Cassius does not stop immediately when Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros stops, merely closes the distance between them until he is close enough to touch (and even then, he teeters dangerously close to invading Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ personal bubble, the heat of the man drawing him in so).
His attention on Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros does not waver in the slightest, even as Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ mismatched eyes do.
You’re in orbit right now.
Cassius opens his mouth, a question on the tip of his tongue -
You know. Space. The space just around the planet, in fact.
- and closes his mouth immediately after, new questions sprouting forth even as the weight of Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros sinks in.
Cassius is no longer on Earth. No longer upon familiar soil. Instead he is above it. In… space. In that blackened curtain his Garden’s sky is a poor imitation of, where the moon hangs bright and the sun warms his skin and the stars -
The drone returns in twofold now, Cassius’ expression lighting up as much as his otherness will allow (which is, of course, not a lot).
“We are in the sky?” he asks, pushing a little more into Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ personal bubble. “How is this possible, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros, when we are in a ship? Are they not meant for sailing through the ocean?”
"Well, sort of. A bit above the sky you'd see from Earth, if you're going to get technical. I'd rather not. Never much of a cosmonaut, myself." Not until circumstance made one of him, anyway. He still doesn't necessarily understand much outside of the basics - what one needs to keep a spaceship afloat and alive and not drifting mindlessly through space full of corpses. Hugh teeters back on his heels a bit, not entirely willing to be the one to take a step back for fresh air and admit defeat. He can practically feel that humming in his bones. "
God he's really close. Hugh makes a grand sweeping gesture with his arm that ever so coincidentally carries him back a step, gesturing at the air around him. The room, the ship itself. Space.
"And this - different sort of ship, although they're both very much for sailing. Star sailing, you might call it. It's a spaceship." He sounds downright proud now, practically beaming. "The Protogonos is her name. Roughly, I don't know - twenty five thousand people in her belly, give or take a few hundred every time new ships come around. There's a good twenty others out there, but don't let them fool you - the Protogonos is by far the best."
It is most certainly not. But he's not about to admit that.
"Would you like to stop by the viewport before we head to your room? Get a look at open space? You wouldn't believe the view up here, without light pollution. More lights than you could ever count."
Cassius watches as Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros steps away, gesturing in a way that Cassius could ever only hope to imitate (and even then, it would not be the same, would not be so lively). His gaze follows Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ hand and then beyond it, trying to imagine what, exactly, a ship made for sailing between stars would look like.
The thought squirms out of his grasp not long after, because -
Because Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros speaks of this "spaceship”, of this Protogonos, in the same tone of voice Cassius feels when speaking of his Hunter. He can understand this, he thinks, even if he cannot understand, cannot imagine, the things that Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros can. Things like how does one sail through space without water? Or how can a ship be a ship, but also a woman?
Cassius does not know, does not ask to know, because Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros brings up something much more important.
Twenty five thousand people in her belly, give or take a few hundred.
“Oh,” Cassius says, once more closing in to feel Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ body heat. “That is good, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros. The Hunter will not go hungry then.”
He doesn’t linger this time, instead opting to move passed Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros towards the door. He pauses to look over his shoulder (neck twisting just a little more than a person’s would, head bending at a little more awkward of an angle), worms shifting in anticipation.
“I would love to stop by this ‘viewport’, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros. I am eager to see the stars without your... 'light pollution'.”
Now, he should've assumed a hunter would be hunting people, probably. But fuck, maybe Hugh wanted to hope for once. Imagine this thing of Cassius' was hunting - self-fulfillment or some bullshit like that. That maybe it was metaphorical. No, no. Silly him.
The hunter is here. The hunter is hunting his twenty-five thousand or so, give or take.
The hunter is in his ship.
Anxiety is thrumming behind his tightened jaw, the ache of teeth that do not give under insistent, nervous clenching traveling in white hot threads up to his worn jaw. His double-time heart picks up to a treble. There is ice in his stomach, now.
And yet--
"Of - of course, Cassius." Hugh's expression may be a bit more drawn than before, but the smile is there nonetheless. Weakened, but there. Ignore the quiet shake of his hand in the moment before he shakes it out himself, an absent flicker of his wrist that turns into rubbing at one of them as he walks, makes a point of not looking directly at Cassius until they're at an angle where that head and neck look halfway normal. Cassius is calm, polite. Friendly. It wouldn't do to let his unease show, and coping with that squirming, aberrant build of his is adding stress onto his already simmering unease. "After me."
He takes point, walks ahead by a few paces because he needs to lead the way, of course. Needs to make sure the people that see Cassius will see that he's in tow behind their very favorite head of engineering, that everything is under control. Ish. That everything is fine.
(Because this way, he can let the anxiety gnaw into his expression without worrying about communicating that to his company.)
"Stay close, now. Place is a bit of a maze. We'll take the elevator here in a few turns - more privacy that way, you know."
Place is a fucking mess of a maze. Plenty of places for a hunter to wait.
“Do not worry, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros,” Cassius says, a small, confident tone to his voice as he stays close (very close, as close as Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ quicker legs will allow). “I am familiar with mazes. I will not get lost.”
(But not for a lack of trying, because Cassius certainly seems like he is trying to. Hugh cannot go ten feet without him trailing behind to a stop due to observing a piece of furniture, one of the many notices hung up on the walls, or even just a particularly funky looking piece of machinery.
If Hugh had been wondering at all why Cassius’ reported sightings weren’t that far apart, well, he knows now. Cassius likes to look.
It makes the trip to the elevator take so much longer than it is supposed to, and that’s not even taking into account the questions.)
“If we are not on Earth, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros," he says, "then where is your water sourced from? Do you not need to drink?”
“Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros, this notice on the board – it is requesting to ‘call’ for a ‘good time’ -” emphasized by a curling of fingers “- is it possible to call in for such a thing?”
“Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros," he says, hands cupped before him with care, "I have found a cockroach. Please, look -”
(Cassius has never felt so lively outside of his Hunter's company. It is... nice. Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros is nice.
He wonders if this is what it means to have 'fun'.)
“Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros,” Cassius starts once more, just as they reach the metal doors of the elevator. If there is tension to Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ shoulders by this point, Cassius misses it. His tone is a little more subdued now, a little more thoughtful. “...before, you asked me about my Hunter.” A hopeful drone underneath paper-thin skin. “Does this mean you will help me find them?”
To Hugh's credit, he is exceedingly patient. Mainly because he has no choice. It is a sheer act of God to get him stopping every ten or so feet and turning back with a tone that is becoming increasingly clipped, hands that dig further and further into his hips whenever he hears the tell-tale slowing of those steps at his back. He's learned to listen for it, now.
Congratulations are in order for Cassius. He'd be screaming at anyone else by this point.
All of our water is recycled after use. Traded between ships when evaporation gets to it, you know. And believe me, I absolutely need a drink.
(He does not mention that the fleet is largely running out. That they have to buy it from the one ship that found a monopoly in piecing out their vast hoards from the Before Times, the Earthside times.)
Trust me, there's no good time to be had with that particular board. It's usually a set-up to rob someone. Or a set-up for disappointing sex.
(He does not bother asking whether or not Cassius is familiar with sex. By God, he has and will continue to give plenty of explanations tonight, and that will not be one of them.)
Oh good. More cockroaches. I'm sure people are hoarding food in their rooms again, making more little friends for me to find in the walls.
(He does not step on said cockroach, and it is a Herculean show of will that he does not do so. The offending bug waggles its antennae impertinently before scurrying off underneath a piece of furniture, never to be seen again.)
By the time they make it to the elevator, Hugh's never known he could be so exhausted from so few steps. So little effort in the physical. The doors hitch just a moment before they slide open - wonderful, something else for him to fix - and he glances at Cassius over his shoulder, brows rising a bit. Paints on a smile. Cassius seems hopeful, eager. Hugh gnaws away the parts of him that might seem conspiratorial.
(Cassius wouldn't notice them anyway, he wagers.)
"Oh, absolutely. Had designs to find them on my own at any rate, might as well get you two... reunited, no?" He steps inside, the dingy interior worn by feet and hands and all manner of greasy, nasty human things. There's gum on the button pad that Hugh nonchalantly digs a screwdriver from his back pocket to pry off, then uses his knuckles to hit the button for the top floor. Wipes them on his shirt afterwards. "You'll have to help me, though. I'll need your expertise to track them down. Would you help me do that, Cassius?"
Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros had already begun making plans to find his Hunter.
Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros is going to help Cassius reunite with them.
Cassius is practically vibrating in his skin at the news, his worms writhing almost violently in their excitement (he does not notice how loud he has become, how the drone of him bounces off of the tighter confines of the elevator. Doesn’t even realize he’s loosening in places until he feels himself wobble. It takes effort to control himself, but he does. He does). He almost takes a step forward, before the elevator jerking to life keeps him in place.
“Yes, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros, it would be my pleasure to help you,” he says, almost blurting out the words for all that a monster can. There’s a hint of pride in his tone as he folds his hands together (squeezes the popping seams closed so they may heal). “My Hunter is difficult to track without my Garden, but you seem to be very capable, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros. I am fortunate to have found you.”
And he is, is he not? There are so little monsters in the world, even less that are kind. Cassius feels… lucky, he thinks is the word. Lucky to have found such a companion so far from his home.
(Grateful, even, to the force that had put him here in the first place.)
Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros is not the Hunter, no, could never be the Hunter, but Cassius enjoys his company all the same. As the numbers above the elevator doors change and change and change, Cassius settles in just a little bit closer to his fellow monster.
(Away from the elevator, floors and floors and halls away where the shadows are thicker, the machinery louder, a man goes missing. No one is around to hear him scream.
Cassius was right, of course. His Hunter does not leave a trace.)
A normal, human human would likely feel some sort of gut-deep, primal discontent at that wet drone bouncing all around them. Indeed, some of the people that have encountered him at a closer distance than others - an accidental turn around a corner right into him, in one particularly distraught eyewitness account - have seemed downright disturbed by that aspect. The sound. It panics them in a way they don't fully comprehend. Lizard hindbrain acting up, perhaps. Telling them that this thing is strange, dangerous, bad.
As is, Hugh only has to raise his voice a bit. He is not human human anymore, and it only registers as noise. Another detail to take in. Like Cassius' dogged eagerness, the way he squeezes his hands together like wet craft paper to seal the slick, writhing mass back inside of himself.
(He'll spend tonight divided neatly between setting up new ways to track down this hunter and trying to puzzle out how Cassius works, exactly. Neither will be fruitful.)
For now, though, he smiles. Friendly, if a bit bland. More than a bit calculating behind his odd, mismatched eyes.
"And I you. I think we're going to be very good friends, Cassius."
Ding.
The viewport isn't very far, really. Maybe they spend a bit more time on Cassius' distractions, but for the most part, Hugh ushers them to the grand steel double doors and punches in his passcode (nine digits, lightning quick like he has the sequence carved behind his eyes) with his knuckles, gestures for Cassius to go on ahead when the doors slide open with a soft whirr.
"Had to lock it down after... mm. Some trouble." Hugh falters only for a moment on that explanation, careful to close the doors after them. Doesn't mention YS. The great, pale shape of it so close it nearly pressed itself to the glass - how it still comes around, sometimes. Tries to communicate with anyone it sees inside, to usually traumatized or disastrous effect. Doesn't seem to be here right now, at least. "Just you and I. As it should be."
It's at least six full-length panes of something akin to glass, although far colder to the touch. A sprawling view of the stretch of space to Earth's right, at the moment. Up here, there is no light and there are no clouds - nothing to diminish the infinite sprawl of the universe all around them. Stars and galaxies and oh, there's Mars, that pale red shape of it hovering far, far out. Easier to see out here. There are telescopes, too, positioned in a line along the glass - Cassius might see further celestial bodies if he looks.
(Hugh has, often. In the beginning, when space was still wonderful and new. Now he just comes here to bask in the soft celestial glow and drink.)
I think we're going to be very good friends, Cassius.
His seams nearly split open again at that as he follows Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros along, because – because Cassius has never had a friend before. He has the Hunter, yes, but the Hunter – they are so much more to Cassius. Fill so much more.
(They were there when he woke up to a squirming sky, woke up to the feeling of leaves under his back and the rawness of being New. It had been so much. So much.
His seams had cracked with the Newness, had sagged and sloshed with inexperience like a newborn learning to walk. Learning to be.
And they - they had understood.)
He opens his mouth to answer (I would very much like that, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros), but -
The doors open, and the words break away from him like loose soil.
Cassius lurches to the panes in his excitement, in his awe, hands squishing against the window as he leans in to the glass close enough that his nose barely brushes against it. His squirming has slowed to a stop as he takes in the view, the black stretch of Not Sky and the beautiful, twinkling things scattered in it like suspended, frozen fireflies. His eyes stretch wide, so wide, as if that will help him take in the splashes of soft colors, the -
Oh.
“Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros,” Cassius says, voice soft, hollowed of its hum. “Is that… the Earth?”
It is so... blue. So round. So full of vibrancy, even from all the way up here, in the Not Sky. Space. He drags a hand over the glass, almost caressing the image of the thing full of a species he has learned to love. Has hoped to imitate. Has craved to know with every living body that powers him.
And Cassius -
Cassius only wishes his Hunter were here to see it, too.
His hand curls against the glass. It takes effort to pull his hollowed eyes away from the window, from his second home, to fix his gaze upon Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros as if he holds all the answers. The hum under his skin stutters to a start, as if remembering that they, too, are alive.
“Thank you for this, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros." He turns away from the window completely, then, once more folding his hands before him, elbows bent. "If at all possible, when we find my Hunter, I would like for them to see this as well.”
"Yes, it is." Hugh takes his place at Cassius' side, hands folded at the small of his back. Shoulder to shoulder, now, unbothered by that soft murmur of motion at his side, just barely not touching. He stands straight, as if there were an iron rod in his spine. Old habit. His mother was always so strict on posture. Chest out, chin up - well. Head tilted a bit in Cassius' direction, maybe. He was never the best student. "I forget how stunning it is to see for the very first time. Spend long enough up here and it becomes... almost mundane, you know."
And it's true. After long enough, the beauty of open space becomes nothing more than a backdrop to the mundane drudgery of life. His life, in particular. Easy to forget about the painted cosmos outside his walls when he's too busy crawling around in them fixing things, burning himself on pipes. Battling the roaches.
Cassius' wonder reminds him that it is wondrous. Is beautiful. Hugh breathes in a chestful of over-sterilized, dry spaceship air and lets it out in a gentle lull against the glass. Only bothers to glance over when he sees motion in the corner of his eye, tilting his head to watch Cassius turn, hands brought in and folded politely. Turns to face him halfway, a hand on his cocked hip.
A monster, he calls himself. But he's hardly anything monstrous. The build and shape of him may be strange, but the rest? That demeanor of his, the way he carries himself? It's so... normal. So very quiet, so contained. Certainly not the black-eyed beast fit to devour them all that terrified crew were crowing about left and right. They didn't bother to give him a moment, to listen to him. To understand. Didn't want to.
(Hugh knows the feeling.)
"Of course, Cassius. Everyone should see it at least once, hm?" A little laugh, warm and faint. "Including your Hunter. Once we find them, we'll bring them here to take a look themselves. Do you think they'll appreciate it the way you do?"
Cassius stares at Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros for a moment, worms thrumming under his skin (in contentment, in happiness. When has anyone else besides his Hunter laughed in his presence? He likes it, he thinks. Likes how it is warm, just like its owner is), before he returns his attention back to the window. Back to the curtain of black speckled by stars.
Would his Hunter appreciate it?
He contemplates the question for a moment, two, three. Contemplates the vast space before him even longer.
“...my Hunter would appreciate it more, I think,” he says finally, a thoughtful tilt to his head. “Their senses are far greater than mine are, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros. They often think it a curse, but – perhaps here it could be a blessing.”
(Could be more than just smelling blood under fingernails and week-old tears soaked into shirts. Could be more than hearing hammering heartbeats and hitching breaths and the quiet pleas of hiding prey.
Could be more than just an anchor to the Song.
Maybe his Hunter would find some semblance of peace, then.)
He looks back to Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros, something softer in his stiff, dead features. “I believe I am ready to move on, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros. The sooner I am roomed, the sooner we may start our search, correct?” A pause, and then, “I wish to reunite with my Hunter as soon as possible. They will… miss me, I think, as I do them.”
Their senses are far greater than mine are, Cassius says, and takes it like a charming detail. A blessed thing about someone he so clearly adores.
Hugh takes a mental note.
(Sharper senses. Might need to figure out some way around that.)
"Of course. Whenever you're ready." Hugh makes sure to lock up behind them. Throws one last lingering look out at the stars after Cassius has left the room, something pensive across his features. "We'll be on the..."
He misses them, sometimes. YS. The mental connection is weakened through no small effort of his own, worn down to a thread, but that thread persists - reminds him of their presence. He's not sure he could cut it if he tried. He has not tried.
There is no sound out there, but there's a gentle ripple in the stars. Reality softening like melted plastic. That thread between them vibrating gently, like a spider tracing its web. Hugh turns halfway and lets the doors shut, punches the lock back into place without looking and ignores that desperate little tug at the back of his mind.
(He's given enough to them. Will give more, with time, whether he likes it or not. Let them wait.)
"...Mm." Hadn't finished that thought, had he? Hugh pushes on as if there were no pause at all, his steps a bit slower on the walk out. He pops his knuckles absently, working each finger loose into the curl of his other hand. "On the third deck, near me. We'll have some decontamination procedures to put you through, of course. Can't risk any unnatural viruses you might've inadvertently brought on board getting the rest of them ill. Lucky you that I'm mostly immune these days."
Entirely immune, in fact. They have colds, flus, a bevy of the usual Earth illnesses. In the years he's been up here, he's caught more than a few himself.
Until YS.
"But it involves staying in the room for a bit. Until we can clear you to walk around. I hope you don't mind, terribly sorry for the inconvenience." He adds on a bit more with a lilt, glancing at Cassius over his shoulder. "Wouldn't want to hurt anyone."
He's curious. Cassius seems to hold no active ill intent, but would he care if he were to hurt someone inadvertently? Would he value his freedom and will more than everyone else?
Cassius... is not the most in tune to people’s emotions. He is all too aware of it, of that disconnect between him and the creatures he tries to imitate. Of the complex spectrum of human emotions and how saturated they can become when compared with his paltry own. And yet, even with so little understanding, Cassius knows some emotions better than others, thanks to his Hunter.
Like the look upon Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ face when he lingers by the door.
Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros must have heavy thoughts like his Hunter does. The ones that -
( - carved itself into me, Cas. You don’t… forget something like that. Can’t forget.
It’s become just as much a part of me as your maggots are a part of you.)
He doesn’t point out the pause (his Hunter appreciates when he does not, and something tells him that Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros would appreciate it as well), merely watches as Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros comes back to the moment and acts as if it had not happened instead. For all his curiosity, Cassius is all too aware how it can pry open wounds for the flies to infest.
“’Decontamination procedures’?” he echoes eventually, following Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros, grateful for his consideration of Cassius’ slower shell even as his low drone abruptly shifts (his Hunter would have named it unease). “Will such a thing not harm my worms, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros? Despite being clean, I am aware that the very nature of my being is not as… sanitary, I believe, as the humans would like.”
And if Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros wishes for his whole shell, his whole self to be cleansed, it would not – he would not be able to reach his Garden for more of himself, if the worst were to pass. He does not know what would happen to him if he had no worms left to control, to be. Would he – die, then? Fade into nothing?
He does not know. Does not wish to know. Does not wish to even entertain the idea, because without him -
“If I were to be harmed during the process, I am afraid that my Hunter -” he pauses, the gap in his words punctuated by loud, wet bodies squirming over and over each other almost painfully so. The force of it halts him in place. Pressing his hands together does nothing for his seams. “...my Hunter needs me, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros. For their sake and the people aboard this vessel.”
Ah. Right. Decontamination was fluff, mindless filler for what really amounts to isolation and observation. Containment. But Hugh realizes how it must sound, now. Realizes how upsetting it must be when that uneven pace at his back halts abruptly in favor of a noisy wet anxious squirm, confirmed when he glances back and sees Cassius held in place, clutching at himself to keep the seams of himself together. Something in his chest that may not even be a nameable organ at this point clenches near painfully at the sight of him, so small and downcast. Scared, maybe.
So Hugh becomes the opposite. Turns on his heel primly and reaches down to clasp Cassius' writhing hands in his own, coaxing those seams shut for him. Wears a smile that glitters, warm and balmy the way Cassius' anxiety won't let him be. The way his nature prevents.
"Oh no, no. It's only a bit of time in isolation, Cassius, decontamination is - the Captain likes his official terminology is all. Makes him feel important, I wager. No one is going to hurt you or your--"
A pause. The wet squirm under his hands. The handshake had been brief, but now he can tell for certain that - yes, those are. Little bodies. Worms. The sort of things that fill up sunbaked dogs and come at him in nightmares, from time to time, only the ones where they take his shape instead. Some worm-bitten, noxious rotten strange thing that he's becoming. Sometimes he looks down and he's full of those horrible alien worms and they're inside him and eating him up and--
No, no. A smile.
"--friends. I won't allow anyone to hurt you, Cassius, you have my word. And believe me, my word is golden."
For their sake and the people aboard this vessel.
He caught that. Is trying not to visibly chew at it. Cassius is - keeping him safe is paramount. This Hunter might kill them all for the loss of him.
(If it were only him, he might not be so worried. But no, no - Cassius doesn't deserve that either. Not as far as Hugh's seen.)
"I'll lend you some of my books, how does that sound? The room has a television and everything. I've got every episode of Gatstronauts downloaded, you'll adore it."
It is the only real thought that drifts to Cassius as Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ heat soaks through his shell and holds him together where he himself cannot. As Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros reassures him in butterfly tones behind silverfish teeth.
I won’t allow anyone to hurt you, Cassius, you have my word.
It takes everything in him to drag his eyes up from their joined hands, takes even more to hold back his insides from piling into Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros, from molding his shell against him like he has done so many times with his Hunter, because -
Because that is two times now. Two times that Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros has initiated contact with him. Two times that he has given Cassius the warmth of his hands, the warmth of his care. The warmth of his glittering, easy smile.
(And it is warm, so warm. Warm in a way that his Hunter finds difficult most days. Warm in a way that eases the squirming under his shell, that eases his unease just enough he can pull himself together again.
Cassius does not realize it, but he is smiling, too. A small, timid, ghost of a thing curling at his lips, yes, but still there all the same. Still mattering in all the ways that count.)
Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros says he will not allow anyone to hurt him.
Well, Cassius will not let anyone hurt Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros, either.
(Monsters stick together.)
“I would like that, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros,” he finally says, once the storm inside of him settles enough to speak without undulating lips, a vibrating tongue. His worms are a soft movement under his papery shell now, pressed against Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ palms, yes, but not taking more than they should. “Unfortunately, I do not know what a Gastronauts is, but if you are sure that I will like it, then I look forward to the experience.”
"Please, call me Hugh. Bit quicker, isn't it?" A tilt of his head. Hugh gives Cassius' hands one last gentle squeeze before he pulls his own loose, sets them prim at his hips instead. "Doctor Argyros, if you'd rather stay formal. And you'll love it, I'm sure. Most of us do. Bit of the only real entertainment we get these days, if I'm being honest. Catastrophes and aliens aside."
Cassius' small smile warms him, honestly. Looks better on his face than that corpsey blankness, save those big, curious eyes of his. Not alive, no, but certainly lively, aren't they?
Cassius' room is one of the larger ones. Essentially a cell where they keep folks for observation, although Hugh takes pains not to make it sound as such - introduces Cassius to the little bed and the little bathroom and the amenities, very basic. This room was for something else, once, Hugh's not sure what, but it comes equipped with a television nonetheless. He brings armfuls of books back from his own cramped self-made quarters in Engineering and ignores how people stare at him for having had Cassius in tow, for how he carries his creature comforts in to this - this thing, as far as they know. Some critter, some fresh thing meant to kill them all. There's a sprawling observation window where they watch him chat Cassius up like a friend, grace him with idle touches here and there. A hand on the shoulder, arms brushing in passing.
They do not like it.
Maybe Cassius sees Hugh being confronted by a little group of angry-looking people when he steps out of the room. The glass muffles things, thick as it is, but it does not hide the way they point at the sole, buggy occupant accusingly. How they raise their voices. How Hugh raises his higher, just like he does his shoulders, crosses his arms and plants himself in the doorway and bristles visibly at some little comment. How it drives him forward into the space of a taller man, some burly fellow who sneers when Hugh jabs a finger in his chest and then shoves him, bold as anything.
People separate the two of them. They walk away together, as if marching to some doom.
Hours pass.
Hugh is back, then, with his jacket on and a rising bruise around his left eye in the vague shape of someone's knuckles. He smiles nonetheless. Steps inside with a tray of mess hall offerings - no empanadas today, unfortunately, they're doing something with rice and plant-based chicken, eugh - in hands that have a webbing of purplish bruising across the knuckles, a gash in one of them like he managed to catch it on something.
(Or someone's teeth.)
"Cassius! How are we? Sorry to disappear like that, had to, ah... have a word. With the higher ups." A glance to the TV. He showed Cassius how to navigate the menus, look for television shows or go through the music channels. "Comfortable, I hope?"
It is to be expected – Cassius is a monster, after all, and humans are afraid of monsters. They will always be afraid of monsters.
It is why he walks with extra care as Hugh – no. Doctor Argyros - no. Doctor Hugh leads him to his room. Why the hum under his skin lessens to a whispered squirm. Why he fixes his stare to the back of Doctor Hugh’s head instead of the wide-eyed people they pass.
Cassius is fond of humans. Less fond of scaring them.
Even now, after Doctor Hugh had gone and come and gone again (escorted, even, like he had done something wrong. Cassius had watched, had gone to the window, had taken in the details of all that had stood before his companion), Cassius is still taking care to keep himself from spreading. From scaring the humans who come to see him, but scurry away whenever he attempts to greet them.
(He does not greet them anymore. Merely sits on the bed and watches as the faint tones of an orchestra drift from the people box Doctor Hugh had so graciously shown him how to use.)
Time passes, and passes still, until the door to his room opens and -
Cassius stands from his seat with a violent roll of his shell, stare locked (and intense in a way he has not worn since he had stepped upon this ship) onto the new, purpling ring circling Doctor Hugh’s eye. He crosses the distance between them with lurching movements, ignoring the tray in Doctor Hugh’s grasp as he reaches out to brush his fingers just over the discolored skin.
“You are hurt.”
A frown ghosts at his face, because - because Doctor Hugh is not like his Hunter. Doctor Hugh does not – does not heal like his Hunter does. Like Cassius himself can. Doctor Hugh is a monster, yes, but – not an enduring one. Not one made to weather blows or guns or sharp edges or - or pain.
Death, even.
Doctor Hugh can be killed. So much easier than he or his Hunter can.
(The realization has him stilled, has every little body under him stopped. The silence is heavy, his upset heavier.)
“Who?” Cassius asks, tone dead and still like the rest of him. His head creak-turns slightly to look through the window, to the few rabbits lingering skittish by the door. (Wolves to him in his anger, though. Wasps. Stingers to be pulled and wings to be plucked. Meat to be filled with holes.) “Was it that human earlier, Doctor Hugh? You looked to be - angry at him. Did he do this?”
Cassius still knows his face. Could find him, even, if he spread himself out enough. There would be no shadow for him to hide in.
(Cassius has learned many things from his Hunter. Human manners, human mercy, human care.
A monster’s justice.)
It is hard, so hard to withdraw his hand from that mark upon Doctor Hugh’s face. Lets it drop limp to his side. Lets his eyes drop, too, to the purple lacing over Doctor Hugh’s knuckles. The angry, split seam.
Something inside of him aches.
(Something inside of him churns.)
His eyes once more fix on Doctor Hugh’s face, the quiet hum returning to his voice when he asks, “Shall I hunt him for you, Doctor Hugh?”
That sharp little intake of breath. What had he really expected, here? Certainly not this. Maybe a curious stare, intrigue at the marks. Maybe no comment at all. He feels the ache but hardly remembers it's there splashed in purplish dark across his face until Cassius' entire demeanor shifts like that, that eerie lurch of his as he draws close. A human would recoil from such a sight, he thinks. Knows he isn't human in the right ways anymore when it doesn't bother him. When he doesn't feel the slightest inclination to flinch away from those cold fingers on his face.
Widened eyes, a double-time pulse that pushes itself up to triple. A moment of quiet shock.
(No one has touched him so gently since he became this sad, crossbred thing that he is. No one has wanted to. They see the pearlescent streak through his hair and that strange, faded eye of his and keep their distance, some part of them still so human and soft knowing better than to come around something so sick.
He's never blamed them for it.)
His eyes close, for a moment. Instinctive. Flutter open again immediately, he can't - can't let this distract him. Has to keep control. It softens his eyes and his tone, certainly, eyes half-lidding in quiet sympathy as he meets Cassius' stare. Listens.
That deadened flatness in him is a dangerous thing.
"No, no - someone else," Hugh lies, because - shit. Adamska, the brute, is not worth this. He's a nightmare to deal with, but he has his purpose on this ship that he fulfills well, same as Hugh has his. A necessary evil. "Things may have been a bit heated when speaking to the rest of the higher-ups on this ship. Showrunners, you know. I get a bit testy. Would it make you feel better if I told you I struck first?"
He didn't. Not physically, anyway. Adamska just can't handle some fruity alien fuck pointing out that as far as this Hunter is concerned, Cassius' life is infinitely more valuable than his would ever be. Would be even without Caelan's lurking threat. That as far as the Protogonos is concerned, there are at least a thousand ugly lunks with half a face that could fill his position in Communications and not break a sweat, and probably do it better than he can.
(Maybe Hugh likes to run his mouth a bit too much.)
Hugh has leaned his face into Cassius' hand by the time it retreats. Only a little. Offered a faint grin, tinged purplish at its edges. (Might've cut his lip against those silvery teeth on the way down. Man hits like a freight train.) Thinks to mention the Beethoven drifting through sterile air, or apologize for the shitty not-chicken he has in offering, or if Cassius has watched any Gatstronauts because god he would love to have someone to discuss the character arcs with--
Hunt. Like a predator. Like a - monster. Cassius had called himself that so freely, hadn't he? And Hugh, in his infinite wisdom and capacity for ignoring red flags, had taken it as cutesy wording. A fun little self-title, like Doctor or Senior Engineer or abominable inhuman fucking thing. Because Cassius had been all big, dark eyes and little smiles, soft tones and the sort of pleasant drone that itches just right in the parts of him that aren't human anymore.
Hugh stills. Swallows audibly, eyes just a bit wider for it.
(Some part of him wants to say yes.)
"Oh - no, no. Not necessary. Adamska isn't worth the trouble, you know." There's the smile again, although it's not warm and soft - it's sharp and cocky, smeared on like paint. That glittery grin that goes crooked on one side, the one with a deeper line in his cheek. Like he wears this look often, this grin he doesn't feel. "How terribly thoughtful of you, Cassius. I'll remember that."
There are observers, of course. They shift restlessly at Cassius' quiet, earnest threat. A bit moreso when Hugh says that last line with a pointed look over his shoulder, heavy with dark promise. I'll remember it and I'll use it if I have to.
(He won't, not really. Doesn't want Cassius to make himself into the threat they so desperately want him to be so they can throw him away, or lock him up somewhere far smaller, far tighter and far worse. Treat him like a thing the way they wish they could treat Hugh.
But threats. Those are always useful.)
"I heal a bit quicker than the average human, it's really nothing. Far from the worst damage I've had done to me." He follows Cassius' line of sight down to his knuckles, laughing faint. A little shrug. "Far. From the worst. Honestly, you should see the other guy."
The squirming is slow to return, Doctor Hugh’s words easing the stillness in him little by little as he drags his eyes up to meet his companion’s mismatched ones.
“It does not make me feel better, Doctor Hugh,” he starts, voice soft like silk, that same barely-there frown upon his face. Cassius’ fingers move to trace over Doctor Hugh’s knuckles, easing the tray out of his grasp as if it is a burden to him that Cassius insists on carrying. “I would prefer you not to come to harm at all, even if you are the one to strike first. You do not heal as fast as my Hunter.”
Because his Hunter tears themselves open and mends themselves closed in heartbeats. Because his Hunter has had their throats slit, their body burned, their limbs torn, and come out of it without so much a scar.
Cassius cannot keep them from being injured, no, but there is at least a comfort in knowing that any wound will not take. Doctor Hugh does not have that luxury.
(If he had been there, Doctor Hugh’s assailant would have had his anger carved into his legs like worm trails. A lesson, perhaps, in fear.)
That churning within him still remains, heavy like stones and gnawing hungry like starved maggots as he steps away to set the tray aside on the small table tucked up against the wall. Does not make to touch it, merely turns away to let his eyes linger on damaged, wounded skin.
(Guilt, if he had known the name to it. Instead it is an uncomfortable, spiraling thing not unlike the shell of a snail, only it keeps going and going without pause. Without clear view of the bottom.
He does not like it.)
He folds his hands in front of him as his gaze strays to the glass. To the rabbits stilling under his stare. He imagines if he had his Hunter’s senses, their hearts would be thrumming like a dragonfly’s wings.
His thoughts drift, then, to the anger he had seen outside of his windowed room. To the people there and the way that they had stared as Doctor Hugh had led him along. To humans and all that they are capable of when they are afraid.
When his attention returns to Doctor Hugh, it is softer. Solemn.
“...I am sorry,” Cassius says after the silence stretches. “It is because of me, is it not? Why you were hurt. Because I am a monster.”
(Earth, maybe. Sure, he's had friends on the ship, but they weren't close. Didn't care overmuch when he came battered and bruised, only raised their brows and asked him what happened. They didn't fret. And when he'd become this, the vast majority of them had pulled away entirely. Cordial, short greetings and little smiles while passing in the halls that have very little eye contact attached.
Earth, probably. His father, soft-eyed and sorry after Hugh had come out of the latest row with his mother shaking from rage. There with a cup of his favorite tea - hibiscus and honey - and soft, comfy quiet out on the veranda, the open invitation to talk if he wanted to. His only real solid boyfriend, those cheap silver caps on his teeth glittering when he'd laugh and tell Hugh he didn't have to start fights over him at the bars, he already had him.
Earth. Down below, far away.)
Hugh blinks away a film of wetness he hadn't intended to let build, waits until Cassius turns to the table to do it. Thumb at the corner of his strange eye discreetly, the tears thick and murky there, sticky like oil. Takes in that solemnity with open surprise, forcing up a bark of wet laughter he doesn't feel. Shaking his head. If he keeps it moving, maybe the emotion won't translate.
"...They don't like me, here. Not the vast majority of them." A quiet admission. A little slump to his normally broad, straight shoulders. Hugh's eyes settle on Cassius' hands and stay there, his own hanging loose at his sides now. "Just - looking for a reason, really. You're not the cause, only an excuse. They don't--"
A beat. They don't like monsters here. That's true enough, but it also isn't the entire truth, is it. He starts again, softer.
"The thing... that made me. Into what I am. It did a lot of damage to these people, Cassius." His hands flex emptily. He studies the lines in his palms as he has done for hours, obsessing over every little line and nick and pale scar. Looking for any sign of something awful, something strange. "I never really told you what I am, did I? That I wasn't always like this."
Oh, Cassius thinks. It is that look again. The one filled with heavy thoughts. The one that seems to wear down on Doctor Hugh’s kindness and warmth, tugging it down, down, down into something more…
(Haunted.)
They don’t like me here.
Cassius takes a step closer, and then another and another until he is close enough to touch Doctor Hugh if he so desired. If Doctor Hugh had been his Hunter, Cassius would have already piled himself, molded himself to the grooves of their side in the way he knows would comfort them. Steady them. Anchor them before they could drift away.
(When his Hunter’s thoughts get heavy, when the weight seems to crush them, they hide themselves away from the world, deep within his garden, where he can comfort them in a way only he knows how.
They call it a weakness, his Hunter. They forget that it makes them human.)
Doctor Hugh, however, is not his Hunter, and no matter how much he may want to, Cassius restrains himself. Casts a glance to the window instead, where the rabbits wait with teeth and claws and round, round eyes taking Doctor Hugh in, in, in the way he knows his Hunter would not like.
It did a lot of damage to these people, Cassius.
I wasn’t always like this.
Just like his Hunter, Doctor Hugh. A monster made, not born. A soul without sound forced to bear the weight of a song. A person burdened with more than they were meant to carry.
(Someone kind made into something dangerous.)
Cassius steps around Doctor Hugh, then, to the side facing the window. Pauses for a long, long moment to give the skittering rabbits a steadied gaze, before he turns and presses himself into Doctor Hugh’s side, as a comfort. As a shield. Doesn’t mold himself to Doctor Hugh, yet, merely rests his head against his shoulder, arm pressed against arm.
“I will listen if you wish to tell me,” Cassius says, the hum around him growing, drowning out the faint orchestra, giving their words a semblance of privacy. “But only if you wish to. You will remain Doctor Hugh to me either way, Doctor Hugh.”
It's sharp, that. Unbidden. A painful sound punched right out of him in the shape of a laugh with none of the softness, all the wrong angles. Too many points, too many edges. Leaning his side into Cassius helps a little, but not entirely. The effort to shield him from their prying stares, the drone that sets their teeth on edge and drowns out his words. It's a kindness he didn't expect. That he doesn't deserve.
(He put Cassius in a cage. Gold bars and Gatstronauts don't change the shape of it. Knows it's for his safety too, that Hugh didn't have a choice, but--)
You will remain Doctor Hugh to me either way, Doctor Hugh.
When's the last time someone saw him as Doctor Hugh and not so much else? That well-loved bastard Singh, probably, and even his looks edge into piteous sometimes. Unbearable sympathy. He'd rather be alone.
"There - there was this creature. YS, they call themselves." Eees, as he says it. His body language turns strange at the mention of it, tighter and tenser in on himself. "They were... we thought they were attacking the ship. Had these spores, you know, sort of - hooked into the brainstem and took control of people. Irreversible. I was the only one who could - would communicate with them. They were so..."
A pause. His words come softer.
"...Lonely."
And they were. Are. He feels it now more keenly for having had him. The strong, homemade liquor helps numb it in the dead of night when he has nothing else to think of.
"And I was there for them. I was there for them and they - they didn't want me to be human, as I was. To live, and to die. They can't die. Will never - die. They..."
Hugh drops a hand to gentle encircle Cassius' wrist, guide it up the back of his shirt at an angle where no one else can see. Feel all those little fluttering pits up and down his spine, the grooves of cool pearly carapace around them. In lines between his ribs. More spore pits, there. He's got so many of them now.
"Wanted. To make me something more. And now I can't stop it."
So the ship hates him. Fears him. Resents him. He doesn't think he needs to finish the thought for Cassius to understand what those feel like.
"I don't know what I'll be in ten years. Five." A wet noise in his throat. Mirthless laughter. "A hundred. A hundred thousand. I may not be Doctor Hugh anymore, at some point. And I--"
Cassius says nothing as Doctor Hugh speaks. Lets him guide Cassius’ death-chilled hand up his back along a spine that is not quite a spine anymore. To ribs with those same, smooth pits that mark him as inhuman. A monster.
They wanted to make me something more.
He does not withdraw his hand, merely uses it to draw himself closer into Doctor Hugh’s contour. Mold himself into it, just a little, shell caving and stretching to cover more of his surface.
It scares me, Cassius.
He does not know how to comfort Doctor Hugh through this. Has never had to comfort his Hunter through the terror of their Newness. They had come to him full of scars already healed, a cocoon already ripped open and hollowed of the fully formed thing that had called that burden a home. And Doctor Hugh -
Doctor Hugh is still New. Still struggling with this YS. Still struggling to cope with his Song.
(Because that is what YS is, is it not? A force older than humanity, plagued upon a vessel with soft flesh so it could be sculpted into its image.
It does not matter to Cassius if it was lonely. Doctor Hugh is lonely now, too, because of it. Hurting because of it. Weighed down and crushed by his thoughts because of it.
Doctor Hugh says it cannot die, but -
His Hunter has not failed a hunt yet.)
“...you are much like my Hunter, Doctor Hugh,” Cassius says, when Doctor Hugh’s voice lulls with the emotion hanging upon his words. “They were human, too, once. Until the Song sunk its fangs into them and they were made New. Much like you are.”
He pauses for a moment, settles into a squirm that he has found to ease his Hunter (tight circles, bodies going round and round in a slow and steady pace).
“They are not the same person as before they were remade,” he continues gradually, as if forming the words is difficult for him (as if he is putting all of his worm-shaped heart into finding the right thing to say), “but they are still the Hunter. Still – Caelan, despite the years that have passed. Despite all that the Song has carved away from them.”
He loops his free hand around Doctor Hugh’s own, (another point of contact, another anchor from the heavy thoughts), and is met with the fluttering swarm of a pulse. Two heartbeats at once, three. No wonder Doctor Hugh is so kind.
“You will always be Doctor Hugh,” said with surety, with unfaltering faith. “Your Song – your YS – can carve away at you, too, Doctor Hugh, but it cannot change your roots. Not if you let do not let them.” A squeeze at Doctor Hugh’s hand, a pale imitation of the gentle gesture he had given Cassius earlier. “My Hunter took the Song and made it into something that helps in a way only a monster is capable of. With time, I believe that you can, too, Doctor Hugh.”
That squirm against his side shouldn't be soothing. Should terrify him - disgust him, even. Remind him of sweltering summer and the stink of sunbaked dogs. Whatever is left of him in a human sense should revolt at the feeling of that human-shaped body molding around him a bit, like death-cold clay. All those little bodies inside pressing against him.
It doesn't. Hugh doesn't have it in him to be upset about that anymore. Not when it feels so... reassuring? Nice, if not warm in the general sense.
Hugh's hand finds one of Cassius', absently. Or his arm, or whatever else of him is in reach. His head leans into the body beside him, the weight of him pushing into Cassius ever so slightly. Tired. Needy, even.
"...Well. You are the expert, aren't you? I'll have to take your word for it," he says in hollow tones of mirth, the wilted aspect of it sticking stubbornly. "And I hope you're right. I really... hope. That you are."
After a moment, he adds on.
"...Caelan. Pretty name."
He feels like the owner is not pretty in the least. But nonetheless, there's a newfound, fluttering feeling of kinship there, isn't there? To know that someone else out there knows what it's like to be something and then forcibly made into something else.
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His attention on Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros does not waver in the slightest, even as Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ mismatched eyes do.
You’re in orbit right now.
Cassius opens his mouth, a question on the tip of his tongue -
You know. Space. The space just around the planet, in fact.
- and closes his mouth immediately after, new questions sprouting forth even as the weight of Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros sinks in.
Cassius is no longer on Earth. No longer upon familiar soil. Instead he is above it. In… space. In that blackened curtain his Garden’s sky is a poor imitation of, where the moon hangs bright and the sun warms his skin and the stars -
The drone returns in twofold now, Cassius’ expression lighting up as much as his otherness will allow (which is, of course, not a lot).
“We are in the sky?” he asks, pushing a little more into Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ personal bubble. “How is this possible, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros, when we are in a ship? Are they not meant for sailing through the ocean?”
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"Well, sort of. A bit above the sky you'd see from Earth, if you're going to get technical. I'd rather not. Never much of a cosmonaut, myself." Not until circumstance made one of him, anyway. He still doesn't necessarily understand much outside of the basics - what one needs to keep a spaceship afloat and alive and not drifting mindlessly through space full of corpses. Hugh teeters back on his heels a bit, not entirely willing to be the one to take a step back for fresh air and admit defeat. He can practically feel that humming in his bones. "
God he's really close. Hugh makes a grand sweeping gesture with his arm that ever so coincidentally carries him back a step, gesturing at the air around him. The room, the ship itself. Space.
"And this - different sort of ship, although they're both very much for sailing. Star sailing, you might call it. It's a spaceship." He sounds downright proud now, practically beaming. "The Protogonos is her name. Roughly, I don't know - twenty five thousand people in her belly, give or take a few hundred every time new ships come around. There's a good twenty others out there, but don't let them fool you - the Protogonos is by far the best."
It is most certainly not. But he's not about to admit that.
"Would you like to stop by the viewport before we head to your room? Get a look at open space? You wouldn't believe the view up here, without light pollution. More lights than you could ever count."
Alright, shit. Maybe Hugh likes space too.
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The thought squirms out of his grasp not long after, because -
Because Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros speaks of this "spaceship”, of this Protogonos, in the same tone of voice Cassius feels when speaking of his Hunter. He can understand this, he thinks, even if he cannot understand, cannot imagine, the things that Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros can. Things like how does one sail through space without water? Or how can a ship be a ship, but also a woman?
Cassius does not know, does not ask to know, because Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros brings up something much more important.
Twenty five thousand people in her belly, give or take a few hundred.
“Oh,” Cassius says, once more closing in to feel Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ body heat. “That is good, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros. The Hunter will not go hungry then.”
He doesn’t linger this time, instead opting to move passed Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros towards the door. He pauses to look over his shoulder (neck twisting just a little more than a person’s would, head bending at a little more awkward of an angle), worms shifting in anticipation.
“I would love to stop by this ‘viewport’, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros. I am eager to see the stars without your... 'light pollution'.”
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Now, he should've assumed a hunter would be hunting people, probably. But fuck, maybe Hugh wanted to hope for once. Imagine this thing of Cassius' was hunting - self-fulfillment or some bullshit like that. That maybe it was metaphorical. No, no. Silly him.
The hunter is here. The hunter is hunting his twenty-five thousand or so, give or take.
The hunter is in his ship.
Anxiety is thrumming behind his tightened jaw, the ache of teeth that do not give under insistent, nervous clenching traveling in white hot threads up to his worn jaw. His double-time heart picks up to a treble. There is ice in his stomach, now.
And yet--
"Of - of course, Cassius." Hugh's expression may be a bit more drawn than before, but the smile is there nonetheless. Weakened, but there. Ignore the quiet shake of his hand in the moment before he shakes it out himself, an absent flicker of his wrist that turns into rubbing at one of them as he walks, makes a point of not looking directly at Cassius until they're at an angle where that head and neck look halfway normal. Cassius is calm, polite. Friendly. It wouldn't do to let his unease show, and coping with that squirming, aberrant build of his is adding stress onto his already simmering unease. "After me."
He takes point, walks ahead by a few paces because he needs to lead the way, of course. Needs to make sure the people that see Cassius will see that he's in tow behind their very favorite head of engineering, that everything is under control. Ish. That everything is fine.
(Because this way, he can let the anxiety gnaw into his expression without worrying about communicating that to his company.)
"Stay close, now. Place is a bit of a maze. We'll take the elevator here in a few turns - more privacy that way, you know."
Place is a fucking mess of a maze. Plenty of places for a hunter to wait.
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(But not for a lack of trying, because Cassius certainly seems like he is trying to. Hugh cannot go ten feet without him trailing behind to a stop due to observing a piece of furniture, one of the many notices hung up on the walls, or even just a particularly funky looking piece of machinery.
If Hugh had been wondering at all why Cassius’ reported sightings weren’t that far apart, well, he knows now. Cassius likes to look.
It makes the trip to the elevator take so much longer than it is supposed to, and that’s not even taking into account the questions.)
“If we are not on Earth, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros," he says, "then where is your water sourced from? Do you not need to drink?”
“Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros, this notice on the board – it is requesting to ‘call’ for a ‘good time’ -” emphasized by a curling of fingers “- is it possible to call in for such a thing?”
“Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros," he says, hands cupped before him with care, "I have found a cockroach. Please, look -”
(Cassius has never felt so lively outside of his Hunter's company. It is... nice. Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros is nice.
He wonders if this is what it means to have 'fun'.)
“Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros,” Cassius starts once more, just as they reach the metal doors of the elevator. If there is tension to Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ shoulders by this point, Cassius misses it. His tone is a little more subdued now, a little more thoughtful. “...before, you asked me about my Hunter.” A hopeful drone underneath paper-thin skin. “Does this mean you will help me find them?”
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Congratulations are in order for Cassius. He'd be screaming at anyone else by this point.
All of our water is recycled after use. Traded between ships when evaporation gets to it, you know. And believe me, I absolutely need a drink.
(He does not mention that the fleet is largely running out. That they have to buy it from the one ship that found a monopoly in piecing out their vast hoards from the Before Times, the Earthside times.)
Trust me, there's no good time to be had with that particular board. It's usually a set-up to rob someone. Or a set-up for disappointing sex.
(He does not bother asking whether or not Cassius is familiar with sex. By God, he has and will continue to give plenty of explanations tonight, and that will not be one of them.)
Oh good. More cockroaches. I'm sure people are hoarding food in their rooms again, making more little friends for me to find in the walls.
(He does not step on said cockroach, and it is a Herculean show of will that he does not do so. The offending bug waggles its antennae impertinently before scurrying off underneath a piece of furniture, never to be seen again.)
By the time they make it to the elevator, Hugh's never known he could be so exhausted from so few steps. So little effort in the physical. The doors hitch just a moment before they slide open - wonderful, something else for him to fix - and he glances at Cassius over his shoulder, brows rising a bit. Paints on a smile. Cassius seems hopeful, eager. Hugh gnaws away the parts of him that might seem conspiratorial.
(Cassius wouldn't notice them anyway, he wagers.)
"Oh, absolutely. Had designs to find them on my own at any rate, might as well get you two... reunited, no?" He steps inside, the dingy interior worn by feet and hands and all manner of greasy, nasty human things. There's gum on the button pad that Hugh nonchalantly digs a screwdriver from his back pocket to pry off, then uses his knuckles to hit the button for the top floor. Wipes them on his shirt afterwards. "You'll have to help me, though. I'll need your expertise to track them down. Would you help me do that, Cassius?"
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Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros is going to help Cassius reunite with them.
Cassius is practically vibrating in his skin at the news, his worms writhing almost violently in their excitement (he does not notice how loud he has become, how the drone of him bounces off of the tighter confines of the elevator. Doesn’t even realize he’s loosening in places until he feels himself wobble. It takes effort to control himself, but he does. He does). He almost takes a step forward, before the elevator jerking to life keeps him in place.
“Yes, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros, it would be my pleasure to help you,” he says, almost blurting out the words for all that a monster can. There’s a hint of pride in his tone as he folds his hands together (squeezes the popping seams closed so they may heal). “My Hunter is difficult to track without my Garden, but you seem to be very capable, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros. I am fortunate to have found you.”
And he is, is he not? There are so little monsters in the world, even less that are kind. Cassius feels… lucky, he thinks is the word. Lucky to have found such a companion so far from his home.
(Grateful, even, to the force that had put him here in the first place.)
Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros is not the Hunter, no, could never be the Hunter, but Cassius enjoys his company all the same. As the numbers above the elevator doors change and change and change, Cassius settles in just a little bit closer to his fellow monster.
(Away from the elevator, floors and floors and halls away where the shadows are thicker, the machinery louder, a man goes missing. No one is around to hear him scream.
Cassius was right, of course. His Hunter does not leave a trace.)
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As is, Hugh only has to raise his voice a bit. He is not human human anymore, and it only registers as noise. Another detail to take in. Like Cassius' dogged eagerness, the way he squeezes his hands together like wet craft paper to seal the slick, writhing mass back inside of himself.
(He'll spend tonight divided neatly between setting up new ways to track down this hunter and trying to puzzle out how Cassius works, exactly. Neither will be fruitful.)
For now, though, he smiles. Friendly, if a bit bland. More than a bit calculating behind his odd, mismatched eyes.
"And I you. I think we're going to be very good friends, Cassius."
Ding.
The viewport isn't very far, really. Maybe they spend a bit more time on Cassius' distractions, but for the most part, Hugh ushers them to the grand steel double doors and punches in his passcode (nine digits, lightning quick like he has the sequence carved behind his eyes) with his knuckles, gestures for Cassius to go on ahead when the doors slide open with a soft whirr.
"Had to lock it down after... mm. Some trouble." Hugh falters only for a moment on that explanation, careful to close the doors after them. Doesn't mention YS. The great, pale shape of it so close it nearly pressed itself to the glass - how it still comes around, sometimes. Tries to communicate with anyone it sees inside, to usually traumatized or disastrous effect. Doesn't seem to be here right now, at least. "Just you and I. As it should be."
It's at least six full-length panes of something akin to glass, although far colder to the touch. A sprawling view of the stretch of space to Earth's right, at the moment. Up here, there is no light and there are no clouds - nothing to diminish the infinite sprawl of the universe all around them. Stars and galaxies and oh, there's Mars, that pale red shape of it hovering far, far out. Easier to see out here. There are telescopes, too, positioned in a line along the glass - Cassius might see further celestial bodies if he looks.
(Hugh has, often. In the beginning, when space was still wonderful and new. Now he just comes here to bask in the soft celestial glow and drink.)
"Enjoy."
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His seams nearly split open again at that as he follows Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros along, because – because Cassius has never had a friend before. He has the Hunter, yes, but the Hunter – they are so much more to Cassius. Fill so much more.
(They were there when he woke up to a squirming sky, woke up to the feeling of leaves under his back and the rawness of being New. It had been so much. So much.
His seams had cracked with the Newness, had sagged and sloshed with inexperience like a newborn learning to walk. Learning to be.
And they - they had understood.)
He opens his mouth to answer (I would very much like that, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros), but -
The doors open, and the words break away from him like loose soil.
Cassius lurches to the panes in his excitement, in his awe, hands squishing against the window as he leans in to the glass close enough that his nose barely brushes against it. His squirming has slowed to a stop as he takes in the view, the black stretch of Not Sky and the beautiful, twinkling things scattered in it like suspended, frozen fireflies. His eyes stretch wide, so wide, as if that will help him take in the splashes of soft colors, the -
Oh.
“Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros,” Cassius says, voice soft, hollowed of its hum. “Is that… the Earth?”
It is so... blue. So round. So full of vibrancy, even from all the way up here, in the Not Sky. Space. He drags a hand over the glass, almost caressing the image of the thing full of a species he has learned to love. Has hoped to imitate. Has craved to know with every living body that powers him.
And Cassius -
Cassius only wishes his Hunter were here to see it, too.
His hand curls against the glass. It takes effort to pull his hollowed eyes away from the window, from his second home, to fix his gaze upon Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros as if he holds all the answers. The hum under his skin stutters to a start, as if remembering that they, too, are alive.
“Thank you for this, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros." He turns away from the window completely, then, once more folding his hands before him, elbows bent. "If at all possible, when we find my Hunter, I would like for them to see this as well.”
no subject
And it's true. After long enough, the beauty of open space becomes nothing more than a backdrop to the mundane drudgery of life. His life, in particular. Easy to forget about the painted cosmos outside his walls when he's too busy crawling around in them fixing things, burning himself on pipes. Battling the roaches.
Cassius' wonder reminds him that it is wondrous. Is beautiful. Hugh breathes in a chestful of over-sterilized, dry spaceship air and lets it out in a gentle lull against the glass. Only bothers to glance over when he sees motion in the corner of his eye, tilting his head to watch Cassius turn, hands brought in and folded politely. Turns to face him halfway, a hand on his cocked hip.
A monster, he calls himself. But he's hardly anything monstrous. The build and shape of him may be strange, but the rest? That demeanor of his, the way he carries himself? It's so... normal. So very quiet, so contained. Certainly not the black-eyed beast fit to devour them all that terrified crew were crowing about left and right. They didn't bother to give him a moment, to listen to him. To understand. Didn't want to.
(Hugh knows the feeling.)
"Of course, Cassius. Everyone should see it at least once, hm?" A little laugh, warm and faint. "Including your Hunter. Once we find them, we'll bring them here to take a look themselves. Do you think they'll appreciate it the way you do?"
(They have to hunt the Hunter first, of course.)
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Would his Hunter appreciate it?
He contemplates the question for a moment, two, three. Contemplates the vast space before him even longer.
“...my Hunter would appreciate it more, I think,” he says finally, a thoughtful tilt to his head. “Their senses are far greater than mine are, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros. They often think it a curse, but – perhaps here it could be a blessing.”
(Could be more than just smelling blood under fingernails and week-old tears soaked into shirts. Could be more than hearing hammering heartbeats and hitching breaths and the quiet pleas of hiding prey.
Could be more than just an anchor to the Song.
Maybe his Hunter would find some semblance of peace, then.)
He looks back to Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros, something softer in his stiff, dead features. “I believe I am ready to move on, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros. The sooner I am roomed, the sooner we may start our search, correct?” A pause, and then, “I wish to reunite with my Hunter as soon as possible. They will… miss me, I think, as I do them.”
no subject
Hugh takes a mental note.
(Sharper senses. Might need to figure out some way around that.)
"Of course. Whenever you're ready." Hugh makes sure to lock up behind them. Throws one last lingering look out at the stars after Cassius has left the room, something pensive across his features. "We'll be on the..."
He misses them, sometimes. YS. The mental connection is weakened through no small effort of his own, worn down to a thread, but that thread persists - reminds him of their presence. He's not sure he could cut it if he tried. He has not tried.
There is no sound out there, but there's a gentle ripple in the stars. Reality softening like melted plastic. That thread between them vibrating gently, like a spider tracing its web. Hugh turns halfway and lets the doors shut, punches the lock back into place without looking and ignores that desperate little tug at the back of his mind.
(He's given enough to them. Will give more, with time, whether he likes it or not. Let them wait.)
"...Mm." Hadn't finished that thought, had he? Hugh pushes on as if there were no pause at all, his steps a bit slower on the walk out. He pops his knuckles absently, working each finger loose into the curl of his other hand. "On the third deck, near me. We'll have some decontamination procedures to put you through, of course. Can't risk any unnatural viruses you might've inadvertently brought on board getting the rest of them ill. Lucky you that I'm mostly immune these days."
Entirely immune, in fact. They have colds, flus, a bevy of the usual Earth illnesses. In the years he's been up here, he's caught more than a few himself.
Until YS.
"But it involves staying in the room for a bit. Until we can clear you to walk around. I hope you don't mind, terribly sorry for the inconvenience." He adds on a bit more with a lilt, glancing at Cassius over his shoulder. "Wouldn't want to hurt anyone."
He's curious. Cassius seems to hold no active ill intent, but would he care if he were to hurt someone inadvertently? Would he value his freedom and will more than everyone else?
(Would he be a Hugh?)
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Like the look upon Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ face when he lingers by the door.
Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros must have heavy thoughts like his Hunter does. The ones that -
( - carved itself into me, Cas. You don’t… forget something like that. Can’t forget.
It’s become just as much a part of me as your maggots are a part of you.)
He doesn’t point out the pause (his Hunter appreciates when he does not, and something tells him that Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros would appreciate it as well), merely watches as Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros comes back to the moment and acts as if it had not happened instead. For all his curiosity, Cassius is all too aware how it can pry open wounds for the flies to infest.
“’Decontamination procedures’?” he echoes eventually, following Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros, grateful for his consideration of Cassius’ slower shell even as his low drone abruptly shifts (his Hunter would have named it unease). “Will such a thing not harm my worms, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros? Despite being clean, I am aware that the very nature of my being is not as… sanitary, I believe, as the humans would like.”
And if Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros wishes for his whole shell, his whole self to be cleansed, it would not – he would not be able to reach his Garden for more of himself, if the worst were to pass. He does not know what would happen to him if he had no worms left to control, to be. Would he – die, then? Fade into nothing?
He does not know. Does not wish to know. Does not wish to even entertain the idea, because without him -
“If I were to be harmed during the process, I am afraid that my Hunter -” he pauses, the gap in his words punctuated by loud, wet bodies squirming over and over each other almost painfully so. The force of it halts him in place. Pressing his hands together does nothing for his seams. “...my Hunter needs me, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros. For their sake and the people aboard this vessel.”
He lowers his eyes. “I am sorry.”
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Ah. Right. Decontamination was fluff, mindless filler for what really amounts to isolation and observation. Containment. But Hugh realizes how it must sound, now. Realizes how upsetting it must be when that uneven pace at his back halts abruptly in favor of a noisy wet anxious squirm, confirmed when he glances back and sees Cassius held in place, clutching at himself to keep the seams of himself together. Something in his chest that may not even be a nameable organ at this point clenches near painfully at the sight of him, so small and downcast. Scared, maybe.
So Hugh becomes the opposite. Turns on his heel primly and reaches down to clasp Cassius' writhing hands in his own, coaxing those seams shut for him. Wears a smile that glitters, warm and balmy the way Cassius' anxiety won't let him be. The way his nature prevents.
"Oh no, no. It's only a bit of time in isolation, Cassius, decontamination is - the Captain likes his official terminology is all. Makes him feel important, I wager. No one is going to hurt you or your--"
A pause. The wet squirm under his hands. The handshake had been brief, but now he can tell for certain that - yes, those are. Little bodies. Worms. The sort of things that fill up sunbaked dogs and come at him in nightmares, from time to time, only the ones where they take his shape instead. Some worm-bitten, noxious rotten strange thing that he's becoming. Sometimes he looks down and he's full of those horrible alien worms and they're inside him and eating him up and--
No, no. A smile.
"--friends. I won't allow anyone to hurt you, Cassius, you have my word. And believe me, my word is golden."
For their sake and the people aboard this vessel.
He caught that. Is trying not to visibly chew at it. Cassius is - keeping him safe is paramount. This Hunter might kill them all for the loss of him.
(If it were only him, he might not be so worried. But no, no - Cassius doesn't deserve that either. Not as far as Hugh's seen.)
"I'll lend you some of my books, how does that sound? The room has a television and everything. I've got every episode of Gatstronauts downloaded, you'll adore it."
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It is the only real thought that drifts to Cassius as Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ heat soaks through his shell and holds him together where he himself cannot. As Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros reassures him in butterfly tones behind silverfish teeth.
I won’t allow anyone to hurt you, Cassius, you have my word.
It takes everything in him to drag his eyes up from their joined hands, takes even more to hold back his insides from piling into Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros, from molding his shell against him like he has done so many times with his Hunter, because -
Because that is two times now. Two times that Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros has initiated contact with him. Two times that he has given Cassius the warmth of his hands, the warmth of his care. The warmth of his glittering, easy smile.
(And it is warm, so warm. Warm in a way that his Hunter finds difficult most days. Warm in a way that eases the squirming under his shell, that eases his unease just enough he can pull himself together again.
Cassius does not realize it, but he is smiling, too. A small, timid, ghost of a thing curling at his lips, yes, but still there all the same. Still mattering in all the ways that count.)
Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros says he will not allow anyone to hurt him.
Well, Cassius will not let anyone hurt Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros, either.
(Monsters stick together.)
“I would like that, Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros,” he finally says, once the storm inside of him settles enough to speak without undulating lips, a vibrating tongue. His worms are a soft movement under his papery shell now, pressed against Esteemed Senior Engineer Argyros’ palms, yes, but not taking more than they should. “Unfortunately, I do not know what a Gastronauts is, but if you are sure that I will like it, then I look forward to the experience.”
INSERT TINY LIL TIMESKIP
Cassius' small smile warms him, honestly. Looks better on his face than that corpsey blankness, save those big, curious eyes of his. Not alive, no, but certainly lively, aren't they?
Cassius' room is one of the larger ones. Essentially a cell where they keep folks for observation, although Hugh takes pains not to make it sound as such - introduces Cassius to the little bed and the little bathroom and the amenities, very basic. This room was for something else, once, Hugh's not sure what, but it comes equipped with a television nonetheless. He brings armfuls of books back from his own cramped self-made quarters in Engineering and ignores how people stare at him for having had Cassius in tow, for how he carries his creature comforts in to this - this thing, as far as they know. Some critter, some fresh thing meant to kill them all. There's a sprawling observation window where they watch him chat Cassius up like a friend, grace him with idle touches here and there. A hand on the shoulder, arms brushing in passing.
They do not like it.
Maybe Cassius sees Hugh being confronted by a little group of angry-looking people when he steps out of the room. The glass muffles things, thick as it is, but it does not hide the way they point at the sole, buggy occupant accusingly. How they raise their voices. How Hugh raises his higher, just like he does his shoulders, crosses his arms and plants himself in the doorway and bristles visibly at some little comment. How it drives him forward into the space of a taller man, some burly fellow who sneers when Hugh jabs a finger in his chest and then shoves him, bold as anything.
People separate the two of them. They walk away together, as if marching to some doom.
Hours pass.
Hugh is back, then, with his jacket on and a rising bruise around his left eye in the vague shape of someone's knuckles. He smiles nonetheless. Steps inside with a tray of mess hall offerings - no empanadas today, unfortunately, they're doing something with rice and plant-based chicken, eugh - in hands that have a webbing of purplish bruising across the knuckles, a gash in one of them like he managed to catch it on something.
(Or someone's teeth.)
"Cassius! How are we? Sorry to disappear like that, had to, ah... have a word. With the higher ups." A glance to the TV. He showed Cassius how to navigate the menus, look for television shows or go through the music channels. "Comfortable, I hope?"
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It is to be expected – Cassius is a monster, after all, and humans are afraid of monsters. They will always be afraid of monsters.
It is why he walks with extra care as Hugh – no. Doctor Argyros - no. Doctor Hugh leads him to his room. Why the hum under his skin lessens to a whispered squirm. Why he fixes his stare to the back of Doctor Hugh’s head instead of the wide-eyed people they pass.
Cassius is fond of humans. Less fond of scaring them.
Even now, after Doctor Hugh had gone and come and gone again (escorted, even, like he had done something wrong. Cassius had watched, had gone to the window, had taken in the details of all that had stood before his companion), Cassius is still taking care to keep himself from spreading. From scaring the humans who come to see him, but scurry away whenever he attempts to greet them.
(He does not greet them anymore. Merely sits on the bed and watches as the faint tones of an orchestra drift from the people box Doctor Hugh had so graciously shown him how to use.)
Time passes, and passes still, until the door to his room opens and -
Cassius stands from his seat with a violent roll of his shell, stare locked (and intense in a way he has not worn since he had stepped upon this ship) onto the new, purpling ring circling Doctor Hugh’s eye. He crosses the distance between them with lurching movements, ignoring the tray in Doctor Hugh’s grasp as he reaches out to brush his fingers just over the discolored skin.
“You are hurt.”
A frown ghosts at his face, because - because Doctor Hugh is not like his Hunter. Doctor Hugh does not – does not heal like his Hunter does. Like Cassius himself can. Doctor Hugh is a monster, yes, but – not an enduring one. Not one made to weather blows or guns or sharp edges or - or pain.
Death, even.
Doctor Hugh can be killed. So much easier than he or his Hunter can.
(The realization has him stilled, has every little body under him stopped. The silence is heavy, his upset heavier.)
“Who?” Cassius asks, tone dead and still like the rest of him. His head creak-turns slightly to look through the window, to the few rabbits lingering skittish by the door. (Wolves to him in his anger, though. Wasps. Stingers to be pulled and wings to be plucked. Meat to be filled with holes.) “Was it that human earlier, Doctor Hugh? You looked to be - angry at him. Did he do this?”
Cassius still knows his face. Could find him, even, if he spread himself out enough. There would be no shadow for him to hide in.
(Cassius has learned many things from his Hunter. Human manners, human mercy, human care.
A monster’s justice.)
It is hard, so hard to withdraw his hand from that mark upon Doctor Hugh’s face. Lets it drop limp to his side. Lets his eyes drop, too, to the purple lacing over Doctor Hugh’s knuckles. The angry, split seam.
Something inside of him aches.
(Something inside of him churns.)
His eyes once more fix on Doctor Hugh’s face, the quiet hum returning to his voice when he asks, “Shall I hunt him for you, Doctor Hugh?”
1/2 hhhhhh
That sharp little intake of breath. What had he really expected, here? Certainly not this. Maybe a curious stare, intrigue at the marks. Maybe no comment at all. He feels the ache but hardly remembers it's there splashed in purplish dark across his face until Cassius' entire demeanor shifts like that, that eerie lurch of his as he draws close. A human would recoil from such a sight, he thinks. Knows he isn't human in the right ways anymore when it doesn't bother him. When he doesn't feel the slightest inclination to flinch away from those cold fingers on his face.
Widened eyes, a double-time pulse that pushes itself up to triple. A moment of quiet shock.
(No one has touched him so gently since he became this sad, crossbred thing that he is. No one has wanted to. They see the pearlescent streak through his hair and that strange, faded eye of his and keep their distance, some part of them still so human and soft knowing better than to come around something so sick.
He's never blamed them for it.)
His eyes close, for a moment. Instinctive. Flutter open again immediately, he can't - can't let this distract him. Has to keep control. It softens his eyes and his tone, certainly, eyes half-lidding in quiet sympathy as he meets Cassius' stare. Listens.
That deadened flatness in him is a dangerous thing.
"No, no - someone else," Hugh lies, because - shit. Adamska, the brute, is not worth this. He's a nightmare to deal with, but he has his purpose on this ship that he fulfills well, same as Hugh has his. A necessary evil. "Things may have been a bit heated when speaking to the rest of the higher-ups on this ship. Showrunners, you know. I get a bit testy. Would it make you feel better if I told you I struck first?"
He didn't. Not physically, anyway. Adamska just can't handle some fruity alien fuck pointing out that as far as this Hunter is concerned, Cassius' life is infinitely more valuable than his would ever be. Would be even without Caelan's lurking threat. That as far as the Protogonos is concerned, there are at least a thousand ugly lunks with half a face that could fill his position in Communications and not break a sweat, and probably do it better than he can.
(Maybe Hugh likes to run his mouth a bit too much.)
Hugh has leaned his face into Cassius' hand by the time it retreats. Only a little. Offered a faint grin, tinged purplish at its edges. (Might've cut his lip against those silvery teeth on the way down. Man hits like a freight train.) Thinks to mention the Beethoven drifting through sterile air, or apologize for the shitty not-chicken he has in offering, or if Cassius has watched any Gatstronauts because god he would love to have someone to discuss the character arcs with--
no subject
Hunt. Like a predator. Like a - monster. Cassius had called himself that so freely, hadn't he? And Hugh, in his infinite wisdom and capacity for ignoring red flags, had taken it as cutesy wording. A fun little self-title, like Doctor or Senior Engineer or abominable inhuman fucking thing. Because Cassius had been all big, dark eyes and little smiles, soft tones and the sort of pleasant drone that itches just right in the parts of him that aren't human anymore.
Hugh stills. Swallows audibly, eyes just a bit wider for it.
(Some part of him wants to say yes.)
"Oh - no, no. Not necessary. Adamska isn't worth the trouble, you know." There's the smile again, although it's not warm and soft - it's sharp and cocky, smeared on like paint. That glittery grin that goes crooked on one side, the one with a deeper line in his cheek. Like he wears this look often, this grin he doesn't feel. "How terribly thoughtful of you, Cassius. I'll remember that."
There are observers, of course. They shift restlessly at Cassius' quiet, earnest threat. A bit moreso when Hugh says that last line with a pointed look over his shoulder, heavy with dark promise. I'll remember it and I'll use it if I have to.
(He won't, not really. Doesn't want Cassius to make himself into the threat they so desperately want him to be so they can throw him away, or lock him up somewhere far smaller, far tighter and far worse. Treat him like a thing the way they wish they could treat Hugh.
But threats. Those are always useful.)
"I heal a bit quicker than the average human, it's really nothing. Far from the worst damage I've had done to me." He follows Cassius' line of sight down to his knuckles, laughing faint. A little shrug. "Far. From the worst. Honestly, you should see the other guy."
no subject
“It does not make me feel better, Doctor Hugh,” he starts, voice soft like silk, that same barely-there frown upon his face. Cassius’ fingers move to trace over Doctor Hugh’s knuckles, easing the tray out of his grasp as if it is a burden to him that Cassius insists on carrying. “I would prefer you not to come to harm at all, even if you are the one to strike first. You do not heal as fast as my Hunter.”
Because his Hunter tears themselves open and mends themselves closed in heartbeats. Because his Hunter has had their throats slit, their body burned, their limbs torn, and come out of it without so much a scar.
Cassius cannot keep them from being injured, no, but there is at least a comfort in knowing that any wound will not take. Doctor Hugh does not have that luxury.
(If he had been there, Doctor Hugh’s assailant would have had his anger carved into his legs like worm trails. A lesson, perhaps, in fear.)
That churning within him still remains, heavy like stones and gnawing hungry like starved maggots as he steps away to set the tray aside on the small table tucked up against the wall. Does not make to touch it, merely turns away to let his eyes linger on damaged, wounded skin.
(Guilt, if he had known the name to it. Instead it is an uncomfortable, spiraling thing not unlike the shell of a snail, only it keeps going and going without pause. Without clear view of the bottom.
He does not like it.)
He folds his hands in front of him as his gaze strays to the glass. To the rabbits stilling under his stare. He imagines if he had his Hunter’s senses, their hearts would be thrumming like a dragonfly’s wings.
His thoughts drift, then, to the anger he had seen outside of his windowed room. To the people there and the way that they had stared as Doctor Hugh had led him along. To humans and all that they are capable of when they are afraid.
When his attention returns to Doctor Hugh, it is softer. Solemn.
“...I am sorry,” Cassius says after the silence stretches. “It is because of me, is it not? Why you were hurt. Because I am a monster.”
no subject
(Earth, maybe. Sure, he's had friends on the ship, but they weren't close. Didn't care overmuch when he came battered and bruised, only raised their brows and asked him what happened. They didn't fret. And when he'd become this, the vast majority of them had pulled away entirely. Cordial, short greetings and little smiles while passing in the halls that have very little eye contact attached.
Earth, probably. His father, soft-eyed and sorry after Hugh had come out of the latest row with his mother shaking from rage. There with a cup of his favorite tea - hibiscus and honey - and soft, comfy quiet out on the veranda, the open invitation to talk if he wanted to. His only real solid boyfriend, those cheap silver caps on his teeth glittering when he'd laugh and tell Hugh he didn't have to start fights over him at the bars, he already had him.
Earth. Down below, far away.)
Hugh blinks away a film of wetness he hadn't intended to let build, waits until Cassius turns to the table to do it. Thumb at the corner of his strange eye discreetly, the tears thick and murky there, sticky like oil. Takes in that solemnity with open surprise, forcing up a bark of wet laughter he doesn't feel. Shaking his head. If he keeps it moving, maybe the emotion won't translate.
"...They don't like me, here. Not the vast majority of them." A quiet admission. A little slump to his normally broad, straight shoulders. Hugh's eyes settle on Cassius' hands and stay there, his own hanging loose at his sides now. "Just - looking for a reason, really. You're not the cause, only an excuse. They don't--"
A beat. They don't like monsters here. That's true enough, but it also isn't the entire truth, is it. He starts again, softer.
"The thing... that made me. Into what I am. It did a lot of damage to these people, Cassius." His hands flex emptily. He studies the lines in his palms as he has done for hours, obsessing over every little line and nick and pale scar. Looking for any sign of something awful, something strange. "I never really told you what I am, did I? That I wasn't always like this."
no subject
(Haunted.)
They don’t like me here.
Cassius takes a step closer, and then another and another until he is close enough to touch Doctor Hugh if he so desired. If Doctor Hugh had been his Hunter, Cassius would have already piled himself, molded himself to the grooves of their side in the way he knows would comfort them. Steady them. Anchor them before they could drift away.
(When his Hunter’s thoughts get heavy, when the weight seems to crush them, they hide themselves away from the world, deep within his garden, where he can comfort them in a way only he knows how.
They call it a weakness, his Hunter. They forget that it makes them human.)
Doctor Hugh, however, is not his Hunter, and no matter how much he may want to, Cassius restrains himself. Casts a glance to the window instead, where the rabbits wait with teeth and claws and round, round eyes taking Doctor Hugh in, in, in the way he knows his Hunter would not like.
It did a lot of damage to these people, Cassius.
I wasn’t always like this.
Just like his Hunter, Doctor Hugh. A monster made, not born. A soul without sound forced to bear the weight of a song. A person burdened with more than they were meant to carry.
(Someone kind made into something dangerous.)
Cassius steps around Doctor Hugh, then, to the side facing the window. Pauses for a long, long moment to give the skittering rabbits a steadied gaze, before he turns and presses himself into Doctor Hugh’s side, as a comfort. As a shield. Doesn’t mold himself to Doctor Hugh, yet, merely rests his head against his shoulder, arm pressed against arm.
“I will listen if you wish to tell me,” Cassius says, the hum around him growing, drowning out the faint orchestra, giving their words a semblance of privacy. “But only if you wish to. You will remain Doctor Hugh to me either way, Doctor Hugh.”
no subject
It's sharp, that. Unbidden. A painful sound punched right out of him in the shape of a laugh with none of the softness, all the wrong angles. Too many points, too many edges. Leaning his side into Cassius helps a little, but not entirely. The effort to shield him from their prying stares, the drone that sets their teeth on edge and drowns out his words. It's a kindness he didn't expect. That he doesn't deserve.
(He put Cassius in a cage. Gold bars and Gatstronauts don't change the shape of it. Knows it's for his safety too, that Hugh didn't have a choice, but--)
You will remain Doctor Hugh to me either way, Doctor Hugh.
When's the last time someone saw him as Doctor Hugh and not so much else? That well-loved bastard Singh, probably, and even his looks edge into piteous sometimes. Unbearable sympathy. He'd rather be alone.
"There - there was this creature. YS, they call themselves." Eees, as he says it. His body language turns strange at the mention of it, tighter and tenser in on himself. "They were... we thought they were attacking the ship. Had these spores, you know, sort of - hooked into the brainstem and took control of people. Irreversible. I was the only one who could - would communicate with them. They were so..."
A pause. His words come softer.
"...Lonely."
And they were. Are. He feels it now more keenly for having had him. The strong, homemade liquor helps numb it in the dead of night when he has nothing else to think of.
"And I was there for them. I was there for them and they - they didn't want me to be human, as I was. To live, and to die. They can't die. Will never - die. They..."
Hugh drops a hand to gentle encircle Cassius' wrist, guide it up the back of his shirt at an angle where no one else can see. Feel all those little fluttering pits up and down his spine, the grooves of cool pearly carapace around them. In lines between his ribs. More spore pits, there. He's got so many of them now.
"Wanted. To make me something more. And now I can't stop it."
So the ship hates him. Fears him. Resents him. He doesn't think he needs to finish the thought for Cassius to understand what those feel like.
"I don't know what I'll be in ten years. Five." A wet noise in his throat. Mirthless laughter. "A hundred. A hundred thousand. I may not be Doctor Hugh anymore, at some point. And I--"
A swallow. His voice is thick.
"It scares me, Cassius."
no subject
They wanted to make me something more.
He does not withdraw his hand, merely uses it to draw himself closer into Doctor Hugh’s contour. Mold himself into it, just a little, shell caving and stretching to cover more of his surface.
It scares me, Cassius.
He does not know how to comfort Doctor Hugh through this. Has never had to comfort his Hunter through the terror of their Newness. They had come to him full of scars already healed, a cocoon already ripped open and hollowed of the fully formed thing that had called that burden a home. And Doctor Hugh -
Doctor Hugh is still New. Still struggling with this YS. Still struggling to cope with his Song.
(Because that is what YS is, is it not? A force older than humanity, plagued upon a vessel with soft flesh so it could be sculpted into its image.
It does not matter to Cassius if it was lonely. Doctor Hugh is lonely now, too, because of it. Hurting because of it. Weighed down and crushed by his thoughts because of it.
Doctor Hugh says it cannot die, but -
His Hunter has not failed a hunt yet.)
“...you are much like my Hunter, Doctor Hugh,” Cassius says, when Doctor Hugh’s voice lulls with the emotion hanging upon his words. “They were human, too, once. Until the Song sunk its fangs into them and they were made New. Much like you are.”
He pauses for a moment, settles into a squirm that he has found to ease his Hunter (tight circles, bodies going round and round in a slow and steady pace).
“They are not the same person as before they were remade,” he continues gradually, as if forming the words is difficult for him (as if he is putting all of his worm-shaped heart into finding the right thing to say), “but they are still the Hunter. Still – Caelan, despite the years that have passed. Despite all that the Song has carved away from them.”
He loops his free hand around Doctor Hugh’s own, (another point of contact, another anchor from the heavy thoughts), and is met with the fluttering swarm of a pulse. Two heartbeats at once, three. No wonder Doctor Hugh is so kind.
“You will always be Doctor Hugh,” said with surety, with unfaltering faith. “Your Song – your YS – can carve away at you, too, Doctor Hugh, but it cannot change your roots. Not if you let do not let them.” A squeeze at Doctor Hugh’s hand, a pale imitation of the gentle gesture he had given Cassius earlier. “My Hunter took the Song and made it into something that helps in a way only a monster is capable of. With time, I believe that you can, too, Doctor Hugh.”
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It doesn't. Hugh doesn't have it in him to be upset about that anymore. Not when it feels so... reassuring? Nice, if not warm in the general sense.
Hugh's hand finds one of Cassius', absently. Or his arm, or whatever else of him is in reach. His head leans into the body beside him, the weight of him pushing into Cassius ever so slightly. Tired. Needy, even.
"...Well. You are the expert, aren't you? I'll have to take your word for it," he says in hollow tones of mirth, the wilted aspect of it sticking stubbornly. "And I hope you're right. I really... hope. That you are."
After a moment, he adds on.
"...Caelan. Pretty name."
He feels like the owner is not pretty in the least. But nonetheless, there's a newfound, fluttering feeling of kinship there, isn't there? To know that someone else out there knows what it's like to be something and then forcibly made into something else.
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