Hometown Rabbit
"Did you secure the pod doors?"
"I ... I did," Ross chattered, shivering up and down, squinting hard. Nod-nod.
"Over there," was Aria's indication, given with a head-nod. "It is not a far walk."
"G-good ... mm ... "
She eye-smiled at him. As the cold air blew, as the wispy-white of the clouds swirled with an ever-present grey, and a higher, deeper blue. As the chill permeated, painting stretches, clearings of drifting white. And the mountains always on the horizon (and closer).
"So, uh ... uh, this is, like, the countryside? Your countryside?"
"Yes."
"Not much green ... "
"No," she confessed, still eye-smiling. "Are you warm enough?"
"Y-yeah ... "
"You are leaning on the pod's hull."
"The engines aren't completely c-cooled down yet. I ... it's warm," he said, arms crossed (not in any sort of frustrated gesture ... but simply in an extra 'keeping warm' attempt). The mouse was bundled up. Heavy winter jacket, and heavy paw-gloves, and big, wooly muffs that covered the entirety of his big ears, and a thick tail-sock that, unfortunately, was heavy enough to keep his tail lowered to the point where it dragged on the ground as he went (which was VERY disconcerting ... to have one's tail dragging on the ground; he didn't like the feeling). And he had a sort of muzzle-mask thing on ... you could see his eyes, and you could see his nose twitching beneath the fabric of the mask, and ... " ... I ... I feel like a snow mouse. Like ... you know, not a snow mouse like Ollie, but, like, one that you actually make out of snow ... "
"We call them snow-sculptured."
"Snow-sculptured mouse. That's what I am."
"Snow-sculptured MEADOW mouse. If we are being specific."
He gave her a friendly, giggle-squeaking look. "It's COLD! It's FREEZING!"
"I know."
"You don't even have ear-muffs on! Aria!"
"God designed my body for this environment," she said simply, tilting her head. Looking around, scanning. Taking a deep, icy breath. "I am fine."
"You gotta be cold. There's just no way," he said, shivering. And his eyes darted over her. She had a jacket on, and mittens, and ... but her fluffy bobtail exposed, and her ears and muzzle exposed, and ... she was beautiful. Oh, wow ...
" ... I can see your pupils dilating. Perhaps we should keep moving?"
"I, uh ... I th-think," he chattered, "that would be a good idea."
Arctic would leave the system tomorrow, in the morning ... to go back on perimeter patrol of the surrounding sectors. And to keep an eye open for a possible new Home-world for the Arctic foxes.
But, today, the Captain was taking a day of leave, and she and her mate were trudging, now, through the snow, toward a single house. Not so much a house. More a dwelling. More a homestead. There were other 'houses' around here, but they were loosely clustered. This was a snow rabbit version of a 'rural region' ... in the distance to the south, the skyscrapers of the city could be barely seen, glinting high. Hazy, foggy in the air's nippy expressions ... but evident nonetheless. Ross kept glancing at them. "That, uh ... what city's that?"
"That is our capital. Sleetmute."
"Capital? Of the planet?"
"No. Of the province. This is Rekantha Province ... the planet's capital is a few hundred miles away, in Kendra Province."
"Oh."
They drew closer to the dwelling (which was fairly big), leaving that blurry, swirling distance behind them. And leaving the resting pod, as well. A bit of smoke curling out of what looked to be a chimney-top. Obviously, a fire was lit inside ... in addition to any other, technology-based heat sources.
And, soon, they reached the door.
With a pause, Aria tilted her head. And gave her mate a look-over.
"What?" he asked innocently, eyes wide.
"Nothing," she assured, and looked back to the door, and held her paw a few inches from it ... hesitating. And then knocking. Knock-knock ... rap-rap-rap ... and she pulled her paw back. And waited.
Ross looked at the framing of the mountains ... and looked at the side of the house. And then to his mate. He weakly reached his paws out, both of them, through his paw-gloves, holding to one of the snow rabbit's arms.
She eye-smiled slightly.
And the door opened. Which caused Aria to stand up straighter.
And Ross just blinked, his nose cold (even through his muzzle-mask).
The snow rabbit who answered the door was femme. And must've been middle-aged ... in her early-forties. Though with different species, it was hard to tell. Ross, the former human, still bad at guessing the ages of furs ... with humans, you could tell from skin, and from all that. It was harder to guess with furs. Actually, scent was a better indicator than sight ... but his nose was covered, so ...
"He is a mouse," said the femme in the doorway.
"He is a vole," Aria corrected.
"I see. Nonetheless, a form of mouse." And she gave Ross a squint. A look-over. Causing the meadow mouse to flush beneath his fur and winter gear ... but she took her eyes off him, and looked to Aria, and eye-smiled warmly. "It is good to see you, daughter."
"As it is," Aria replied in kind, "to see you, mother." And she leaned forward, putting her nose to her mother's nose. Both of them closing their eyes, breathing for a second, and then parting noses. A greeting of affection for snow rabbits.
"You must come in," Aria's mother insisted.
Ross was the first to oblige, quickly entering the doorway, and taking a few paw-steps into the house. He blinked a few times, getting the general arrangement of the place. He'd kind of expected a snow rabbit house to be, well, a bit sterile, but it looked very livable inside ... art on the wall, golden-giving lamps on little stands ... and a fire in the fireplace, and pictures on the mantle above. And a screen in one wall. And ...
" ... Ross."
He blinked, turning.
"You may take off your things," Aria told him.
"Oh," he whispered, and nodded. His mate inside, now, too, and the door closed. And Ross took off his muzzle-mask first, to let him breath, and ... he blinked. He wasn't used to such unfiltered scents. The whole place smelled ALL of snow rabbits. And while, on the ship, on Arctic, there were many snow rabbits ... the ship's environmental systems kept gently circulating the air. But here, in this tundra house, with not a lot of circulation, the homey smell of rabbit-fur ... hit his nose directly. And he sniffed the air. Again ...
"I take it," Aria said, whispering into his ear, "it agrees with you?"
"Well, my nose is mostly used to it," he said, swallowing, referring to all the times, daily, that he buried his nose in his mate's snowy-soft fur, and just ... breathed in her scent. Breathed it in and held it there. "It does agree with me," he said, nodding, smiling, and removing his paw-gloves. And slipping out of his jacket, too ...
Aria's mother had filtered off (to the kitchen, to fetch warm drinks).
"But, uh ... Aria ... "
"Yes?" she whispered, slipping her own jacket off.
"I smell several ... snow rabbits," he said, "in the house. Not just ... "
"They are not mated, my mother and father. Remember ... "
" ... so, uh, their WHOLE breeding party lives in this one house?" His eyes widened a bit.
"That is generally how it works. Breeding parties share houses."
"Oh." A flush. "Okay ... " He looked around. And let out a breath. No matter how close he was to her, a snow rabbit, or to their culture ... snow rabbit breeding habits still made him blush. Still made him blink. He supposed he was blessed that Aria had ... had wished to devote to him. Because he knew he couldn't do what most snow rabbits did. He was too emotional, and ... jealousy, hurt, inadequacy ... well ... plus, his Christian faith.
"Ross?"
"Mm?" He blinked.
"Perhaps you would wish to sit down?"
A nod, and a deep breath through the nose, savoring the scent ... it made him a bit heady, the smell of so many snow rabbits. And the smell of the wood burning. "Mm. Yeah," he went, and he followed his mate to a couch. One that was facing the fireplace, and they both sat, sinking into the soft cushions. "My, uh ... when I was taken from my home," he whispered, "um ... well, at the time that I left," he said, "my parents had been married twenty-six years. And only to each other. It was ... I always wanted a marriage like that. A mate-ship," he corrected, "like that. And I ... I have it," he whispered shyly, "with you."
An eye-smile from the snow rabbit. "Indeed, you do."
Ross breathed, and leaned his head on her shoulder. His big, dishy swivel-ears a bit frigid on the edges ... and his ear closest to her was resting against one of her ears, and ... " ... Aria," he went.
"Yes?" She put a paw on his thigh.
"You have brothers and sisters ... can I meet them?"
"I have four siblings from my mother, but ... each fathered by a different rabbit. Each breeding group has, ideally, eight rabbits, four males and four femmes. And the group assigns one femme ... as the one to impregnate, birth, and raise the children. My mother is the child-bearer for her group. One of my siblings is older. Three are younger. The middle two may be at school ... as the air indicates. I do not smell them. But I believe my youngest brother is here. His scent is still warm ... so, he must be sleeping."
Ross just nodded shyly, feeling a bit ... well, awkward? No, not awkward, but a bit ... nervous. Anxious. All this snow rabbit breeding stuff. So complicated. And he was feeling anxious about meeting Aria's family, and ... he supposed that was a universal feeling, though: anxiety at meeting a mate's parents ... her family. What would they think of you? Would you get along with them? Would they give you a hard time because you were different? He could only IMAGINE being able to go home, now, as a vole, and bring his snow rabbit bride into the room, and say, "Hey, mom, hey, dad ... uh ... yeah, we're in love." The thought made him giggle-squeak slightly.
"What is it?" Aria asked, with her poise. With her calm.
"Just thinking ... "
"About?"
"Family," was all he said. And he felt a sad, sad pang. And ... tried not to think about it ... being lost from them, and them not knowing why, and ... sometimes, it made him horribly sick at night. He prayed about it. And that was all he could do, for he knew: he could never go home again. And he twitched weakly.
It was then that Aria's mother returned, balancing a tray with both paws. With a pitcher of something hot. And with white mugs. Snow rabbits seemed to love white, and ... well, the reasons were obvious. The second most-prominent color with them seemed to be blue. Ross noticed the carpet was blue. As were the curtains. Just like how all their eyes were blue ... the couch was blue, too, but the walls were white.
"Hot chocolate?" Aria asked, sniffing. Her whiskers giving a twitch.
"Yes. I thought you would prefer it to hot tea or coffee ... you always did."
Aria looked up, eye-smiling. "You remembered."
"I birthed you. I raised you. I think I would remember the least of things ... such as your preference in hot beverages." A bit of a head-tilt. And then she looked to Ross. "When she was little, coming in from playing ... she would always want hot chocolate. Even when the other children began drinking coffee."
"I never liked the taste of coffee," Aria said.
"It is the finest organic suspension known to furs. It is a mature drink," her mother assured. "And you have always been stubborn."
"I do not like coffee," Aria repeated.
Ross's eyes went from one to the other, wondering if they were teasing each other ... or arguing with each other. With their neutral, logical tones, it was hard to tell. You had to watch their eyes. To see if they were eye-smiling, or ... or what ...
"Ross?"
"Yes?"
"You may pour yourself a drink," Aria said.
"Okay, um ... okay," he said, and he poured himself a mug of the rich, creamy hot chocolate. And he smiled brightly, joking aloud, "What, no marshmallows?"
Aria and her mother blinked. Her mother asking, "What are marshmallows?"
"Are you serious?" Ross asked, blinking, looking to his steaming mug, and ... " ... uh ... well, never mind." And he eyed the little graham-like crackers that were on a plate on the tray. And he took one, and ... nibble-nibbled.
Aria squinted at her mate. Figuring, rightly, that marshmallows were a human thing, and a bit concerned ... that he'd even brought them up.
Ross just blushed beneath his fur, sipping daintily at his drink. And trying not to spill cracker-crumbs.
"Well," said Aria's mother, breaking the silence. "Your father will be here in a minute. He has been very busy."
"So have I," Aria assured.
"That is right," her mother said, taking a seat in a cushy chair across from the couch they were on. A coffee table sat between them. "You are a Captain now? You have your own ship?"
"I have written you about it. I have talked to you over the comm ... "
"So you have," her mother said, her waggle-ears waggling. "We are all very pleased."
"Where are your other partners?" Aria asked.
"Busy."
"I smell some in the house."
Aria's mother raised her brow, eye-smiling. "Do you?"
Aria flushed, making a bit of a face. "You knew I was coming ... could you not have done your breeding earlier?"
"I lost track of time. Besides, since when do snow rabbits need to curtail their urges?"
Ross just busied himself with his drink, ears turning a bit hot. A bit rosy-pink.
"When their daughters," Aria said, "are visiting."
"Aria, I get the feeling that you disapprove of us ... you and your taking of a singular mate. Devoting to him? Are you embarrassed that your family follows traditional practice?"
"I do not believe this is a proper topic for discussion," was all Aria said, though ... clearly, she did disapprove. And couldn't resist but adding, "It makes me uncomfortable to know that my mother and father ... spend the majority of their time in the beds of other rabbits."
"Did you not grow up as snow rabbit, Aria? Are you not STILL a snow rabbit? What has happened to you?" Her mother squinted. "You were too young to be a soldier in the war ... we should not have let you fight," she lamented. "What," she whispered, "did the Arctic foxes do to you?" she whispered.
"I wished to fight," Aria said fiercely, not answering the last question. "I wanted to protect my species."
"Protect your species. And yet ... you are ashamed of our instincts."
"The inability to love is not an instinct."
"I have a great affection for you, Aria ... you know that. We all do."
"I want more than affection from the creatures that conceived me."
Ross, flushing hard, not knowing what else to say or do ... stared at his mug, and did a bit of a head-bob, swallowing some hot chocolate, and saying aloud, with a mousey smile, "Mm! Chocolatey!"
"Aria, why did you wish to visit? Did you want my approval?" her mother asked, either not hearing Ross or choosing to ignore him. "Of your behaviors? Or your change? Of your mate? Are you seeking validation?"
"I am simply visiting," she replied blankly.
"I see." A pause. "Well, your father should be here soon. He was hoping you would've taken the Nome. For your captaincy."
"The Nome is an all-snow rabbit ship."
"Yes."
"The High Command wished for me to have the Arctic. I was the most qualified snow rabbit to captain a mixed crew. The High Command recognizes the need to expand ... "
"The High Command is not immune to error. They are becoming complacent. I do not think they know what is best for our species." A breath. And her mother leaned back in her chair. "Were I not my breeding group's designated child-raiser ... I would still be in the service. As you are. I suppose you followed in my foot-paws ... "
Aria said nothing to that. Only, "Where is Bering? I wish to see my baby brother ... "
"He is sleeping."
"Will he wake soon?"
"I breast-fed him an hour ago, and he went to sleep soon after," was her mother's response. "And, then, I spent some time with one of my partners. I ... you were never punctual. I thought I had more time."
"I wish to hold him," Aria said, ignoring that last comment. "I ... wish for him to know my face."
"You are worried he will grow up and not know who you are? Because you are always away?"
"If he wakes before we part, I would wish to hold him," Aria said simply.
"That would be acceptable." And her mother looked to Ross, who was nibbling on more graham crackers. "He has been awfully quiet."
"I believe he is intimidated," Aria said, finishing off a mug of hot chocolate.
The logs crackled in the fireplace, and the glow of the flames cast shadows ... along with the lit lamps.
Aria's mother eye-smiled. "Do not be," she assured the vole. "We are often like this. Aria has always been ... curious," she said, "about emotion. About other species. She is not an old hard-liner like myself." And eye-smile. That indicated, maybe, she was making a bit of a joke. "But she is my daughter, and I am," she said, looking to Aria, "very proud of her."
Aria's, flushing a bit, gave a grateful nod.
"After all, family is family ... no matter where we have gone or what we have done," her mother whispered. "The bonds are not broken so easily."
"And I would not wish them to be broken," Aria said aloud, eyes looking vulnerable. Aria, throughout all of this, displaying a larger amount of visible emotion than her mother had been. Aria's ears waggled, and her whiskers twitched.
"But, what, Ross, of you? I wish to hear from you," her mother said.
"Well, uh, what do you want to know," Ross asked, pouring himself some more hot chocolate, and ... giving a look to Aria. She nodded, and he poured her some more, as well.
"Why are you so taken with my daughter?"
"Well, uh ... I love her." His whiskers twitched and nose sniffed, and his tail snaked.
"But why? Why her? Why not a member of your own species?"
"Because ... she's smart, sensual, passionate. She's ... kind. She's ... I love her," was all Ross said, blushing hard beneath his fur. He wasn't good at answering questions under pressure. He cleared his throat, giving a little squeak.
The door opened, and a rush of cold air ... as a new snow rabbit entered.
"Father," stated Aria, standing. Her bobtail flicking behind her, almost in excitement.
"Daughter," was his formal response.
She padded over to him, waiting until he'd slipped off his jacket ... before they pressed noses and closed eyes, breathing, and ... parting. Eyes opening.
"You look well," he said, nodding at her.
"I feel it. I am very glad to see you," she said. "I have missed you."
Ross, watching the scene, got the impression that, maybe, Aria was more a daddy's rabbit ... than a mother's rabbit. And he wouldn't have necessarily figured that. But maybe he was reading too much into it ...
"You are a Captain now, yes?" her father stated, putting his winter attire up ... and padding closer to the fire. Stopping in front of Aria's mother, and running his fingers along her waggle-ears ... which drew an eye-smile from Aria's mother, and ... her father padded to the couch, looking down at Ross.
"Hello, uh ... sir." Ross extended a paw.
Her father blinked.
"It is sometimes customary," said Aria, "for warm-blood furs to grasp and shake paws upon greeting ... "
"I see," he whispered. And gave a look to Aria, who was returning to the couch. "Are the warm-bloods on Arctic giving you trouble?"
"No, father," she said quietly.
"I would have preferred if you had taken the Nome ... I would've felt better about your safety."
"I know."
"Is Arctic good enough?"
"It is a Crystalline-Class vessel."
"I see. Well ... still ... " And he raised his brow at Ross. "I do not shake paws. You will have to stand and nose-nuzzle."
Ross nodded shyly, whiskers twitching, and thin tail snaking slightly in the air behind him. And he stood, and ... pressed his nose to Aria's father's ... and closed his eyes and breathed. And, after a few seconds, parted. And, flushing, he sat back down.
"That is good," her father said, eye-smiling. "We may make a snow rabbit of you yet."
Her mother eye-smiled, too, giving a mew-sound. They obviously both found the comment amusing.
"May I sit?" her father asked.
Ross nodded, and ... scooted over, closer to Aria, and ... was now sandwiched between the two snow rabbits on the couch. It was easier to tell of the middle-age of Aria's father ... than it was with her mother. His ears were graying. The fur on his ears. And his paws were graying, too. But, still, Aria was twenty-two, and ... she'd told Ross, before, that her mother had birthed her at eighteen, so that made her mother, what, exactly forty? So, her father must've been forty-two, forty-three ...
"So, Ross, what is it that you do?" Aria's father asked.
"Um ... well, lots of things. I'm the ship's cook. Our morale officer. And ... I'm an artist," he said, putting his mug down. Holding his ropy tail in his paws.
"I see. Those are noble pursuits. Art and food are necessary for survival ... "
A quiet nod.
"But are you not able to do anything else? What of the sciences? What of ... "
" ... father," Aria said.
"I am simply questioning him."
"He is of great worth to my ship. And, more importantly, to me."
"That is good to hear," her father said. "But, if you pardon me saying so, I believe your mouse to be ... a professional daydreamer. I see that look in his eyes. He is always dreaming."
"There is nothing wrong with dreaming," Aria said.
"No. So long as you accept that dreams have limits."
Ross just flushed, let go of his tail and started nibbling on another cracker.
"I just need to be sure, daughter, that he can take care of you. That he is strong enough, able enough ... to keep my daughter safe."
"I ... I can," Ross stammered. "I can keep her safe."
"With what means?"
"My faith," Ross said. "My faith," he whispered. "My heart, and my soul. My love. I keep her safe with things that rust and rot do not destroy. With things that do not fail." Taking a confident breath, the meadow mouse said, "You needn't worry about your daughter. She is in good paws."
He turned his head and looked to Ross, and nodded lightly. "Well-said," he whispered. "Very well." A pause. "But changes do come, mouse, and turn our worlds around. You cannot let such changes ... shift your beliefs. You must stand your ground. We may be different. We may not see eye-to-eye, but ... it is more important for you to have a rock-solid sense of morality, of character ... than for you to ingratiate yourself with me. Are you THAT kind of strong?"
"I am," Ross whispered assuredly, meeting the snow rabbit's eyes. Whiskers twitching, and ... he swallowed.
"Then I know my daughter's lover is pure," was the head-tilting response.
Ross just flushed, nodding gratefully.
"Now, on to brighter things," he said, eye-smiling, and exchanging a look with his breeding partner ... it was odd to think that, to him, Aria's mother was just another breeding partner. Ross couldn't wrap his mind around how ... how they could do that. How they could detach from each other in such ways ... " ... your mother and I have been wondering," he said, looking to Aria, and still eye-smiling, "if you will be adding to our family line."
"I plan on it, yes."
"Have you tried?" her mother asked hopefully.
"Yes. But ... I have yet to be fertilized. I will keep trying," she assured. She didn't betray that she and Ross were having trouble getting her pregnant. Didn't mention that snow rabbits and mouses were on the edge of compatibility, so ... they only had a ten percent chance of being naturally successful (or else they'd have to resort to artificial insemination, which would mean, ultimately, getting semen from one of the male snow rabbits on Arctic, and that was a whole other thing that Ross would prefer ... to avoid). But, obviously, snow rabbits highly valued virility and reproductive abilities ... infertility was greatly pitied ...
"We were hoping you would," her mother continued. "You will keep us informed as to your progress?"
"Of course," was Aria's gentle whisper.
"And we do hope that, despite anything ... you will at least honor the tradition of giving birth here. At home." No snow rabbit had ever been born off-world, and ... normally, they gave birth in the same town, home, et cetera ... where they, themselves, had been born.
"I will adhere to that," Aria assured. "I am, after all, a snow rabbit." A pause. "But I cannot guarantee when that will happen. My next heat is in two weeks. I will try," she assured again. "I do wish it ... family is important to me," she assured. "Creating new life ... is the greatest act of creation."
"We ARE proud of you, Aria," her mother said (as she'd said earlier).
"Thank you," Aria whispered, eye-smiling, and she took a deep breath. "Is anybody else going to come and see me?" she asked, looking around. Referring to her parents' other breeding partners, and the various children they'd all spawned together ...
"They rightly wished that we could have some private time with you ... before any social get-together developed."
Aria eye-smiled. "I can stay all day," she assured, her posture bright. "We can stay through supper." She reached for Ross's paw ... and squeezed it. "There is much we can discuss together," she said, looking back to her parents. "I wish to tell you of our missions, and ... " She trailed, and a more serious look came upon her muzzle. " ... of our recent Arctic fox rescue ... "
"I have been dealing with the ramifications of that," her father said. "I have been assigned to help direct temporary infrastructures on the second moon. To house them all. It is a grave mess." He got suddenly cold. "I do want them in our system," he breathed.
"We have been assigned," Aria assured, "to find a new planet for them ... "
"That is good, daughter. I am glad you have the best interests of our species at heart. Though do not misunderstand me: I feel for them ... what they have lost, but ... I do think they brought it upon themselves. And their crimes against us ... make it hard for me to forgive them."
"I have forgiven them," Aria assured. "One cannot have faith and ... refuse them that."
"Well," her father said. "You are correct." A pause. A breath. And he changed the course of the conversation with, "There is much to talk about!" And he stood, eye-smiling, and rubbing his paws together. "I shall fetch the others, and ... we shall have a huge meal together."
"And I shall wake your baby brother, after all," Aria's mother said.
Aria's eyes glowed happily. "Thank you."
"And, Ross," said her father.
"Yes, sir?" the meadow mouse responded.
"Welcome to our family ... consider yourself," he said, head-tilting, "adopted. And I can tell from how you look at each other, that ... you must be a good breeder. To make my daughter flush as she does." A huge eye-smile. "While growing up, while still at home ... she had quite an appetite. As her first breeding group can attest to."
Ross flushed hard. "Um ... uh ... thanks," he stammered, not sure how to take that.
"But, she never moved in with them ... she joined the service first," her father said proudly. "And, now, she has ... decided to take a mate. And, I must say, I do not know much of you ... you are very quiet. But I take that as a good sign. We shall get you talking before you leave tonight."
Ross just nodded shyly.
"Well ... I shall get the others, then, and have a meal fixed." And Aria's father left the room ... and her mother followed him.
... leaving Ross to take a deep breath and let it out, and look to Aria, his love, his mate. "I had no idea," he whispered to her, smiling, "that you were such a hometown rabbit."
She just eye-smiled back. "They like you," she assured. "I was worried they would not."
The fire crackled and flickered in the fireplace, flames lapping the logs.
"Are you okay?" she asked, paws gently on his arm.
"Yeah, I ... just so different," he said. "I feel the odd-fur-out."
She kissed his cheek soothingly. "It will be fine. Just relax ... or attempt to," she added, knowing that telling rodents to relax was, often, a bit contrary.
Ross managed a smile.
And though it was frigid outside, it was, in here, much better. Not so bad at all.