Page 11 of Tattle Tail
As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to claw them back. Joseph Moonquest? That male?
Silence.
“Joseph? What kind of name is that? So odd.”
“It is a traditional human name. It means to increase.”
Her ears went flat against her head. She didn’t know why she said that or even why she knew that. She certainly hadn’t stayed up late one night with a glass of wine and too much time on her hands, researching human biology and culture. Especially human anatomy, including informative videos of mating. It was an interesting area worth studying. Repeatedly.
If anyone checked her network browsing history, she had scrubbed that incident clean like it never happened.
Because it didn’t happen, and she didn’t fantasize about a certain human pilot. That also did not happen.
Humility. Patience. Kindness. Justice. Fortitude. Prudence. Forgiveness.
She would need to recite more than the seven virtues to get out of this situation, considering her absolute lack of prudence.
“Mother, I must go,” she hurriedly said, then disconnected the call.
She stroked Nettle, letting the wuap’s purr quiet her mind.
What had she done?
Chapter 4
Joseph
“Mom, no.” Mari took the crystal-encrusted candlestick holders and put them back down on the table.
“Sunshower Marigold, yes.” Valerian grabbed the candlestick holders and handed them over to the vendor before any of her children or good taste could intervene. “Your house is so gloomy. You need something positive to align beneficial energy.”
Sweet black oblivion of space, help him.
Joseph flashed an apologetic smile to the vendor, who seemed to understand his plight. He had been conscripted into accompanying his mother and sister to the holiday night market to carry packages. He loved them, but they were exhausting.
“What about that?” Marigold pointed to a set of chimes with cut-glass pendants.
“Another wind chime? Please. You have enough chimes to furnish a symphony,” Valerian said, holding out her wrist to be scanned for payment.
“Oh, and we need more crystals? If you want to decorate, get your own house,” his sister retorted.
Exhausting. At least Valerian wasn’t trying to align energies in his apartment or ship.
“I’m going to get a drink,” Joseph announced, and took off before either his mother or sister could hand him another bag to carry.
Far enough away that he couldn’t hear Marigold and Valerian bicker, but close enough that they could fetch him, he found a stall selling hot drinks. Grabbing a nearby table, he dumped a vile amount of sugar into his coffee.
The first sweet and bitter sip was hot enough to scald his tongue.
Perfect.
A cold wind stirred, blowing away the empty packets.
Joseph shivered and adjusted the scarf around his neck.
He liked Corra but did not particularly like the cold. Having spent his life on space stations and deep spaceships, he was completely unprepared for the practicalities of living on a planet. Open skies, unfiltered air, and so much space it unnerved him were things he dealt with. But the cold? He couldn’t uncouple a lifetime’s instinct that the cold meant something catastrophic had failed, and he needed to race against the clock to fix it before turning into a human popsicle.
Otherwise, the weather fascinated him. He had teased Mari when she expressed the same sentiment after moving to Corra, but he got it now. Fundamentally uncontrollable and volatile, every day was different. Wild. Sometimes there was a pattern, and sometimes it changed so dramatically that forecasts might as well have been fortune-telling. Rain? Wonderful. Hot summer days? Fantastic? Crisp autumn air? Love it. Humidity? Not a huge fan, but whatever. Winter? That could fuck right off.
