Page 60 of Citrine

"I don't know, not really."

"Do you only know useless things?"

That one hurts.

Mypadreused to praise me as smart, but maybe all those years of mediocrity have eroded it all. Here I am. Stranded on an alien planet, and I feel horny as hell. It's so ridiculous, I would laugh if I could get rid of the lump in my throat.

"I guess I don't know a lot, at least not much that helps when I'm here."

"I see. Do you keep speaking because you wish to know more?"

He surprises me, again. He is so alien, not understanding my culture at all, but somehow still insightful. I twirl around and stare at him. He stares back, unafraid, unabashed.

"Yes. My mind is always wanting to know more. I'm on a different planet! Right now, aside from wondering how tofreakingescape, my mind is burning to know just how this planet moves. Do the same laws of gravity apply? I mean, they must, I suppose. But what more about this planet do we need to know to survive? To thrive?"

"You know so many words and ask so many questions, yet you have no answers. Your curiosity is never sated. Why?"

I smile up at him and caress his face. His skin feels strange under my palm, but it doesn't irk me anymore. His eyes are clear, but if I look deeper, there's just a hint of curiosity. An octo-shark-dolphin-man with more power in one tentacle to crush me to mush is curious about… me.

"Wroahk, why don't we move beyond the lake? Explore?"

His clear eyes darken almost immediately.

"No."

Well, it was worth a shot. There's not that much curiosity in his eyes, it seems.

"That's fine."

I can always convince him later.

He slinks off my body and drags a trail back out to the lake, which he does frequently so he won't dry out. He seems amphibian, maybe, but the feel of his skin is closer to a marine animal. I wonder what else makes him different from me.

Now that I know I'm safe with him, I don't like when he leaves me alone.

I follow his trail and find him floating along the surface of the river. He is splashing around, like his tentacles were lubricating. I'm wondering if he stores water in his tentacles to stay longer on land. I'm also wondering why he's doing all this to stay by my side.

I sit by the shore and watch him. Not all the rocks are sharp, though it is hard finding a good spot at first, but I find it. He sees me as I sit and draws closer, staring at me from the edge of the water. I watch his tentacles move, entranced by their floatation. I'm tempted to ask, but I just watch.

A sight that speaks many words. I understand it now.

"Why are you watching me?"

He barely ever initiates conversation. Perhaps he's changing.

"I'm wondering how the water feels."

I'm not. I'm more curious about what he'll say.

"You can come in."

He's inviting me into the water. His voice is loud enough for me to hear over the waves and the crying giant birds, but not harsh on my ears. It sounds like he's projecting, like echolocation. What a splendid evolutionary trait. I don't quite sound like that when I speak.

I mean, he obviously understands me, but I'm missing something that gives my voice the same resonance. I want to be able to do that too, although everyone will tire of my yapping even faster if I did.

"I can't swim very well."

"You won't drown."

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