#nyota saimiri

[nyotasaimiri]

Draws my ladies like they’re a Hallmark movie couple~

[bubblewonderabyss]

@nyotasaimiri Happy late birthday! Here’s Nyota enjoying some leftover cake

[syzygyohmega]

she ain’t forgettin’. 

@nyotasaimiri ‘s nyota and isobu 

[jubilucky]

@nyotasaimiri‘s lovely apex captain, nyota 

[denbroito]

@nyotasaimiri's incredible apex lady @w@

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two (redux) 70

Arjun put a hand on Nyota’s shoulder and guided her over to a quiet corner where she could sit down. She didn’t protest, which said volumes about her current state. Arjun didn’t say anything. Nyota didn’t blame him. There wasn’t much you could say after that. “I am sorry if I have frightened you,” she said quietly to her crew.

Arjun snorted. “At this point, Captain, we’re all used to it,” he said. She looked up sharply and he pressed his thermos into her hands. “Haven’t exactly been yourself in months. Not the yourself I met. Drink some of that. Should calm you down.”

Nyota took the thermos but did not drink. “Explain.”

Arjun held her stare. “Zoning out, cozying up with strangers, since when does our paranoid ex-Knog captain do that?”

Her grip tightened until her knuckles creaked in protest. Nyota knew she should feel angry. She tried to feel angry. It would have been easier than the flat, dull acceptance. “Is this from Lumen’s stash or mine?” she asked, lowering her eyes to the thermos.

“Mine, actually,” Arjun told her. Was there an almost softness in his gruff tone or was she just indulging wishful thinking? “It’s cocoa.”

Sonny watched them and whistled quietly. “This is what ya never told me, huh?” she asked.

“Close enough.” Arjun adjusted his hat and didn’t look at her. “I didn’t want trouble then.”

Nyota opened the thermos and smiled just a little at the tiniest scent of chili powder under the heavy chocolate. “And do you want trouble now?”

She had forgotten he was not as patient as Lumen. Arjun dug his fingers into her shoulder until she felt the sharp pain in her bones even through the thick fur and muscle. Age had cost him none of the strength he built through decades of mining and metalwork. “I want us all to get out of here alive,” he told her softly. “Not going to back out yet. We told Esther we’d find what she’s after. But if our Captain is going to compromise that alive, then we will have problems, ma’am.”

Nyota tensed her shoulders and let him feel just how much muscle was under his grip. “Is this mutiny, Arjun? Or just a tired old man?”

Cold blue light reflected off his visor and hid his eyes. “It is whatever it damn well needs to be. The little lady here would probably like it better if I keep this peaceful.”

“Darn right I would!” Sonny interjected. Arrowmail had to catch her shoulder to keep her from pushing in between them. “Arjun, whatcha even thinkin’ here?!”

He held up a hand to stop her and kept talking to Nyota. “But you know where I stand. Need to know who you even are now. You’re not the Nyota I followed.”

Nyota took another drink, then set the mug down. “I am Nyota Saimiri,” she said, and the calm certainty in her voice made the hair rise on the back of Arjun’s neck. “Whatever else happened to me, it did not change that.”

Sonny flared bright. “She ain’t lyin’, Arjun. I told ya,” she said, pointing at Nyota, “she sure feels like herself. Sure there’s somethin’ else to her, but she ain’t someone else now.” She fizzed sharply, almost a huff. “Told ya before, but I guess that ain’t good enough, huh?”

“Good enough won’t cut it.” Arjun waved her down. “Your word’s good, Sonny, and so is hers. Good as any former Knog, at least, which all of you seem fine to forget.”

“Stand down, Sonny,” Nyota said calmly as green blurred bright behind him, Arrowmail making a soft whine in protest as Sonny got hot under his restraining hand.

“Captain!” Sonny all but wailed. She did stand down, but not willingly, stuffing her fists in her pockets and crackling like a bonfire. “I like the ol’ man, sure I do, but I ain’t gonna sit here listenin’ to him slander you like that! It ain’t right or fair! Sorry, Arrow, it ain’t fair for ya getting’ caught in here either. I won’t jump him, you can let go.”

“Consoling. It doesn’t hurt,” Arrowmail said, patting Sonny’s shoulder as the anger shivered out of her. “I was only worried about you, burning so hot.”

“Arjun is allowed to speak his mind. You all are.” Nyota turned back to Arjun and finally moved his hand off her shoulder. It took effort to keep her grip firm but not too hard, her body responding as if it was on the other end of a compromised line. This place still pulled at her. But she was Nyota Saimiri. She was Captain. Strange lights, strange words, it would take more than that to break her. “Right and fair won’t keep us alive. Neither will good. You want some reassurance that I can still do my job, is that it?”

He straightened up. “Said as plainly as ever. You really don’t mince words, do you?”

Nyota chuckled. “You wouldn’t take it any other way. You want your proof, you watch me. You’ll get it.”

Arjun didn’t budge. “I’ve been watching. That’s why I need the proof in the first place.”

The sheer force in her sudden stare made them all step back. “You’ve been watching me sick and injured, recovering, learning how to be alive. You’ve seen nothing yet.”

Nyota held Arjun’s gaze through Sonny’s approving whistle and Arrowmail’s awed murmur. Arjun watched her, waiting to see if she’d blink. Then he held out his hand. “Get to work then, ma’am. Let’s see it.”

Nyota accepted the hand and let him help her to her feet. “Thank you. Stay close, and pack your scarf tight. We’re in for a cold time.”

“Not too close,” Arjun said.

Nyota caught his eye a moment longer. “Very well.” She waited until Sonny and Arrowmail followed her orders and left the chamber. “Arjun. Judge as you like. I will accept it. But the rules stand for you too. You will not endanger my crew.”

He actually grinned. “Now that’s more like it.”

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two (redux) 99

“They’re almost here, Captain.”

Nyota woke from her doze at the sound of Lumen’s voice. There was something warm pressing on her shoulder. She opened her eyes. Brunette mane, familiar flash of red. Warm—beloved—scent of summer and steel. She smiled.

“Wake up, Lana. Oldarva and Namina have arrived.”

Lana’s face stiffened in a near-snarl for a moment, then relaxed as she recognized the voice and opened her eyes. “You have a comfortable shoulder,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep. Her tone was almost reproachful.

Nyota smiled. “Good morning to you too.”

“Mm. Is it morning?” Lana grimaced and stifled a yawn. “No coffee.”

That earned a laugh. “A woman after my own heart.”

Lana glanced at her sideways and flicked her nose. “I thought we established that.” She sat up and rolled her shoulders in a restrained stretch. “Time to behave. And comb your mane. Can’t interrogate a prisoner that faints from shock.”

“Bah…” Nyota held still as Lana smoothed down the worst of the wild tufts, watching her crew wake up from their own naps. She could feel the quiet tension in them, the anticipation, and felt it fade as the crew watched her receive such gentle affection. So Lana’s antics weren’t just for play. Clever Lana.

A finger ran along her ear and Nyota suppressed a shiver, shooting Lana a dirty look. Lana met her stare, and Nyota caught just the slightest glint of defiance and humor in her eyes. Alright, so some of them were just play after all.

The far door slid open. Lana sat back to watch, hand dropping subtly to the long knife she kept at her hip. Just in case.

As soon as Nyota saw Oldarva and Namina, she knew the knife wasn’t needed. Oldarva carried the small, shivering person, barely protected from the bitter cold by cheap purple fabric. They leaned deeper into the ginger apex as the little group drew near.

Oldarva caught Nyota’s eye with an apologetic smile. “No frostbite yet, Captain, but even the environmental protection pack did not help much out there. We might need a few minutes to warm up.”

Nyota nodded and gestured at the empty space near the small heater they had set up. “Take as long as you need.”

Oldarva sat down, but didn’t let go of her prisoner just yet. This close, Nyota could clearly see the shivering and felt something in her twist with a mix of scorn and pity. Lumen might have called it sympathy. Left alone with nothing but thin rags in this bitter-cold place. She knew all too well what that was like.

Namina squatted beside them and leaned on Oldarva with a quiet unhappy hiss.

Nyota gave him a sympathetic smile. “Too cold for you too, Namina?”

The floran bared his teeth. “Nassty cold,” he agreed, and waved at Lumen. “Lightss-friend, come warm Floran?”

Sonny chimed like a string of bells as Lumen flushed bright and muttered something about shameless ferns. But he got up anyway, and let Namina sling an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t ya get used to this,” he warned, with absolutely no bite to the threat.

Oldarva laughed and leaned against them both, careful not to drop the Occasus prisoner.

As the person looked up at the sound of so many voices, Nyota made eye contact; they didn’t flinch, perhaps too cold to do so. “Are you able to answer a few questions?”

Their voice was very quiet. “I have a choice?”

That earned a small, strange twist to her smile. “I will always give you a choice,” Nyota told them. “This may be different from what the Occasus has told you.”

They stared at her in undisguised wonder. “I think,” they said slowly, the words coming from somewhere very well-buried, “that many things are different from what the Occasus told me.”

Nyota let her smile warm. “Then there is hope for you yet. I am Captain Nyota Saimiri. What is your name?”

Was that a blush? They broke eye contact and looked at Oldarva’s elbow. “I don’t like my name…”

“Then what should I call you?” It wasn’t an unfamiliar sentiment to hear. Rebel apex changed their names all the time, trying to hide their identities or just find one that fit.

The Occasus looked up at Oldarva as if trying to find support—another unexpected gesture. “Gizzie is okay. A lot of people call me Gizzie.”

“Gizzie, then.” Nyota leaned forward and folded her hands in her lap. “I am not yet sure what to do with you, Gizzie. We do not normally take prisoners. We rarely have the opportunity. Most Occasus, in my experience, do not stick around to be captured.”

Gizzie looked around at the crew: four apex, a floran, a pair of novakid, a glitch, and two humans, all sitting comfortably, some eating breakfast together, all watching them. “I think,” they said slowly, “that I am not very much like most Occasus right now. …Ma’am.”

“Just Nyota is fine.” Nyota reached into her bag of supplies and pulled out some dried fruit to offer them. “You may join us for breakfast.”

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two (redux) 96

Lana stared at the door for a few moments before marshalling her voice. “Captain Saimiri,” she said, “I know better than to ask what just happened there. But you should know that you get yourself into the strangest situations.”

Nyota made a sound halfway between a grunt and a snort. “My dear commander,” she said, mimicking Lana’s formal tone, “you don’t even know the half of it.”

The humor faded, taking her energy with it, and she leaned against Lana with a heavy sigh. “If you do not mind, I would like to just stay here for a few minutes. That took a lot out of me.”

Lana sat back and tucked her arms under Nyota’s elbows. “Your medic is going to lecture you.”

“Let him try. He didn’t stop me.” Nyota’s vague scoff sounded more like a sigh this time. “Either way, he has tried to lecture me before.”

She felt the short, deep hum of Lana’s laugh. “I have no doubt about that. Defiant Saimiri.” Lana’s fingers threaded through her bangs and brushed them back away from her eyes. “You should come with me when you are done here. Arkadis will want to hear about what you found.”

“Arkadis… Yes.” Nyota closed her eyes and tried to muster her energy. “Aly said he had tried investigating here before. It’s a wonder the Occasus didn’t hurt him too.”

Lana’s throaty snarl startled her and Nyota opened her eyes again. “Wonder is a word for it,” Lana growled. She caught her temper, let out a long breath, and resumed stroking Nyota’s hair again. “Apologies.”

“Don’t.” Nyota touched her wrist gently. “You can be open with me.”

Lana’s hand stopped, then curled around Nyota’s and squeezed it briefly. “They have harassed him and his camp at every other turn,” she explained. Her voice was calmer and more measured now as she held her anger in check. “We have so much to deal with from the Miniknog. And now these scum join in.”

Nyota hummed and returned the squeeze, trying to push her sympathy into her grip. “How long have they been harassing you?”

“Not quite a year, by the Earth count,” Lana told her after a moment of running calculations. “It has gotten worse in the past few months. You will have to talk to Arkadis for more than that. His camp has borne the brunt of it. We suspect they have a camp nearby.”

“I see.” Nyota fell silent again and turned her mind to her body, the cold brushing bare skin and the dull aches in her joints, the rising warmth of her own life, the rise and fall of Lana’s breath. She had expected to feel stiffer. She probably would feel stiff after a proper sleep. The thought pulled up a short laugh, more of a snort really. Since when do I get a proper sleep?

Laughing at herself was a nice change, but it would not get her anywhere. Nyota focused on her legs, her back, remembered what muscles and joints were (and gravity, cursed gravity). She tried to remember how to move again.

Lana caught her as she fell back with a stifled huff. “Easy there, soldier. You move with the grace of a drunk bobfae.”

“Help me up, please,” Nyota asked, gripping Lana’s hand again, half to steady herself and half in thanks for the catch.

Lana just held her more securely to keep Nyota from trying again and accidentally hurting herself. “You should rest longer.”

“I know. I will.” Nyota locked eyes with her. “I want to be with my crew.”

Lana held her gaze, then slid her arms under Nyota’s back and knees. “Very well,” she said, and didn’t bother hiding the small smirk at Nyota’s sharp inhale as she stood up. “You will let me handle the heavy lifting.”

Nyota was entirely too tongue-tied to reply. No one had ever dared—it was rather nice. And Lana’s face looked nice from this angle. She… might get used to this.

 “Ha, don’t you look comfortable,” Hadley called with a broad smirk as Lana carried Nyota over to them.  

A few dozen snarky replies flicked through Nyota’s mind, as if she was a decade younger and gossiping with an old friend, but she settled for a nearly smug smile and leaned a little more into Lana’s shoulder. “I am very comfortable.” The look on Tarvei’s face was worth it.  

But the humor faded as she examined all of them, from Arrowmail’s fresh dents to the bandage around Sonny’s shoulder. “I should have checked on all of you as soon as I woke up. I am sorry.”

Lumen waved off the apology. “Ain’t no harm in lettin’ yer second handle that, ma’am,” he told her frankly, “since I’m yer medic too.”

Nyota smiled, but shook her head. “And I am Captain. There are some things I need to do personally.” She held out a hand to her crew. “May I ask your forgiveness for the lapse?”

Arjun was first to put his hand on hers. “Just don’t make a habit of it.”

Sonny fizzed and elbowed him. “Oh, knock that off, ol’ man. We all know you settled that, ‘cause you’ve been gushin’ over the cool stuff she found with you this whole time.”

Arjun just grunted and took Sonny’s hand to put on Nyota’s. The warmth of their touch filled Nyota’s heart. The warmth of their trust.

“Fascinated. Is this like that all for one, one for all gesture I have read about?” Arrowmail asked. Sonny fizzed again and pulled his hand in.

Nyota just laughed. “I had been thinking of a handshake, but you can decide this one.”

Hadley snorted, grabbed Lumen’s and Tarvei’s hands, and pulled them both in. “Face it, Captain. You’re stuck with us.”

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two (redux) 86

The door led to a small chamber, smaller than Nyota had expected after witnessing Big Ape’s room and the Avatar of Kluex’s den. As if great threats always liked their rooms vast and intimidating. The floor was strangely free of ice, but not for lack of trying. Creeping ice climbed down the walls and tried to overtake the floor with a thousand tiny cracks and hisses as it turned to steam on contact, turning the air so cold and humid that frost whispered along Nyota’s cheek fur almost as soon as she set foot inside.

Nyota’s earpiece rang quietly in her ear.

“Captain?” Lumen sounded worried. “Yer signal’s sharper’n it was now. Did ya turn back?”

“No.” Her voice held half a question to it, but she had a guess at why. “It must be the vault guardian’s influence. We found the frozen warden’s lair.”

Lumen hissed softly. “Ain’t that a doozy… Ya got a heck of a timin’, Captain. I was ‘bout to call ya anyhow. SAIL’s spotted some small craft hangin’ ‘round the asteroid belt. They ain’t doin’ much yet, not close to the gate or nothin’,” he said, anticipating her sharp throaty growl, “but we ain’t too sure what they’re out here for. I’m doin’ a closer scan. Got Namina on standby in case they ain’t friendly.” He whistled; his microphone turned it into almost a sigh. “I sure don’t like this, ma’am.”

“I don’t like it either.” Nyota swallowed the low snarl as she ran a few short calculations. The timing was almost too perfect… But nothing else had come through here. Sheer foul luck? The drone. She inhaled sharply. Its owners must have received a warning. Or noticed it stopped responding. “Lumen, tell me the moment they make a move toward the gate. We don’t know for sure if they are trouble, but we will be ready if they are.”

Am I getting soft? she wondered as she turned her focus back to the rest of the room. Agent Saimiri would have destroyed them on suspicion alone. But… I am not the agent now, am I?

Arjun was watching her. She couldn’t read his eyes. It did not matter. She was Captain. It was her decision, and no one else’s.

No further time for musing. Nyota felt the warning in a surge of warmth just under her collarbone, just before Arjun’s hand touched her arm.

“Think I found the warden,” he murmured, voice low and tense. “Those carvings aren’t flush with the wall.”

Nyota followed his gaze; a stone figure twice her height and half as broad again sat halfway up the wall. Dark lines ran across it, glinting faintly in the gloom like glass. Her eyes were not sharp enough in the half-light to pick out the shadows, but she knew he was right. The warning rose again, and as if responding, the carving came alive.

Light flooded along the glassy lines, surging white and blue. It pooled in two hollows near the top, like eye sockets in a stony skull, and the figure wrenched itself free with a shuddering crack. It drifted out into the middle of the room, hovering nearly Nyota’s height above the floor without any apparent support or means of flight, shedding ice that in thin sheets that shattered on impact with the tiles. Its head was almost leonine, except for the stone tusks that jutted out of its carved open mouth. Two more lights drifted out behind it, eyes set behind stone carved like the hooked beaks of birds.

Its silence was more unnerving than any battle cry she had ever faced. The warden looked down at Nyota, and she knew she was not welcome.

It wasted no time on ceremony or speech, if it was even capable of either. Nyota grabbed Arjun’s arm and hauled him back as energy bursts shattered at their feet, spreading frost wherever the shards touched. One of the birds smashed into her shoulder and sent her reeling backward. Arjun’s wrench cracked it away.

“This thing has problems,” he panted as he ran after her to avoid a second volley.

“We’re interlopers,” Nyota told him, not caring where the certainty came from. It wasn’t important. “It sees us as a threat to its vault. All change is a threat.”

The old man whistled—he reached the same conclusion as her. “The ancient capricoats.”

“Exactly.” Nyota deflected the second bird with her spear as it tried to ram her like its comrade had. “I would guess that the warden has weeded out anything that… changed too much.”

She could feel the slow horror in him as he processed that through the lens of an archaeologist. “That’s not life,” he said slowly, “that’s just stasis. That’s wrong.”

Nyota looked up at the looming warden. “I don’t think it will listen to that.”

Arjun squared up beside her, more determined than Nyota had seen him before. “Then we fix that.”

[nyotasaimiri]

As the weather warms here, have some summer fun~!

[nyotasaimiri]

[nyotasaimiri]

Have a picture of the ladies to start your night! Nyota doesn’t regret teaching Lana chess, but she might’ve taught a bit too well...

[nyotasaimiri]

Day 17: Embrace

[nyotasaimiri]

Day 9: Spice

(Well, this one mutated!)

Spices- sweet Cultivator of all the stars, spices. Nyota had spent her whole life living on bland ration paste, with the occasional treat of sugarcane for jaw health and fruit if she was lucky. Bug-meat too, if she hunted it herself. She’d long ago accepted that eating was just a function to preserve life. And then she tasted spices. 

Mr. Jonty’s family knew how to spice food better than anyone else. She heard the gossip from the library’s neighbors, and eavesdropped a little more until it became apparent that the library also sometimes hosted local chefs for a potluck meal. Mr. Jonty’s chicken stir-fry was legendary. Nyota had tried chicken: a bland and often stringy meat usually, sometimes thick with oils or painful from excess salt. Sustaining, if not pleasant. But these humans spoke of the librarian’s cooking with reverence, and that intrigued her. She was on Earth now. She was free, yes? She could try some for herself. 

Of course, there was the rule of potlucks: she would have to contribute a dish herself. 

“Cookbooks? Non-fiction, 641. It’s over this way.” Marcy took Nyota’s hand and led her through the shelves. “What are you looking for?”

It was such a familiar ritual now, but Nyota still marveled at how little human fingers felt in hers. She shook her head and focused again. “Something simple. Campfire cooking.” 

“Oooh, planning something special?” Marcy grinned up at her, curious. 

Nyota smiled, playing up the mystery. “You will see.” 

Her hand hovered over a title in 641.6, tempted, longing. Chocolate… Glorious, but expensive. With regret, she moved a few titles left instead. She stayed standing as she flipped through pages, teasing Marcy by shifting the book a little bit, just enough for the title to be visible, not enough for the short girl to read the pages. 

“You play dirty, you know that?” Marcy said. She nudged Nyota’s elbow, laughing. 

Nyota balanced the book in one hand to ruffle Marcy’s hair. “And you play nosy. This will do. May I borrow it?” 

It was a very easy, small recipe. Nyota had most of the ingredients already, scrounged and saved carefully on her library assistant’s wages. Tin foil she hoarded anyway, wonderful saver of leftovers that it was. Canned peaches, a comfort food for a rainy day. Brown sugar, likewise, cherished and parceled, but a community potluck was a worthy occasion to crack the canister open again. Butter was more difficult. She never bought it, usually, without somewhere to store it long-term. She scrounged up enough from breakfast cafe condiment stands over the next few days. 

She got a few curious looks when she turned up with a tote bag filled with little foil parcels on Saturday, not a nice ceramic or glass dish to show off to the neighbors. But no one complained, just offered a hand and a smile. “You’re a new face, ma’am. Welcome! Doesn’t it just smell divine here? That Jonty’s got his big pot out this time. You’re in for a treat. But you look hungry. Have a roll, and let’s get that heavy bag off your shoulder.” 

Nyota accepted the bread with some surprise; so the food was just given, with no proof she had brought her own? But it was good bread, soft and fluffy and buttered just right. And the old woman who gave it to her had such a kind smile. It filled Nyota’s mind almost as much as that smell in the air. 

But that was an unfair comparison, Nyota realized, as she had time to process it more. The scent didn’t fill the air, it overtook it. Bitter-sweet and spicy, wrapped around a meat-scent so savory that it made her mouth water. She was very glad for the roll to hide that. 

The old woman grinned and patted her arm. “It does steal you away, doesn’t it? Reminds me of my grandfather’s kitchen. He would grind all his spices by hand, just like young Jonty here. Not many folks do that these days. But let’s get yours set up too, now.”

The smell of the sugar-roasted peaches snuck in beneath the heavy cloud of the stir-fry, drawing bright eyes and grasping hands from the small children. The old woman swatted their fingers away, scolding, “Not until we’re done! Shoo, go help with the plates.” 

Nyota laughed softly, watching them scurry off. “They are cute.” 

“Cute but greedy,” the old woman said, but her eyes were soft under her stern voice. “Well, we should get you introduced, I think. I’m Tia, though I suppose I’m more of an abuelita these days.” 

Nyota laughed again. “My name is Nyota. I’m sorry I can’t get clever with it. Pleased to meet you.”

“All well and good! Stick close, though I dare say I won’t lose you in this crowd.” Tia took her elbow and nudged her toward the gossiping strangers. It was a blur of people from there on; everyone seemed to know Tia, and Nyota found her head spinning with names, faces, and voices. It should have panicked her, so many strangers. But Tia’s hand was warm on her elbow, and somewhere in the middle of it all, Marcy nudged her way over and pushed a fresh hot bowl into Nyota’s hands. 

“So this is what the book was for? You could have just asked to come, you know! No need to be mysterious about it.” 

Nyota clung to her familiar face and the solidness of the bowl in her hands. “Marcy? What’s this?” 

Marcy took one good look at her and freed Nyota’s elbow from Tia’s hand, guiding her over to someone’s front steps to sit down. “Right. Apex and crowds… Sorry, Tia means well but she’s strict Earther. She does not always get that people come from different worlds out there. You can eat, though. That’s Dad’s.” 

“I am fine,” Nyota insisted. Her accent came out almost mud-thick and her ears flushed pink. 

Marcy patted her hand. “You’re fine, I know.” She sat down beside Nyota and started eating from her own bowl. 

Nyota’s fur relaxed, her stiff shoulders following suit. Eating together, with a friend. Yes. That was right. She stirred her bowl’s contents around, savoring the strange smell, and took a bite. 

And very nearly spat it out again. This wasn’t chicken! It was- She froze, chewed it slowly. It was hot, sweat and tears pricking below her eyes. Pepper, she recognized. Barely that. A bitter pepper, mellowed by cooking. Something meaty, but tender and soft. Was it chicken? Really? The taste was so deep, too much to bear, too good to lose. 

“Hey!” Marcy’s voice snapped through the moment. “Hey, are you okay? Sorry, it’s the spice, right? I get on Tia’s case, and then I forget…” 

“It’s good.” Nyota touched Marcy’s hand, for one wild moment trying to will the sheer depth of taste through to her. She didn’t really have the words, not in what human languages she knew, not in Apex. It hurt, heat searing at her tongue, but it was so good. 

“You sure?” Marcy looked worried still, but she relaxed, slowly. “Chew on the rice, starch cuts the heat. You looked like you were having a moment there.” 

“I was.” Nyota chuckled and stirred her food again, obediently scooping up a mouthful of rice. It did help. Then she took another bite of the chicken and lost herself in the taste again.

[nyotasaimiri]

Day 6: Mask

(Just a simplistic something for this as I play catch-up)

Nyota didn’t get the point of masks. On a practical level, yes, they hid the face and provided anonymity. She liked that part. But humans took them to such a strange level. They built entire outfits around these pieces of plastic and rubber, and went out of their way to make sure people knew who they were behind their disguise. And they had an entire holiday based around it. 

“It ain’t so bad,” Isobu told her, his hands whisper-crackling through her mane as he helped plait it back for the night. “Sure, some of them sure are dumb, and they ain’t easy to see through. It’s like them fancy-dress photos ya see sometimes, just goofier.” 

Nyota tried very hard to hold still. Goofy. Marcy had convinced him to try on some ridiculous horse-head thing earlier that day. “I do not understand why they think the colorful smiling faces are frightening, though.” 

Isobu shuddered. “I dunno either, but clowns ain’t no joke. Just kinda creepy. They buzz ya the wrong way. How the heck ain’t ya scared of them?” 

“Everything buzzes apex the wrong way if it tries hard enough,” Nyota replied, grinning. “I guess I’m just too used to it. And those silly plastic fangs.”

He snorted and tugged at her hair a bit. “Just ‘cause the rest of us ain’t got your big ol’ chompers… Now sit tight, I’m almost done.” 

Nyota held obediently still. His hands felt strange compared to Marcy’s, but Marcy was busy helping her parents get candy and decorations finished for the party tonight. And Isobu was better at the really ornate styles, though he refused to tell anyone where he learned it. He was very gentle as he wove ribbons and twists of gold wire through locks of hair, and that was good enough for her. She turned her own mask over in her hands: a filigree of colorful enamel and gold-painted plastic, like someone had taken a face out of stained glass windows. The piece was a perfect fit for her costume ensemble. Nyota still wasn’t sure where Marcy’s mother had gotten a dress in her size, but it fit like perfection, moving just so as she shifted for Isobu to reach her mane better.

Well. Maybe there was something to the masks. It wasn’t every day that she got to pretend she was a princess.

[nyotasaimiri]

Day 14: Cage

(Let’s be real here, these prompts are an excuse for me to do my favorite things: worldbuilding and character studies)

She could have had it all, and she knew it. Nyota was not the strongest of Apex, not the smartest, but she was cunning, and she knew how to make friends in high places. How to break them, if it came to that. Aram had taught her more than he knew when he brought her along to meetings and high-rank events, and he knew very well what a young apex could learn just standing by his side. Nyota learned how to keep her thoughts off her face, how to smile just so and bury ambition deep, but not too deep. 

And she learned that she hated every minute of it. The confines of little pleasantries. The little desserts stuck on toothpicks. The knowledge that everyone else would probably stab her in the back just as soon as she’d stab them. It was so difficult to move safely in those high circles, and Nyota learned to do it with grace. She wasn’t strongest or smartest, but she adapted, and did so with a smile that almost made even Aram himself forget how dangerous she could be. Some whispered that she could be an admiral in her own right, or ambassador like her mother before her. Nyota took their praise to heart, and threw herself into perfection all the harder. 

The hardest part of all was not to laugh aloud as she smashed her gilded, poisoned cage to pieces. As she staggered bleeding through the snow, half-conscious Novakid on her back and freedom in her hand, and bargained for their safety and lives with strangers who knew kindness better than schemes. As she fled all the glory she could have had, all the secrets she couldn’t carry any longer. 

The world outside was terrifying. Nyota couldn’t rely on the self-interest of others anymore. They danced to different tunes out here, and she had no way of knowing if those tunes were played by Miniknog coin. But their smiles, their smiles drew her in. Rougher, less perfect. Genuine. She didn’t have to wait anymore until someone else ate from the same dish. They took her hands without fear or hidden designs. And slowly, Nyota learned to leave her fear behind. She dropped the pleasantries, and spoke her mind aloud. Made desserts whole and hearty, danced to her own tune. And when hands were offered, one by one, Nyota took them and held them close. Were they new walls? Perhaps. Her new world held her in, just like the old. But her friends’ arms made softer bars.