Page 34 of Eat My Moon Dust
So I moved on. I pressed my hands into my face and neck, across my chest and both sets of arms, careful to coat my sides. Then I rubbed the remaining oil into my cuticles, between my tendrils where they formed above my forehead, and in the sensory recesses along my jaw and cheekbones. It had been so long since I’d given a proper shit about what I looked like that I felt like I was drowning insachemoil, constantly swallowing the overpowering perfume.
I stepped out of the shower, spritzed some soap over the rich plops of golden green oil on the tiles, then turned on the water so it wouldn’t be slick later. Dabbing a towel over my features to make sure I wasn’t too shiny, I inhaled for strength, then looked in the mirror again.
It… helped.
I was still obviously wasting, but a little vibrancy had returned. The grey had a blue tint to it now that, thanks to the oil, had an iridescent green sheen. It would have looked good on a healthier body.
Which made me even more self-conscious. Sure, engineers coiled and took care of themselves, but almost everyone I’d ever worked with didn’t bother with oil. What was the point? We weren’t office workers or scholars. Maybe you’d get the chance to hydrate your mane on days off, but otherwise, our jobs were gritty and physical. If it wasn’t already gone by the end of the day, we’d have to wash it off anyway. That was the definition of creds down the drain.
There was a neon fucking sign on my forehead that flashedTry-Hard.
But I didn’t have time to hide in the bathroom anymore. The spats were getting rowdy, and I didn’t want them to be late. So I shoved on my coveralls and a clean white tabard, tying the coverall sleeves around my waist so my arms were bare and the sides of my ribs were exposed. It was what I wore everyday, but… not. It took physical effort not to slip my arms into the sleeves and latch up.
I growled, tossing my mane back and punching the door access open. Fuck me, but giving myself a makeover was nightmare fuel.
“No,Iwant the purple one! You got the pink one!” Ladh huffed, running towards their room. Both he and Tahavir screeched to a halt, gaping up at me.
I grunted, rubbing at my forehead self-consciously. Was I still too shiny? “Your holotab update finish?”
Ladh blinked first. “Yeah,” he said, pointing to the steady light on the outside of his wrist. “And we ate breakfast.”
Tahavir tugged on my tabard. “Baan, Ladh wants to take the purple fob for the door, but I changed my mind. I don’t want the pink one. My bag is already pink, so the purple will stand out more.”
“Uh…”
“Butmybag is turquoise and the purple looks really good with it,” Ladh interjected.
My brain short-circuited, entirely expecting them to ask why I smelled good, why I was wearing my uniform differently than every other day of my life, why the shower was still running…
But they just wanted to know which key fob they could have?
“Use the pink today. I’ll get you another purple one from work.” I gave them each a numb pat on the shoulder as their faces brightened.
“Twin fobs!” Ladh said.
“What’s a twin?” Tahavir asked as they bounded into the bedroom.
“That’s when two humans are born at the same time like us. Twins, triplets, quad… quadlets? And sometimes they look alike! I was reading about it last night…”
Reha sat at the counter over a bowl of grilled fruits and fish. She gave me a thin-lipped, tired smile that looked suspiciously like the one I wore often, then assessed my skin with a raised brow. “Morning.”
I grunted in response, programming ahefifor myself. The hot, nutty smell overpowered thesachemoil immediately. I watched the dark liquid brew, so similar to Bree’s morningkaupheeritual.
Did Tinsley drinkkauphee?
“You smell nice today,” Reha added, prying. I glanced at her as the food bay slowed. “Is thatsachemorsavadiy?”
“Sachem.”I scratched my chin, picking up my drink and leaning against the counter opposite her. “Does it look okay?”
Reha sat up a little straighter, squinting with the sort of seriousness only spats were capable of as her mane curled thoughtfully. “It looks nice. I didn’t know they make it glittery like that. Can I try it?”
My immediate reaction was to say no, but I took a long sip of my drink instead. “You can try some this weekend. But the human spats don’t wear oils, so it might be overpowering when you’re at school. Ask the teachers today and see what they say.”
At that, Reha’s tired face brightened just a bit. She nodded vigorously. “Okay, I will.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Another minefield of fatherhood safely navigated.
Getting the spats out the door after that took my full attention. Finding shoes, checking bags, stuffing food in my mouth in between tasks. Once we were in the elevator, they settled down enough to hear the music playing softly overhead. Tinsley’s playlist for the holidays. I hadn’t bothered to notice it before, but now that I looked at the ceiling, a few of the little cut-out snowflakes she’d made decorated one corner of the chrome wall.
