Emerin took a bite of her honey comb. She had not had anything this sweet in a long time; she questioned whether she could finish it or not. The Aronots were quite strict with their diets and while Emerin was human, being on a Aronot ship she was expected to follow their rules. She had an Organic Synth like most intelligent beings for medical purposes. OrgSynths monitored everything in her body, everything from what she last ate to her endorphin levels to keep track of her health. Most use their monitors to regulate the chemicals in their body for optimal health; Aronots take it to the extremes.
While doctors recommend keeping percentages within the 30th percentile mark, Aronots keep their levels within the 5th percentile. The outcome of this was a constant diet and rigorous mental and physical exercises. Emerin did not mind much, she merely needed to follow the instructions from the extension the Aronot nutritionist had added to her synth. Occasionally she would disregard it and eat a little treat but the synth automatically adjusted to the change. Aronots tended to prefer savory foods anyway. Emerin was allowed her brief bouts with sugar through fruits or whatever delicasies were found at stops. The massive starship was currently docked at the ports of Isimon. The dusty desert planet was dry and had an acidic quality to its air. A few years ago Emerin would have had to wear an AtSuit on the planet but the atmosphere had evolved into a milder climate and atmosphere. The planet smelled of rust and strangely, roasted almonds. More exotic planets had unique smells to their atmosphere, Rósha smelled of raspberry rum, it was enough to make one's mouth water. However, most planets tended to smell repugnant to all but the natives; Rósha was lucky.
A young Isimon native stopped to stare at Emerin. He had the characteristic red skin of the Isimon and claypots. His black wayward hair matched his eyes; Isimon had no Sclera, only pupils. Emerin stared back at the boy, Isimon are nocturnal, why was he awake? His eyes must be burning from the sun. He fidgeted, clearly he was uncomfortable with her presence. Why was clear, she had no need to ask him. She was human and at that a Nomad. Dressed in her nomadic garb and her figure large and unyielding was an intimidating sight to any Amani, not just a young Isimon. The boy mumbled in the tongue of Isimon, surprising Emerin. She had not spoken in fear of scaring him but he appeared to be trying to converse with her. She cleared her throat, readying herself for the rumbling of Isimoni tongue.
“Young one, speak to my face, not your feet. I can not hear the same mumblings your sandals can.” She smiled gently, hoping the jest would relax him. Instead the boy tensed more. Emerin cursed herself, she had forgotten teeth showing was a sign of aggression in Isimoni culture. “Ah, I apologize. Humans showing teeth can be meant pleasantly as well as aggressively. I would not mean to bear ill’s to any young.” Isimon, a cruel place where any grown adult would beat a youth in a heartbeat. Humans, while not so cruel to the young, the Isimoni was far more terrified of her than the figure in the distance that had beaten him before. Emerin saw, but could do nothing because of inter-planet laws. She supposed her regretful stare at the display made her appear even more cruel and frighting to the young one. She tilted her head and he finally spoke.
“Will you hurt me too?” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. His wide eyes poured into hers. She knew she should not answer him, humans and nomads kept themselves feared for good reasons. The burning acid in her stomach swelled, the heat boiling behind her face. She despised it so much; she was not a monster.
“Never,” Her voice came out harsher than she meant and he flinched but relaxed once he realized what she had spoken. “Are you hungry?” She asked. It was the boys' turn to be surprised. She did not wait for his answer, his bones stretching his skin answered that for him. Digging through her bag for some Plae bread she questioned about the Isimon abuser. “Was that your father?”
“NO!” He shouted. Briefly suprised, Em glanced at the boy.
“Of course not. Do you have any parents?” She said while handing him her emergency supply of Plae.
“None to speak good of.” She cautioned him to eat slowly lest he make himself sick, but the boy ignored her and gouged himself on the bread. Sighing, Em knew it was a horrible idea but she asked him.
“Youth has no need to stay then?” He paused gnawing on the bread briefly to answer her.
“I have no place to go so I stay. Out in the desert I would die.” Em snorted.
“You are hardly alive in the state you are in.” the boy glared back, at least he had some fight in him.
“What is your call? Surely I can not address you as Youth forever.” She smiled with no teeth this time and gave him a traditional Isimon greeting, two quick clicks of the tongue. It was an odd greeting, but Em supposed it was much odder to him to smile with teeth to be friendly. He looked surprised, it clearly had been a long time since someone had greeted him with any semblance of dignity and friendship. He quickly shook himself out of stupor and responded in kind.
“Bala.”
“Greets Bala, I am known as Esos.” The boy's eyes widened with fear again. It was unsurprising, Esos was a notorious name. She was probably one of the most feared human nomads in this and the nearby galaxies. "Bala? Do you fear my call? For what reason? Have I not given you bread?" The boy's eyes shifted, it was hard to tell where he was looking specifically because of the all black of his eyes. Esos tilted her head, her black waves slipping out of her Shav-ah-asa. Shav-ah-asa are similar garments to the Shayla that had once been worn by some Muslim and Saudi women in Ancient Prithvi, now it had a much different meaning. The women of Ancient Prithvi would have most likely been shocked by how lax she was about how she wore the garment and not have considered it respectful for their purposes, but one never knows what the Ancients would have thought. "Ah," Esos exclaimed, "I have some meat. Meat for you." Looking up from her pack she handed the boy some pork. The boy was too famished to ignore the meat. He ate it with the same urgency he had the bread. "Hmm," She hummed. In a musing tone she asked the boy, "May I give you a dream child?" Bala jerked away from Esos. Bala trembled.
"Do you not know what that means here?" Em allowed herself a small laugh, confusing the boy further.
"Of course, you know of me do you not?" The notorious Esos would know without a doubt. Sharing dreams is within family in Isimon. Adoptions did not happen on Isimon, orphaned children were left to die. If there were Adoptions it surely would be sealed through dreams, it meant you were family. Marriages were not official things on Isimon either but the faux ones were made through dreams. "I will keep you safe. No one will lay a hand on you with me, and you will always eat." She stared directly in his eyes as she swore her vow. Touching her forehead between her brows then touching her sternum and lastly reaching her hand out in the symbol of Chani, the Goddess of truth. "I swear my blood if you, Bala of Isimon, accept me, Esos of the Inanis, and my dream, to protect you with my being and to feed and clothe you, under the stars, Enashu, Chani, the Inanis, and the spirit of Prithvi." People had stopped to stare at Esos and Bala at this point. Mouths agape and eyes widened. Nomads, let alone humans, rarely swore their loyalty. Esos had sworn in the promise of Enashu, she could not break the promise, she was bound by the most powerful forces in the universe and the expenses beyond it. The air around them crackled with energy from the very threads of the world, waiting to bind Esos to her promise if the boy accepted the proposal. "What do you choose? Bala, child?" The boy hesitated, then he jumped to life and clasped her hand. He had eager eyes; he had been waiting for fate to smile upon him. “Ah,” Esos smiled. “I have a young one to care for now.” She was bemused with her own decision, but did not regret it nontheless. The boy began to quake as he felt the power of her dream, closing his eyes in concentration, gripping her palm with both hands as to sustain their connection. Em, could feel it sliping between them, the boy would soon possess it too. Bala fell to his knees and heaved a sigh, letting go. It was done. She began to hum, perking the little one's ears.
“What is fated for me? I have not yet known beyond this rock.”
“Ah, greets!” She exclaimed towards the heavens.
“Greets?”
“Yes, you will come to know many. I will secure you a passage with me to Inanis, our home, where you will no longer be Amani, and become a part of the Inanis.”
“Great Esos,”
“Nay, Emerin.”
“Emerin?”
“Yes, my call to those which are not strangers. I am hardly Esos to you, my child, Bala.”
“Ah, I am only Bala.” Esos stared at the boy, much must be done for him to become Inanshu. “Are all dreams like that?” He would not have received another, Em could see. She would have never given him a dream if he had received another.
“Child, I answer not for you know the tales of Esos.”
“Yes…of you.”
“Of me,” She paused with a thought. “Come.” Bala stumbled to follow as Em rose and turned towards the port. He questioned her as to where they might go. “Have you things to finish, or to gather and take?” Of course he did not; they continued onwards in the dusty red haze of Isimon.