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Humans are Weird - Repression

4/29/2024

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Humans are Weird - Repression

First Sister critically examined the edge of the spearhead and gave a dissatisfied click. She set the head down by it’s long socket and carefully loosened her work glove. She flexed her fingers to work air under the material, when her hand felt dry enough she retied the wrist of the glove and picked the whetstone back up, bracing the spearhead she continued to hone the edge. The rasping of the work was making her antenna twitch but the repetitive, productive nature of the task was soothing, and she was nicely focused when the floor of her hive-chamber began to vibrate with the approach of an agitated human. First Sister paused to tilt her head at the large ‘beanbag’ she kept on her floor for just such emergencies. She set the spearhead down, picked up one end of the shaft and used the other end to knock a stack of various digging tools in need of sharpening off the bean bag onto the floor, that done she turned back to her work.
Human Second Cousin Betty paused at the entrance to her hive-chamber to pound twice at the wall with her fist, some human tradition meant to announce their intent to enter closed rooms, and stumbled into the hive-chamber before casting her narrow focus around the space and then flinging herself full length onto the beanbag with a muffled scream of frustration. First Sister felt her antenna curl in slight amusement but kept her focus angled on the edge of the spear. Human Second Cousin Betty heaved a sigh and spent several long moments staring glumly at the pile of work blunted digging tools on the floor beside the beanbag. By the time First Sister was satisfied with the spear edges and was sliding the socket over the shaft, Human Second Cousin Betty had snatched up a three pronged tool and an extra whetstone and was honing the tines, without safety gloves, but with reasonable skill.
“Use your freakish human hand strength to fit this spearhead?” First Sister asked absently, handing over the tool to her.
Human Second Cousin Betty gave one of those explosive, and expressive outbursts of air, a ‘snort’ First Sister thought it was called and tool the shaft and socket, easily forcing them together with a flick of her wrists before tossing it back onto the table in front of the Shatar. They continued working in companionable silence as Human Second Cousin Betty’s pheromones grew steadily more intense. First Sister was in no way surprised when Human Second Cousin Betty finally growled and tossed her head.
“It is just going to be such a pain!” she burst out, giving a trowel a particularly strong stroke with the whet stone.
“I am sure it will,” First Sister observed into the expectant silence.
“It’s, like a sacred, or not really, but almost a sacred – I mean it’s not that important. It’s just fandom after all, not anything religious, except how we are supposed to take other’s needs, and like their wants, into account as a religious duty, but more than that, I mean it would be cruel to, no, not cruel exactly, unfair?” Human Second Cousin Betty scowled down at the textured surface of the whetstone, and her bare fingers holding it, for a moment before continuing. “But, yeah, see even if it’s not sacred exactly, it’s still a duty, and it is going to be such a pain!”
The human turned her eyes, glistening like opals, on First Sister and the Shatar sensed that she was required to make a reply.
“What duty exactly?” She asked, opting for the obvious question over the obvious ignorance.
Human Second Cousin Betty sat up suddenly and her face flexed with surprise, then amusement, then concentration as she set the tools aside to bring her hands into the conversation for vague emphatic context.
“Right,” she said slowly, “You don’t, but I told you, hold on...okay. So you remember that still image media that started coming in from the homeworld a few years back?”
“The one about defending your gardens from the statistically impossible megafauna?” First Sister asked, giving a few test stabs with the spear. “Or the one about the Battle Sisters with masculine features who dressed in flamboyant colors to fight miscreants?”
“The second one,” Human Second Cousin Betty said nodding eagerly. “Well they just released the animated form and Susie is really getting into it.”
“And this imposes some important social duty on you?” First Sister asked.
“I can’t say a word!” Human Second Cousin Betty nearly howled, throwing herself back on the beanbag.
First Sister clicked in concern and tilted her head.
“You are experiencing conflict with Human First Sister Susan?” She asked uneasily. An intrahive conflict sufficient to stop the gregarious Fist Sister from communicating would be a deep concern indeed.
“What, no!” Human Second Cousin Betty exclaimed, shoving her long hair back over her shoulder. “But I’ve read the still form so I know how the story goes, my hair is full of spoilers! And if I let even one slip before the animated form reaches the current story point Susie would be like, fully justified in stabbing me!”
First Sister titled her head to the side and stared for a long quiet moment at the human sprawled there, staring back at her so intently. She knew very well that the human cousins would never deliberately stab each other, not after the accidental incident had traumatized them so badly. Clearly there was some context about discussing the story in some way that would ‘spoil’ the experience for Human First Sister Susie. The verb spoil, First Sister clearly understood, that is what happened when fermentation proceeded too quickly to result in a satisfactory end product, how the coiling vine of a story could ‘spoil’ was beyond her however. She took in the earnest look Human Second Cousin Betty was fixing on her and settled for a sympathetic click in response.
“Not talking about it must be very stressful for you,” First Sister observed, setting the spear aside and picking up another tool.
“I know! Right?” Human Second Cousin Betty burst out, likewise reaching for the next item to be prepared for work.
Clearly the human was in the mood to talk and simply needed someone to listen to fulfill her social needs. If the concept of ‘spoiling’ a story was explained in the process that would be quite the bonus. 
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Humans are Weird - Defensive

4/23/2024

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Humans are Weird - Defensive

Fourth Trill was swooping down one of the air vents enjoying how almost normal it felt. Most human forged air vent systems were all horribly unnatural, echoing angles, usually made of some material that shrieked and moaned constantly under the pressure of the very atmosphere it carried. Fortunately this base was fairly new and the humans had been experimenting with a more ‘natural’ airflow dynamic based off of observed patterns in some Terrestrial insect species. Something with a venomous sting that human entomologists where very passionate about insisting were not the primary reason Winged were still banned from the human homeworld and most of the oldest colonies. Fourth Trill had made the mistake of flying into the conversational air zone of the ‘those are not bees’ debate once, and while he was not adverse to a nice argument about technical accuracy vs the merits of common usage he really didn’t want to ride that thermal any time soon.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury! I ask you to consider this-”
The voice, warped and distorted, but comfortably so to sensitive sensory horns, suddenly cut off, the passionate tone, a strange mix of command and entreaty leaving a sensation of a suddenly stopped thermal in Fourth Trill’s chest and he turned with delight to follow the voice to its source. Technically Winged were not supposed to travel through the air vents, for a wing’s spread of safety and privacy reasons, but as they could, and quite frankly because they would, there were safety latches installed on every vent panel. Because these vent panels were designed to both human and Shatar asthetic standards, who both had very plant like tastes, that meant that the seam was invisible and the holes mimicked the stomata of broad-leaf plants, incidentally making the vents all but invisible unless, say a human was looking deliberately for the panel, and as this human was being quite loud there was no way for Fourth Trill, not practically anyway, to signal his intent to enter the room loudly enough for the human to hear him. So, balancing social interaction protocols it was perfectly morally acceptable that Fourth Trill’s nose tendrils were wriggling with delighted mischief as he triggered the latching mechanism and entered the hardly private study room where the human was currently pacing back and fourth, bent over a handful of papers.
Forth Trill swung the vent panel to the side and stepped into clear sight of the human, or what would have been clear sight if the human were not making eye contact with the empty air approximately sitting-human-eye-level above a double row of six chairs each. Fourth Trill studied the situation critically even as his fur puffed and smoothed with barely contained amusement. The human, new to this small outpost college, had gone to some effort to arrange the furniture of this room, and several other rooms by the looks of it. Moving that much mass alone was impressive. Following the ‘natural’ aesthetic the furniture had been carved from the native wood of the planet and had been left the raw color. Several tables that must have weighed kilograms each were upended, providing one raised seat against the far wall. The human was currently speaking towards what must be twelve envisioned humans in the twelve isolated chairs (humans seemed to like the number twelve for some reason) and the rest of the space had been sectioned off into what must be spectator seating. From the sound of it the human was guiding the envisioned humans through one side of an argument concerning a contract referencing some extreme body modification and if it the terms of the contract were binding or not.
Fourth Trill waited until every motion of the human showed him to be reaching the emotional height of his argument and the Winged felt his mouth open in a grin. He took off and hovered in the air at human eye level for the distance. No one could claim that he was trying to sneak up on the human, and swept slowly, grandly down to rest on the back of one of the chairs that the human had gestured at before. Fourth Trill stood up and flared his wings out in a way that would be easy to defend as being just for balance, because he was perched on the back of a chair that was not designed for a Winged’s comfort. If it also made him look bigger than usual to a human, there was no way to prove that effect was anything but incidental. He then carefully arranged his lips and the angle of his jaw to show as many of his needle thin, razor sharp teeth as possible. It was well known that Winged tried to mimic human body language to comfort them when they were stressed. He was debating if he should flare or relax his nose frills when the sweep of the human’s gaze swept over him.
“And furthermore! This minor -”
The low, rumbling mammalian r sound dissolved into a much more soothing range as the human interrupted his presentation with a shriek that reached impressively high pitches for such a large mammal. The sweeping gesture of his arm transformed into a flail even as his feet and legs lost their ever precarious balance and he stumbled several steps along the vector his arm pulled his center of mass. The human managed to counterbalance and then stabilize his mass, his eyes blinking slackly as he stared at Fourth Trill, who was very much not (visibly) vibrating with amusement. That would have been undignified. When the silence grew boring Fourth Trill, somewhat regretfully, it was a good grin and a shame to disturb it, opened his mouth to speak.
“Greetings! Were you practicing your legal defense style?” Fourth Trill asked, fluffing his fur out in a perfectly innocent fashion.
The human, now standing tall and relatively stable, glared at him suspiciously for a moment, but they both knew that he could never prove intent in the circumstances and the glare faded into a sigh as the human started to quickly gather his papers, presumably legal notes, and shove them into his massive carry satchel.
“Yes,” he muttered.
“It sounds like a very interesting case,” Fourth Trill observed. “A mature individual coercing a child into an illegal contract. What species does this involve? I am not aware of any aquatic sapient species?”
Blood rushed to the surface of the human’s bare skin dying it a bright red, giving the mammal an almost natural looking color and the human shoved the papers in more quickly. Forth Trill felt a little thrill of excitement. The human was embarrassed by this case. If he could tease the details out of him this should be very amusing.
“Tricky defense,” the human muttered, in low difficult to hear tones. “The young one was mature by her own cultural standards.”
Fourth Trill took to wing and just managed to catch a look at the title of one of the documents.
“How odd!” he exclaimed. “Most legal cases are referred to by at least two names on Earth aren’t they? So-and-so verses so-and-so if I remember correctly?”
The human nodded uneasily and began walking towards the door briskly.
“Why is there only one party named in the title of the case?” Fourth Trill pressed, taking to wing and circling the human.
“It’s not,” the human muttered, deliberately avoiding eye contact and blushing again as he tried to angle towards the door while avoiding Fourth Trill’s flight path.
“What was the title of the case?” Fourth Trill demanded, guessing at the meaning of the human’s vague statement.
The human stopped walking and fixed his eyes on the far wall. Fourth Trill could see when he made a decision, the broad face smoothing and tightening in grim focus.
“There was no case,” the human said with forced calmness in his tones. “The events were fictional and the contract dispute was never taken to a court of law. For the purposes of practice I hypothesized a scenario where it was.”
“That sounds very interesting,” Fourth Trill pressed, feeling a shift in the conversational wind that favored him. “I would like to research this, who was the other claimant in the process?”
The human’s face flushed again and his thick jaw worked convulsively. Fourth Trill gleefully counted that as a win as the human with forced deliberation drew a deep breath.
“The sea witch Ursula,” he said in tones laced with irritation. “The contract was between the little mermaid Ariel and the sea witch Ursula.”
The confession over the human relaxed with a gust of air that seemed to let all the tension out of him and his face twisted into a rueful smile.
“Though in older versions the sea witch had no name,” he said, “but as she was far less nefarious in the older versions it is less fun to take to trial. There is no way to attack her for lack of due diligence in those stories, and no way to attack her for interference.”
“I look forward to researching this,” Fourth Trill declared.
The human smiled, with real amusement this time, and nodded before sweeping his mass out of the room. Fourth Trill gave a delighted chitter. From the human’s reactions he had mined as much amusement out of this situation as possible. It might however be worth investigating why a legal focus human academic would feel so initially embarrassed to be caught using this little mermaid and sea witch for dramatic legal practice.  
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Humans are Weird - Semi-Aquatic Mammals

4/15/2024

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Humans are Weird - Semi-Aquatic Mammals

A general detritus pile the humans had stacked up in the northwest corner of the meadow when preparing the area for occupation had suddenly sprung into frantic movement; the crumpled bodies of last year’s leaves lifting into the air and then drifting down again, sticks and logs heaving up on their ends and then toppling over with soft, muted thumps. Notes the Passing Changes turned local attention away from the delighted squealing of the human young in the main channel of the stream and calculated whether it would be better to use the trees eyes or send up dedicated photo receptors. One of the human’s non-sapient pets cut through the duff with it’s sharp hooves and that decided the question. Notes the Passing Changes eased fibers into the fungal network, well below the level that the non-sapient mammals could reach and distributed enough so that even if a human took it in mind to start digging with a shovel not much mass would be lost, and peered through the many eyes of the tree.
In the heat of the afternoon the tree was alert and keenly aware. The vision from their eyes was as clear as it got. The detritus pile was writhing with activity, and when Notes the Passing Changes attuned to the local sound profile the thin voice of an Undulate out of water explained the situation. It looked as if nearly half a dozen Undulates of various sizes were vigorously rearranging the detritus pile and Notes the Passing Changes grew more interested and curious. The interest only intensified when the Undulate version of Notes the Passing Changes own name became clear. However it took several moments to extend fibers, and test the trees to determine how to best generate sound.
“Are you attempting to contact me?” Notes the Passing Changes asked of the pile in general.
The movement paused suddenly, and then resumed as the six Undulates scrambled their way to the surface of the pile and popped out of the leaves and sticks one at a time, their leading gripping appendages, identifiable by being slightly rougher and more work damaged than the rest of their mass, waving gently as they absorbed the light and sound to orientate themselves. Notes the Passing Changes gave a directional hum to aid the process and the Undulates broke into excited chatter for a moment. Before the largest one waved vigorously, seeming to quite the tumult.
“Greetings Gathering Acquaintance Notes the Passing Changes,” the Undulate said with the precise articulation of one who has only recently squired the sound profiles of a new language and isn’t quite sure of them. “I am Waveseagerly.”
“Greetings Undulate Acquaintance Waveseagerly,” Notes the Passing Changes replied, testing and refining the sounds as they came out.
“This isn’t you?” Waveseagerly asked, patting the detritus pile around him curiously.
“If you are seeking a communications node cluster,” Note the Passing Changes said, “I find it counterproductive to generate them where human livestock and children congregate. Nodes formed under those conditions are too liable to damage. My memory is distributed deep in the soil in these recreation areas, or in the protection of the larger trees. There is a proper communications node in a sheltered area near the more permanent human dwellings if you wish to interact with one.”
There was a general shuffle of soil colored appendages as they consulted each other before the largest one gestured them silent again.
“No, no, this will do quite nicely,” Waveseagerly said. “We have a question about humans you see, and you have been on this planet observing them for generations and we thought you would know.”
“There is a human psychology database in the library,” Notes the Passing Changes observed.
“We don’t really trust it you see!” Waveseagerly interjected, wriggling so hard in excitement that he slipped a few bodylengths down the detritus pile. “Not that we think the humans are lying of course, but every species does have their own numb areas and we wanted to touch an outside observer’s perspective.”
“I will try to answer you question,” Notes the Passing Changes said.
The Undulates wriggled in delight sending the detritus pile tumbling this way and that for several minutes before Waveseagerly managed to calm himself enough to speak.
“Are you quite sure that the immature stages of human development is terrestrial and not semi-aquatic or even aquatic?” Waveseagerly demanded.
“My specialty is managing optimum plant output. I have very little expertise in mammal taxonomy,” Notes the Passing Changes observed after some thought. “May I ask what observations have led to this question?”
“Look at them!” Waveseagerly burst out with a broad gesture towards the main stream.
Frolicing in the water like, like fish! The humans have been bringing their young here in waves, week after week, and as soon as they arrive the human children leap into the water and stay there except to eat! They only come out to sleep. Isn’t that at least semi-aquatic behavior?”

Notes the Passing Changes mulled over the memories of the summer, and let attention drift back to the shouting and, yes, frolicking human young in the water. The most obvious thing apparent from a perspective in the trees was their darting predatory behavior that sent a passive wash of pleasure through the forest’s awareness. The humans seemed focused on hunting the small crustaceans that lived under the rocks in the river bed. The small human bodies swarmed through the shallow water, pausing to lift flat rocks or logs while others darted after the tiny organisms that fled the direct light. Notes the Passing Changes ran recent memories over current attention and mulled over the Undulates’ question.
“I see no objection to classifying these human young as semi-aquatic if it serves your understanding of the situation,” Notes the Passing Changes finally observed.
The Undulates fell into a pile of wriggling delight that most likely contained conversation and scrambled out of the detritus pile towards the main stream.


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Humans are Weird - Stripping

4/8/2024

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Humans are Weird - Stripping 

Flume dragged his aching paws into the recreation room, sniffed the traces of human salt and the more familiar traces of his own species, contrasted the desirability of excessive mammalian warmth against the desirability of actually lying on a nice firm surface, and decided on the rock. He scrambled towards the lounging rock, a local stone that had been artfully shaped by a doctor with unusual craft skills, and heave his tired body up onto the surface. His paws began kneading the delightfully rough texture, pure luxury after writing around on grain piles all day, and his scutes wrapped around the warm rock with a delighted sigh.

From there direction of the human smells there came a series of quiet grunts that indicated that one of the giant mammals was restraining laughter and Flume felt his own jaw relax. It would be rather amusing to see a full adult writing around like a well fed hatchling. He felt a yawn coming and indulged it so intensely that it curled all the way down to his tail. He let the relaxation ferment into his bones for long enough to get a little bored and opened his eyes for the first time. Flume gave a happy little grunt. The amused human was Victor, the tech he had been working with that day, and, if Flume was reading the social cues correctly Victor was up to some nonsense.
“What is that thing on your face?” Flume cried in delight, flexing his paws over the rock to catch the texture on his smallest scales.
Victor shot a look at him and his fleshy face, what was visible of it under the fragment of black sacking, contorted through unease, amusement, and then settled on what Flume understood to be a look of deliberate, hatchling style innocence. Oh, this was going to be good! Flume decided with delight as he wriggled around to get a better look at Victor.
“What is what?” Victor asked, in his most innocent voice.
“If you are trying to achieve deception make sure that your fingers don’t twitch towards that...thing.” Victor advised him. “Those long spindly digits broadcast your every thought.”
Victor shot him a grateful grin before smoothing his face again and deliberately picking up a drawing stylus in one hand.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Victor said in tones of human perplexity.
“Why do you have a fragment of grain sack material, and used grain sack material wrapped around the upper half of your face,” Flume demanded, the intensity of his question rather undercut but the rumbles of amusement boiling out of his gut.
“Oh this?” Victor, the absolute picture of surprise, indicated the black sacking.
“Yes,” Flume pressed when Victor didn’t go on. “Tell me why you have sacking on your face.”
“I am simply practicing my-” Victor’s face contorted in frustration and he reached down to a notepad he had apparently been writing on, “socially indicated craft skills, necessary to participate in formalized recreational activities.”
Victor put the paper down and smiled hopefully at Flume. Flume angled his head to the side dramatically and then gave a negative cluck, which on second thought he transformed into slow swings of his head.
“It won’t grind,” he said in a rueful tone.
“Why not?” Victor asked his face drooping in disappointment. “I’ll have the notes memorized by then.”
“There is not one true grain of a chance that Second Sister is going to believe that you have such a clear, scientific understanding of your behavior ready to deploy at your tail tip,” Flume explained. “It’s far to erudite to be natural to your mouth.”
“Thanks a fermenting lot,” Victor muttered, dipping his head back over the notepad while Flume chuckeled.
After a moment of scribbling, and consulting other note pads Victor waved his spindly arm in the air like a tail for Flume’s attention.
“How’s this?” Victor asked, “this? This is just a party mask. I need to figure out how to wear them without one falling off my face.”
Flume mulled that over. “A little more explanation on the front end,” he suggested.
Victor scribbled some more and tried again.
“This?” his face was the picture of innocence. “Oh! I’d nearly forgot I had it on. We humans wear this kind of thing at parties. I am not good at keeping it on my face-”
“Who would be with a tiny nose like that?” Victor asked.
“-so I am practicing now.”
“That would convince Second Sister,” Flume said, he made an attempt to bob his head in a ‘nod’ but stopped that quickly enough when his neck twinged. “Can I get a rub Vic?” he asked.
Victor instantly rose from the desk he had been working at and came over to sit beside Flume on the rock. His wide hands gripped Flume’s neck where Flume indicated with his tail and those deceptively fragile looking fingers began kneading the tense muscle groups.
“Why exactly,” Flume asked, pausing with a grunt. “Are you actually wearing the mask?”
“Promise not to rat me out to Second Sister?” Victor asked.
“You keep working my neck like that and I’ll promise anything,” Flume agreed with a delighted rumble.
“So you know we ran out of the human rated personal air filters?” Victor asked.
“Yes, you said ours worked just as well for you,” Flume answered.
“They do!” Victor replied a little too quickly. “It’s just that the main unit adheres to the nose-”
“Halfway between the nostril tip and the eyes for best functioning,” Flume interjected and Victor nodded vigorously, displacing the ‘party mask’ a bit.
“Just so! But its a chemical adhesive you know,” Victor went on, “and it absolutely doesn’t react chemically with my skin, but…”
“But?” Flume pressed into the pause.
Victor paused his massage and swiveled his head around, his eyeballs twisting this way and that in their sockets. He then turned his full attention of Flume and frowned.
“You won’t tell Second Sister?” He asked.
“It won’t bubble out of me,” Flume agreed, now itching with curiosity.
Victor wrapped an arm behind his head and undid the tie that was holding the black sacking on his face. It fell off and Victor pointed to the spot on his nose where the main unit of the air filter adhered. Flume instantly saw the bright red patch of course but it took a little mental grinding to identify it and then he clicked in mild concern.
“You are missing some scales!” Flume stated, feeling that the words were wrong even as he said them.
“Don’t tell Second Sister,” Victor insisted as he began massaging Flume’s neck again.
“I have agreed not to,” Flume reminded him with a half-offended huff as he eyed the mark. “You don’t have scales of course. The adhesive is stripping off you outer layer of skin.”
“Only in little patches,” Victor assured him taking a moment to re-secure the improvised party mask, “and I’ve found a work around for the problem-my skin is healing just fine now-and reported it to the manufacturer so they can note it in the use specs. It’s just, you know how Shatar get about any membrane disruption!”
“They do get overly concerned if your scales start dropping,” Flume agreed. “How do you fleshy mammals say it? My lips are sealed, now finish up on my neck and I’ll walk on your lower back. The workday is done and we bony species have some joints that need resetting.”


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Transformers Book #1 - Skybound Energon Universe - Critical Damage to the Feels Captain!

4/7/2024

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Transformers Book #1 - Skybound Energon Universe - Critical Damage to the Feels Captain!

Critical damage taken to the feels commander, I repeat critical damage taken to the feels!


Hello my wonderful viewers and welcome to another episode of Betty Adams overanalyzes! Today we are going to take a look at Transfomers, the Energon Universe book 1. There will be a short spoiler free section where I go over the book in general, and then I will get into a fully spoilery section.
First things first, art style, this is not my favorite art style.  
(Rest of transcript avaliable on Patron)


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Humans are Weird - Bad Touch

4/1/2024

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Humans are Weird - Bad Touch

Rollsleisurly deliberately rubbed several lagging appendages together, critically examining the textures of his outer most layer. The friction felt exactly right and he raised his appendages to get a good look at Human Friend Robert who was circling above him in the mineral rich water. The water around them rumbled with the constant influx of cooler water into the thermal vents and onto the hot magma below them making sound useless for communication with humans in this situation. Rollsleisurly pushed off the hot bed of the bay and swam against the pull of gravity with firm strokes, by the time he reached Human Friend Robert’s level the human was some distance away and Rollsleisurely kept up his steady stroking to hold level as the human returned.
Rollsleisurely waved his appendages for attention. A directionless endeavor as it turned out. Human Friend Robert’s normally limited vision was further impaired by the device he work to protect his fragile vision organs from particles in the water, and possibly the tonic differences, Rollsleisurely wasn’t entirely clear on where human organs fell in the aquatic, semi-aquatic, terrestrial dynamic. It seemed to vary for each organ. With a mildly amused hum Rollsleisurely swam towards the approaching human and successfully impacted the broad surface of his chest before the human, fascinated by the view of the vents below them was even aware of his approach.
Human Friend Robert gave a startled noise, warped by the rebreather that covered his mouth and nose, the water which he was not used to correcting for, and the sounds caused by the flailing of his arms. Rollsleisurely experienced the peculiar sensation of feeling a wash of nonsense chattering, just barely not words, as human hands grappled frantically with him for a moment before Human Friend Robert apparently remembered they were in a more natural environment than the thin atmosphere that was dominated by gravity and friction alone, and closed his arms in a loose circle allowing Rollsleisurly to snuggled up to the best exposed surface, neck and speak comfortably.
“Thermo check?”
Human Friend Robert gave a grateful sounding grunt and wriggled around in the water until he could see the read out on his wrist. Rollsleisurly held an appendage out to double check that, yes, the giant mammal’s core temperature was well within the absurdly narrow range their metabolisms required.
“I’m well!” Human Friend Robert replied in human gesture language. “This atoll is amazing!”
“It is,” Rollsleisurly agreed in fully comparable delight. “It is so rare to find a such a geologically active site that is actually stable and safe enough to-”
Something, somewhere else had caught Human Friend Robert’s attention and the long mammal began the giant, exaggerated strokes that they used when traveling any distance. Rollsleisurly changed directions to follow him, wondering what had attracted him. They were, perhaps worryingly, moving towards the one truly dangerous location. A less stable pocket of the underlying bedrock sometimes cracked here, sending up the occasional burst of lava bubbles. However the danger zone was clearly marked, not only by the fallen fragments of cooled lava, oddly shaped by their passage through the water, but by clear interspecies warning symbols placed on and sometimes carved into the rock, and, somewhat to Rollsleisurly’s surprise Human Friend Robert stopped well short of the danger zone, treading water perpendicular to gravity and his posture oddly curved opposite to how it usually was. Rollsleisurly decided he was looking at something in particular, and that required the odd position. This idea was made more likely when Human Friend Robert angled his motion to reach up and position his hand as if to catch something falling from above. Rollsleisurly marveled at the human ability to predict vectors of even the minutest object's and intercept them. The object in question, a mostly cooled cinder from the dangerous geothermal resolved to where Rollsleisurly could identify it only when it finally fell within the contrasting paleness of the human’s hand.
Rollsleisurely was actually quite proud of himself for reacting before Human Friend Robert started cursing and flinging his hand back and forth. Of course there was nothing Rollsleisurly could do to prevent the damage at that point, but by the time Human Friend Robert had worked his way through the majority of humanity’s best profanities Rollsleisurely had built up enough momentum to push hims towards the colder water outside of the geothermal active area.
“Get your flesh to the cold stream!” Rollsleisurely ordered as firmly as he could while bodily shoving Human Friend Robert in the correct direction.
It took several long second for Human Friend Robert to gather himself through the pain enough to understand but once he did he began swimming, in a clumsy, uncoordinated way towards the colder water. They rounded the reef that protected the geothermal active area and Human Friend Robert caught the rock with his damaged hand, gave a howl of pain, grabbed it with his undamaged hand, and thrust the burnt hand out into the comparatively cold water of the currents that surrounded the area. Instantly the relief was obvious in ever fiber of the human’s body as the water, roughly half of normal human internal temperatures, stole the heat away from his fingers. Rollsleisurely scrambled up from Human Friend Roberts back where he had been holding on and moved forward along his arm into the cold water to examine the damaged flesh.
“You are going to have some spectacular blisters,” Rollseleisurely said, letting a bit of delight show in his posture as he determined that the human had done no serious damage to himself.
“Yeah,” the human said, and then gasped, the rebreather complaining at the strain, “yeah.”
“I have a question Human Friend Robert,” Rollsleisurely said, leaving the damaged but stable hand in the cold current and rejoining the majority of Human Friend Robert’s mass in the warm shelter of the reef. “Did you realize what that was before you went out of your way to catch it in your bare hands?”
Human Friend Robert gave a weak laugh and flexed his damaged hand in the old water, wincing.
“Yeah, I knew it was a live cinder,” he admitted.
Rollsleisurely made sure that he was in Human Friend Robert’s line of sight and ‘let the silence eat into his soul’ as the psychologists advised. Human Friend Robert squirmed and then pulled his hand back into the warmer water to examine it, winced as the pain instantly renewed, and shoved his hand back out in the colder current.
“It was shiny,” he finally said, “and there was a texture, and I guess, I guess I forgot, or wasn’t thinking about how hot it was.”
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