Dreamstorm, Chapter 1, Scene 1 (Patreon)

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“Say again?” Jahir said, but the flush of rising pleasure made it clear he’d heard Vasiht’h clearly. It was that flush that inspired Vasiht’h to repeat himself, for the pleasure it gave them both.

“Luci would like to know if we’d be willing to attend her wedding.” Vasiht’h spread the invitation. “She’s having it on Seersana, in the university’s religious row, believe it or not.”

Jahir set aside his own tablet, cupping his mug in long fingers. “Is she? I wonder why. Did she say?”

“No, so we’ll have to ask when we get there.” Vasiht’h glanced at him. “We are going, aren’t we?”

“Oh, we must.”

Vasiht’h grinned down at the invitation. It was spare, which was in keeping with Lucrezia’s personality… which had been atypical for homeworld Harat-Shariin, but perfectly suitable for a colony-bred pard who’d had non-standard desires. “We’ve got a month before we have to show. That gives us plenty of time to move our schedule around.”

“And find a gift?” The mindline carried a flavor, like that anise liqueur they’d tried once and found so puzzling. “Is that customary?”

“I… don’t know, actually.” Vasiht’h thumbed down, looking for detials. “I think the homeworld ceremony involves the family giving the guests gifts, but Luci might be doing something differently. Let’s see… ah, here we go. ‘Gifts welcome but not necessary,’ it says. And ‘Donations to genetic research foundations suggested.’ Maybe that means she’s marrying a non-Harat-Shar?”

“Or perhaps it is a cause her work brought her into contact with.”

“Or that.” Vasiht’h laughed. “Goddess, I can’t wait to ask her.”
 “And to see the university again?”

“And that.” Vasiht’h set the tablet down. “Do you want to, too?”

The Eldritch considered, looking down at the steam rising off the mug. “It was a good place for us both.”

Was that humility? Reserve? Or something else? Vasiht’h could appreciate the Eldritch’s pauses, but they were never simple. Nothing about an Eldritch was simple. “It was.”

“Why then would I not wish to?”

The mindline wasn’t suggesting anything; it remained washed with Jahir’s sunlit pleasure at the news of Luci’s forthcoming nuptials. Probing was probably a bad idea, but Vasiht’h couldn’t help trying, just a little. “I don’t know. Going backwards maybe? It’s been five years. Longer than that, a little. We’ve moved on.” He paused, trying not to wince as he really listened to that. Saying that five years was long for a Glaseah would only compound the error. Or hastening to say that time was relative, and five years could be a long time?

Gently, Jahir said, “We never leave behind those things that form us. And as I am grateful for the events that shaped my life on Seersana, I would be glad to return.”

Vasiht’h sighed, smiled. “You always know just what to say.”

“Not always,” the Eldritch said, “But sometimes. Sometimes.”