Hinnom looks like ze's going to burst into tears: there's already yellow pinpricks at the corner of zir eyes, and you feel like you've been called on in the middle of lecture, because you don't know what to do.
You're certain you're not pale for Hinnom, or any other colour; your friendship is the platonic camaraderie of lonely near age-mates in a city hostile to your respective castes. But you'd do anything to stop the way they look right now.
"It's okay," you say, and oh, no, now you're starting to sound distraught. If Hinnom starts crying, you're going to cry, and then where will you all be? Hinnom and Pheres won't have to worry about the drones: judging by the alarmed looks Riccin is giving the two of them over Pheres's head, the psionic might save the drones the effort and cull them both just to escape the tears. "It's okay!" you say again, urgent, as much to calm them as to soothe Riccin. "They're just going to run our symbols and IDs and make sure no one is dying."
Hinnom's lusus is climbing out of zir shirt and wrapping around zir neck, the oversized mandibles clicking with what might be distress. You want to pat zir shoulder, or maybe hug zim, but the mandibles and each set of legs are coloured with bright, poisonous red, so you bunch your hands on the side of your tunic instead, worrying the fabric with your claws.
[and hinnom is like twelve] [fourteen?] [sAME DIFFERENCE]
You're certain you're not pale for Hinnom, or any other colour; your friendship is the platonic camaraderie of lonely near age-mates in a city hostile to your respective castes. But you'd do anything to stop the way they look right now.
"It's okay," you say, and oh, no, now you're starting to sound distraught. If Hinnom starts crying, you're going to cry, and then where will you all be? Hinnom and Pheres won't have to worry about the drones: judging by the alarmed looks Riccin is giving the two of them over Pheres's head, the psionic might save the drones the effort and cull them both just to escape the tears. "It's okay!" you say again, urgent, as much to calm them as to soothe Riccin. "They're just going to run our symbols and IDs and make sure no one is dying."
Hinnom's lusus is climbing out of zir shirt and wrapping around zir neck, the oversized mandibles clicking with what might be distress. You want to pat zir shoulder, or maybe hug zim, but the mandibles and each set of legs are coloured with bright, poisonous red, so you bunch your hands on the side of your tunic instead, worrying the fabric with your claws.
It's already ruined from the sewers, anyway.