.”
Nevrra straightened in the seat again. Her tail lashed, and Qrreia shied back. Nevrra winced and her ears briefly splayed back. “No,” she said quietly. “I am annoyed at myself, not you.”
“Oh.” Qrreia seemed to relax a little again, but Nevrra was certain she lost some of the ground she made. “They said you were really caring, and that you—” Qrreia cut off as the door buzzed. She jumped in her seat and barely avoided hitting her head against the top of the cubby the bed was built into.
Nevrra flicked an ear. It was far from a sure thing, but she suspected she knew who it was. Nevrra recognized the shirt that had been on the chair, and picked up Larrin’s scent from the moment she’d walked into Qrreia’s room. With a resigned sigh she looked over to Qrreia. “Fine if they enter?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.”
“Enter,” Nevrra called to the door.
She waited. Nothing happened. Nevrra let out a long sigh and sank back into the chair while rubbing at her eyes. “She always needs to be so—”
The door slid open and Larrin gaped at Nevrra. “What the actual fuck is going on here?”
“Dramatic,” Nevrra finished with a low rumble at the back of her throat.
“Normally you train in the gym or outside,” Larrin commented as she walked into the small cabin. As usual, she wore black; although the loose-fitting, long-sleeved robe’s fabric was so thin as to be nearly translucent. She leaned against the door frame, but reached over and pressed the button to close the door behind her. “Or are you lecturing her on the responsibilities of an Errant Blade again?”
“Careful of your tail,” Qrreia said through a wince.
“I knew where it was, don’t worry.” Larrin briefly dropped her act to assure Qrreia, but promptly resumed it after. “Anyway, what’s today’s lesson? I’m sure I can help demonstrate what not to do.”
“For fucks sake.” Nevrra shook her head and started to push herself up from the seat. “I’ll leave you two be.”
“Hey, hey.” Larrin raised a hand up to forestall Nevrra, though the veteran Errant Blade stood regardless. “I don’t want to interrupt. She’s telling you about last night?”
Nevrra paused. She leveled her gaze on Larrin for a moment, before turning it to Qrreia. “What happened last night?”
At the seriousness of Nevrra’s tone, Qrreia sank back again. “Nothing, really. We were out at a stick pit. It was good.”
“Yeah, and a Vrrithkarvah got real offended at the audacity of her being karinv.” Larrin growled as she added, “Fucker.”
“It’s fine...” Qrreia demurred.
Nevrra’s tail lashed and one ear flicked. She looked from Qrreia to Larrin and then slowly nodded. “I see. I am disappointed.” Nevrra suppressed her own growl, but it was hard. “To put it mildly.”
No kar truly treated karinv well. Every kar was a network of mutual aide, and through those networks, kethirr had all they needed to live comfortable lives. Kethirr without a kar, however, had nothing. If they wanted anything, they needed to strike some sort of agreement with kethirr who could help them. Otherwise, they were left to fend for themselves if they wanted to survive. Both Qrreia and Larrin were fortunate enough to be in a vah that could offer that help—though Larrin could have become Vrrithkarvah. Nevrra’s irritation over her constant refusal still lingered, no matter how unfair she knew it was.
Vrrithkar was supposed to be more open-minded toward karinv. Whoever it was should have at least asked Qrreia about her vah first. Then, they should have been wise enough and kind enough to leave her be. However, as far as Nevrra was concerned, they should have left her be regardless. She was still a person worthy of respect and a measure of well-being.
“Name?” Nevrra looked at Larrin. She doubted Qrreia would tell her without coaxing, and coaxing would only serve to further hinder Nevrra’s earlier efforts.
Larrin shrugged. “I didn’t talk to him. Varrina did, though.”
“Ah. Then he knows his error.”
“Looked that way when he was fleeing.” Her eyes glimmered and tail raised in a bitter delight.
She’d still need to look into it. Nevrra no longer felt worthy of the honor, but for now she was still Sa-Vrrithkar. It was her responsibility. Even if she wasn’t Sa-Vrrithkar, Qrreia was vah. That mattered even more.
“It was still a good night anyway.” Qrreia gave a small, single-shouldered shrug. Nevrra wasn’t quite sure if she was covering the pain or if she simply was too accustomed to interactions like that. She hated how likely it was both.
“Would’ve been better if Kedarr wasn’t being an idiot.” Larrin let out a sharp breath through her nose. “I just finished giving him an earful.”
“Over what?” Nevrra asked.
“Acting like you.”
Nevrra stared impassively at Larrin, awaiting a more detailed explanation. It came from Qrreia instead. “He stayed back to check over the Wandering Horizon’s systems.”
“Of course he did. We just finished a long flight,” Nevrra said with a dip of her head to the side. “I can see why he’d want to prioritize that before we head to Rraqil. I did request only a brief stop here.”
“Oh, yeah. How did that chat with—” Larrin cut herself off with a shake of her head. She raised a hand up to halt Nevrra’s reply. “Never mind. Later.
“It only takes, what, two or three hours to do a diagnostic like that, right?” Larrin continued. “They had all night to get a meal with us. Durrnok and Haruna were interested before he insisted.”
Had everyone else been invited out? Nevrra’s tail lashed behind her. She let out a slow breath to help force a calm. Larrin’s ears moved back a bit, but she crossed her arms. “You had plans already,” she said. “Besides, you would have declined anyway.”
Nevrra’s ear flicked. She couldn’t refute that, but it took a moment before she could speak again. “Regardless, it’s understandable he would want to prioritize a diagnostic given our timeline.”
“Sure, for someone who is totally fucking ignorant of what’s going on and how everyone else is doing.”
Nevrra’s tail lashed again, and this time she couldn’t keep the flash of anger from rising. Her fur bristled and her eyes bore into Larrin, but she was only met with a bored looking stare. “As I said, I will leave you two be,” Nevrra said in her typically flat voice. Then, she moved toward the door, pressed the button to open it, and walked past Larrin out into the hallway.
“Fuck. Wait, wait, wait. I’m sorry.” Nevrra was halfway to the flight deck before Larrin caught up with her. She felt the darker furred woman’s hand at her arm and Nevrra came to a stop. “Look, you and I both know I’ve got a talented tongue, but I still haven’t learned how to keep it from getting me into trouble.”
Slowly, Nevrra turned her head to look back over her shoulder at Larrin. “That is what you’re going with as an apology?”
“See what I mean?”
Nevrra jerked her arm out of Larrin’s grasp before turning to better face her. “The Thadkrri’ik has more green than you have sense.”
“No, like—” Larrin started before cutting off. Her now free hand raised up to pinch at the bridge of her nose. “Look, this is frustrating, okay? I’m fucking frustrated. This is hard.”
Nevrra watched Larrin. The other woman’s ears were splayed to the sides and her shoulders slumped. Her tail drooped behind her, but her back was rigid with an obvious tension. Despite herself, and despite how justified she’d felt in her annoyance, the embers of her anger cooled. Tentatively, she took a step closer and placed a hand on Larrin’s shoulder.
Larrin let out a long, ragged breath. She stepped forward and rested her forehead against Nevrra’s shoulder and held her arms around her. Nevrra kept her hand on Larrin, but she didn’t know what else to do—or, at least, she was unable to get herself to do it. “I do my best with Qrreia, but I’m not Surrha,” Larrin whispered. “I do my best to help keep the vah together, but again, I’m not Surrha—and I’m not you.”
Nevrra’s fingers tightened at Larrin’s shoulder and she closed her eyes. “Evidently, neither am I,” she said, quietly. “But you do not have to be. You are yourself, and that is more than enough.”
“No it isn’t.”
Gently, Nevrra coaxed Larrin back, just enough so that she could look down at her. Nevrra’s ears rotated forward as her attention fully went to the kethirr before her. She still held at Larrin’s shoulder with her hand. “Why?”
“Because Surrha could have helped her, like she helped Kedarr and me; and both you and her actually knew how to look after all of us.” For all her playful jokes and sardonic comments, Nevrra had seen past Larrin’s facade before. Now, as then, she could see the pain in Larrin’s eyes even as they darted away from her own at every opportunity. She saw the karinv that Surrha found struggling to survive, and not the person she pretended to have become. She saw in Larrin what Larrin had seen in Qrreia—and in that moment, Nevrra clearly understood Larrin’s kinship with her.
“And you cannot?”
“I couldn’t even keep myself in my own kar.”
“Tsrreikkar is worse off without you.”
“I deserved it.”
“Vrrithkar would be better with you.”
“I don’t deserve it,” Larrin snapped back.
Nevrra’s head bowed and she closed her eyes. Her nostrils flared with a calming breath. This was an old argument, but one she felt even more ill-equipped to have than she normally did. She held her comment.
“Anyway, you were talking with Qrreia.” Larrin’s arms left Nevrra and she took a step back. “I’m glad.”
“I should have a long time ago.”
“Yeah,” Larrin replied, but without chiding her. “Well, what’s done is done. You did it now.”
“I... did, yes.”
“What were you talking about?”
Nevrra let out a long sigh and raised her head back up again. Her hand slipped from Larrin’s shoulder. “I told her of Surrha, Zarnik, and Harriq.”
Larrin gave a slow nod. “And yourself?”
“Telling her of them tells her of me.”
“Not really?” Larrin’s brow furrowed. She crossed her arms, but it looked more like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I mean, if you paint the scenery around a person, you get their silhouette, but that doesn’t really show much of them, does it?”
“What would I tell her? She said the vah already told her about me.”
Larrin shrugged, but left her arms crossed. “Okay? So? We talked about you. What about what you have to say?”
“What do you expect me to tell her, then?”
“Just whatever. I don’t know. Tell her about yourself; how you see yourself, what you think about, what’s important to you...”
For a long moment, Nevrra was again silent. Then, she let out a frustrated breath of her own. “I don’t know. I barely remember the last few years, and no matter how much you refuse to accept it, whoever I was is no longer here. I don’t know who I am at this point.”
Larrin’s ears splayed back again, but she kept her resolve. “Yeah, well, I’m not giving up hope yet.” She placed a hand at Nevrra’s arm and looked up at her. “Doesn’t matter, though. You don’t know who you are? Okay. Talk about that. Given everything she’s been through, do you think she’s figured out who she is yet, either?”
Nevrra’s ear slowly rotated to the side before flicking forward again. She looked past Larrin and toward Qrreia’s cabin. The door was closed, but behind it was a badly hurt person, and Nevrra could neither deny that nor maintain ignorance over that commonality. Her chest tightened and her tail coiled around her own ankle. “I see your point.”
Again, she reached forward to hold Larrin’s shoulder. Nevrra had known her for a long time, and while she loved Larrin, it was a love that had required time to form—and it was borne more out of their shared connection with Surrha. It was genuine, but it was never quite as strong as Nevrra’s love for Durrnok or Zarnik—along with Surrha, no one had been closer to her than her two oldest companions. Yes, Larrin irritated her at times, but she offered her much-needed levity even more often. They shared enough interests. They liked similar enough aesthetics. Yet, when Nevrra withdrew after Nakril, those shallower commonalities faded.
Surrha’s fiery passion drew Nevrra to her, and they bonded over their mutual drive to better the lives of others. Pain, too, could bond. The shared burden of life as Errant Blades bonded the vah as a whole. Qrreia and Larrin bonded over their shared pain. It drew them closer, much as it had drawn Surrha and Larrin together.
Yet, while they both had been neglected as cubs, Nevrra never felt a deep commonality with Larrin over it. Distantly, she knew that was a pain she had never interrogated deeply enough to connect over. It had never affected her in such an overt way as it had Larrin. Nevrra was, after all, still Vrrithkarvah. She’d never risked that. She’d never acted out because of the neglect. For a long time, she didn’t even accept she had been neglected.
But now, Nevrra did find herself feeling that commonality with Qrreia. They were both lost. Qrreia never had a chance to find herself, while Nevrra had lost too much to know herself. It wasn’t quite the same thing, but on some level, she could understand the pain that Qrreia felt. More than that, she could see how it bonded her with Larrin.
Larrin, who had lost her people and thus lost herself. Larrin, who had only found a way forward when Surrha took her in—only to lose Surrha, too.
Nevrra stared not at her, but perhaps for the first time, into her. Into the loss, the grief, and the regret; all the pain that Larrin did her best to paint over. Her grip at Larrin’s shoulder tightened.
“Uh, Nevrra? Are you—”
Larrin cut off as the aircraft’s comms came alive with Haruna’s voice. “Powering up. Take off in just a few.”
“That was weirdly clipped for her.” Larrin was looking up toward the few discrete holes in the ceiling that had emitted Haruna’s announcement.
It was, though it took Nevrra a moment to register it as she returned to her immediate reality. “Yes.” She let her hand fall away from Larrin again. “I’ll see why.”
Larrin’s head had tilted and she was again regarding Nevrra; this time with an open curiosity. Yet, whatever question she had was left unvoiced. “Sure. I’ll check on Qrreia and settle down for take off, okay?”
Nevrra nodded, but she lingered. Her jaw worked, but when she failed to say anything—or even determine what it was she wanted to say—she turned and began to stalk toward the flight deck.
Category Story / All
Species Lion
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 142.3 kB
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