be panicking at the thought of facing an alien family who might not accept me, an ‘alien’ human, but I’m honestly too ecstatic to experience fear, let alone process such a negative-seeming emotion. Bash wants me to meet his family! Considering these are the people who raised my cheery ray of horned and snarling sunshine, I maybe should brace myself, but I don’t get the chance. Bash is still wrapped around me, but my eyes are suddenly all for the alien standing in the doorway, staring at us.
And I’m glad she’s staring. Because this way, it’s got to make it less rude that I’m staring too. Because it’s a female Rakhii greeting us. Until now, I've never seen one. And once you’ve met a Rakhii, you have to wonder where they spring from. What sort of woman it takes to create these monster-sized beasts, and the type of sisters it takes to help shape their brother’s psyches, because all the male Rakhii I know take honoring women to the next level; they cherish females and protect them with fire and killing blades.
I couldn’t decide in my imagination if they’d be Amazon warriors or Valkyries.
Turns out, they look a little like they’re both.
This one is turquoise-scaled, with silver rope-like spines that grow out of her head where I’ve only ever seen spiky quills on Rakhii guys. I wouldn't say her spines resemble hair, but maybe because of the placement, hair is what I label them in my mind. Six ropes fit between her horns on top of her head, and about five ropes gather behind and under her horn bases along the sides, her ‘hair’ falling heavy down her back, a few of the strands resting on her shoulders. Either artfully or because a few slid around as she moved about her day.
And she looks like she’s been moving a lot. An apron drapes her from her chest to the tops of her knees—and it bears black marks that make it look like it’s taken burns.
Being that she’s most definitely a Rakhii, burns aren’t so much a possibility as they are pretty much a dead certainty.
Under the apron is a dress or blouse and skirt; I can’t tell, and I don’t much care which. But I can tell she’s dressed nice, neatly, and from what I can see with her being half covered by an apron, her clothes flatter her full figure.
Tight to her throat is a necklace with the biggest emerald I’ve ever seen. If this planet has emeralds, that is. Maybe it’s whatever this planet’s precious rock happens to be. Shaped like a pear and nearly the same size, it can’t be worth what an Earth-gemstone is, or Bash’s hobbit-house-living family is so loaded I can’t fathom their wealth.
Surprise is clear to see in the alien’s large, lovely tourmaline-pink eyes. Not like albino pink, but ‘have a black pupil surrounded by a brilliant pink iris’ pink.
They’re like gemstones.
It’s… stunning.
And as it happens, we’ve also stunned her.
Or maybe it’s literally just me. She’s so, so staring at me. I peel my arm out from under Bash’s hug and wave my hand. “Hi. I’m Isla. I’m a human. It’s so nice to see a girl Rakhii, you're beautiful!”
The female’s gaze on me turns warm. I’d swear her eyes say, Oh, I like you.
The Rakhii’s pink eyes whip to Bash. “This once, I will forgive you for not sending me a Comm in so long that I thought you for dead.”
“If you had really worried that I’d died, you’d have sent my sire to find my body,” Bash points out reasonably, not dropping his arms from where he’s still holding me.
Now the Rakhii female’s expression turns deadly, her lids lowering in a challenge, her chin going up slightly, and her ears lying flat. “You don’t think I would hunt down answers myself? My son, you haven’t visited us in so long you no longer know me.”
“This is your mom?” I blurt.
Okay, now I feel a twinge of nerves. “I thought this might be your sister.” To the female, I explain, “You don’t have all the little age-wrinkles like Bash.”
Both aliens turn to me (which means Bash actually has to pull away from me in order to give me his typical have you lost your mind face). I ignore his silent question though, because the female Rakhii—Bash’s MOM—softens all over: her eyes go warm, her shoulders relax, and her dorsal spines fall to her back. But they do it gracefully, prettily. Her spines