#Shirayuki is also an alien - she's able to grow herbs/plants from her skin

[ruleofexception]

Unheavenly Creatures

Somewhere in the distance, a bell begins to cry and the first rays of daylight stain the sky.

Time’s up.

Making quick work to clean and sheath his blade, Obi stares down at the pool of crimson slowly spreading through the cracks and crevices of the polished balcony, and chuckles sadly to himself.

For a man who liked to think himself a titan, the colour of Kain’s blood is unarguably human.

Truthfully, he’s a little upset that a monster like Kain is only human. Even if he was one of the Ancients.

When he’d accepted this job, he’d been half hoping that the colour to stain the marble floors would be the violet of a titan or the glowing cyan of ice rorcs.

Or, at the very least, it could have been burgundy. He could have been a hybrid and it still would have alleviated some of this dread that sits so heavily in his gut.

But, of course, Kain only bled red. The man responsible for so much heartache and destruction across the system, had only been just that. A man. Though, he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised.

Most monsters bleed red.

The pharmacy is quiet, this time of day - when the sun has only barely crept over the edge of the horizon and the only other beings awake on the grounds of Wistal are the night guards.

It’s peaceful. Relaxing.

And it seems it’s the only time of day she has to herself, anymore. Ryuu won’t be in for another hour - and Garrack another hour beyond that. However, after the doors open to the public, it’s anyone’s guess as to how many beings will come in with ailments or questions.

Taking a sip from the steaming mug of chlorophyll, Shirayuki smiles softly as her gaze flits about the vacant, dark office and her heart gives a gentle squeeze.

She may jest that she’s hardly able to find a moment to herself, but it doesn’t bother her. Not really. The work she does fulfills her and the people she’s met here have quickly helped to ease the pain caused by those she’d left behind.

Though, it’s still difficult to believe that it’s been a year since she’d fled the Tanbarun Colony and found herself here, in the Clarines system. Here, in one of the most powerful cities in all the realms, working for none other than The Wisteria family.

Sometimes, it doesn’t feel real.

If she hadn’t lived through it, she might think it some sort of lavish fairytale - complete with epic battles against space pirates and a blossoming romance with a prince. A human prince.

Well, perhaps not an actual prince. Although she’s not sure how much closer to royalty Zen’s family could be.

His father is an Ancient - one of the last three remaining, actually. Which is, somewhat of a big deal. Meaning Zen and his brother Izana are also somewhat of a big deal.

Not, that Zen’s lineage or status truly matter to her.

Nibbling at her lip and certain that a blush has started to work its way into her cheeks, she chuckles and starts to move about the office, turning lights on as she goes, signifying the start of a new day.  

Shit.

Gritting his teeth, Obi stares up at the wall of white stretching into the sky. The orb, gripped tightly in his left hand, seems to grow hotter and heavier by the second.

If he doesn’t think of something quick, he’s screwed - either he’ll be caught and arrested, again, or the star being held within the orb will start to meltdown, subsequently destroying everything within a star-sized radius. And judging by the size of the orb, it’s a big fucking star.

Ideally, he’ll find an escape route and then swing back for the containment cooler.

Not so ideally, he’s dead.

Maybe he should have studied that hologram a little longer. If he had, perhaps he wouldn’t be cornered like some common thief. But, naturally, he’s a total fucking dumbass and only memorized the easiest route to and from Kain’s chambers.

But it’s not his fault there was a morwick star just sitting there, ripe for the taking. They must know how much this sucker is worth in the Desolate and, yet, they’d carelessly left it unattended.

If anything, he’s doing them a favour by swiping it. If he didn’t steal it, he wouldn’t be teaching them a lesson in security, right?

Angered voices and hurried footsteps call after him, echoing through the small alleyway, and his sides ache pleadingly in response. The skin where his pydra emerge, ripples and stretches wantingly, but he locks his jaw and forces them to remain concealed.

If he wasn’t holding a goddamn sun in his hand or if he hadn’t committed actual regicide only hours ago, perhaps he’d entertain the idea of letting his extra limbs out for a little stretch. Let them get some much needed exercise and practice.

However, now is not the time to grow careless and expose himself as a pydramelia - if he did, it’s practically guaranteed that he’d be tagged and monitored for the rest of his life. Not to mention, they’d most certainly clip him - effectively forcing him to keep his pydra out at all times. There’d be no more hiding. No more walking about freely, blending in as a human or-

“There he is!”

Shit.

Spinning on his heel, Obi presses his back against the wall and casually moves to hold the burning star behind him. At this point, he’ll be surprised if this ends without his hand having nerve damage. This thing is dangerously hot. Even for a star.

The shopkeep he’d swiped it from stands quietly at the back of the alley - sweat drips down his forehead and his cheeks are puffed out and splotchy from having run halfway across the city. Probably the most exercise the man’s gotten in years. The jacked cop beside him, however, means business.

An uncomfortably large gun rests easily in his hand, its scope holding steady over Obi’s heart. The cop’s voice is about as gruff as he looks, “You’ve got nowhere to go, son.”

Think, idiot. Think.

“H-hand over the morwick and I won’t press charges!” the shopkeep is every bit as annoying as Obi’d figured; though, his voice seems far too nasily for his body. It’s an unpleasant whine. Like the elephant gnats on Yuris.

Eyes darting about the alleyway and hand screaming in pain, Obi grins when he catches sight of the containment cooler clutched in old elephant-gnat’s grubby hands.

It’s risky, but it could work. It’s not like he’s got any other options.

Taking a cautious step forward, he withdraws the star from behind his back. “Very well, I accept. Did you know this thing gets real fucking hot? Think I might have scorch marks.”

The cop snorts and lowers the gun slightly; something in his gaze tells Obi he wants to make a comment about stars being literal flaming balls of gas, but is trying to be professional about it. Which is fair. And impressive. If the roles were reversed, he’s not sure he’d be able to refrain himself from calling him a moron.

Another step and Obi shakes the orb in his hand, “C’mon, I’m gonna have no fingertips left for fuzz to ID.”

Standing straight, the shopkeep moves eagerly towards him - cooler open and ready - which is when Obi stops in his tracks, grinds his teeth and grips the star tighter.

It can’t be.

Beady black eyes stare at him greedily as the tip of the shopkeep’s barbed tongue slides out from between his curled lips like a silent threat. Skin twisting and yellowing, the telltale scales start to form - first around his eyes, then up his cheeks and across his forehead. In a matter of seconds, the shopkeep’s true form is revealed and Obi has to focus on keeping his breakfast from making an appearance.

Just his fucking luck.

Give him titans, rorcs or… or even a human. Just not a goddamn slinc.

Lowly, parasites of the system. Nearly undetectable just by looking at them. Real friendly, too, until they reveal themselves and fill your veins with a deadly cocktail of who-the-fuck-knows-what.  

Without so much as an inhale for warning, the slinc attacks and the cop slumps to the ground; a barbed stinger lodged in the back of his neck. The skin around the stinger instantly begins to swell and turn a putrid shade of green. Obi doesn’t bother to look for signs of breathing. He already knows the man’s dead.

Taking an uncertain step backwards as the slinc stoops down to retrieve the fallen gun, he desperately searches the alleyway for options. For an escape. 

A cruel grin twists the slinc’s features and his tongue slithers out from between pointed teeth; another stinger in place and ready to shoot.   

An edge of panic starts to worm its way into his mind as the slinc grows nearer and the star continues to sear his hand. 

Think faster, idiot.

Mug half empty and forgotten beside her, Shirayuki eyes the tiny supply containers before her, with a frown. If she’d realized how low they were on some of these, she’d have come in earlier.

But there’d been no indication or note as to how critical their supplies had grown. Ryuu hadn’t even come knocking on her door, as he so often does, asking if she could spare an hour to replenish.

It’s strange.

Usually, when there are this many containers below half capacity, Garrack has her drinking enough chlorophyll to sustain all of the watsi trees on Koto, just in preparation for the amount of replenishing she’d have to do. There’s been none of that, though.

And she could have sworn the containers hadn’t been this critical, her shift two days ago? Perhaps she’ll check with Ryuu when he gets in, to see if there’s something she’s not aware of - like a reorganizing or a contamination.

A sickening thought flickers through her mind and she refocuses on the purple hepril leaves growing steadily from the smooth emerald skin of her forearm. Brushing a careful finger along the tips of their leaves, watching as they shudder under her touch, her frown deepens.

If the supplies were somehow contaminated, it couldn’t have stemmed from her - she can’t be contaminated or polluted. They’d made certain of it. All of the trials Garrack had come up with - from pollutants to poisons - had had no effect on the health or integrity of her or what she grows. Which would mean a contaminant would have had to make its way into the lab some other way to infect their supplies.

Reorganization of the supply containers might make sense - it’d be just like Garrack to keep half of the supply within reach, where the entire pharmacy staff is aware of its whereabouts, while transferring the other half to a new system. And it certainly wouldn’t be the first time this year the supply room received an overhaul and new filing system.

If Ryuu would only get here, she might be able to settle this and put her mind at ease, because if it’s not reorganization - and it is contamination or just a natural depletion of supplies - they may run into issues by mid afternoon.

As it is, it’ll take her most of the morning to replenish the kerpa and lenyiz leaves - they’re always more difficult to grow and their development time is far longer than that of hepril leaves or gyron buds. And, after that, she’ll need at least another two cups of chlorophyll before starting on the daspir vines. Those are always the-

“Shirayuki?” Ryuu’s tired voice, accompanied by the light tromp of footsteps, floats through the pharmacy and she releases the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“In here!” taking a stand, being careful of the hepril on her forearm, she moves towards the doorway, eyes trained on the first sprout - only a few more minutes and they’ll be ready.

One down, only about 8 more species to go. She’s exhausted just thinking about it.

Rounding the corner, still focused on how the purple leaves are now edging with navy, she sighs dramatically, “Hey, Ryuu, how come you didn’t mention we were nearly out of-”

“Miss Shirayuki?”

A voice, not belonging to Ryuu, startles her into silence and she looks up with a squeak. Armed guards fill the hallway. Heavily armed guards. 

“Y-yes?” Confusion knits her brow and she tries to look discreetly past the man looming before her, in search of Ryuu, “How may I assist you? Are you, or your men, injur-”

“Take her.”

With a dismissive wave of his hand, the guard turns and walks stiffly through the throng of soldiers, who seem to have come to life.

“Take me? Wha-” The two men closest to her, reach forward and seize her wrists, destroying three of the hepril leaves in the process and she cries out angrily. “Let go of me!” 

A weak attempt to pull her wrist free results in yet another precious leaf being crushed, but the men ignore her and start dragging her towards the exit.

Somewhere down the hall, Ryuu screams after her.