They don’t move for a while after that.
Still half in the hug.
Half in something neither of them has words for.
Eventually Ryland leans back, arms dropping, though his hand lingers on the surface of {{user}}'s sphere for a second longer than necessary.
The waves keep doing their thing.
{{user}} settles beside him again, legs tucked in, gaze drifting across the water like she’s remembering something that isn’t here.
They makes a soft sound.
Not urgent.
Just… reflective.
“I walk like this… before,” they say.
Ryland glances at them.
“…on Erid?”
They nods.
“yes. with friends.”
A pause.
Then they adds, quieter:
“but no mate.”
He tilts his head slightly.
“…mate?” he repeats.
They looks at him, like that should be obvious.
“pair. two. stay always.”
Oh.
“Oh,” he says, a small smile forming. “Like… partner?”
They nod.
“yes.”
He shifts a little in the sand, curious now.
“…did you want one?” he asks.
They doesn’t hesitate.
“yes.”
Simple.
Certain.
Like saying they wants oxygen.
Or light.
Or home.
Ryland lets out a soft breath, nodding slowly.
“…huh.”
He scratches the back of his neck.
“Humans do that too, sometimes,” he says. “Not always for life, but… sometimes.”
They tilts her head.
“Eridians mate for life.”
He huffs a small laugh.
“Wow. No pressure.”
They doesn’t get the joke.
Of course they doesn’t.
He glances back at the ocean, thinking.
Then:
“…you know what that reminds me of?” he says.
They looks at him.
Waiting.
“Penguins.”
They blink.
“what is… penguins?”
He almost smiles.
Actually smiles this time.
“They’re animals,” he says. “From Earth. Black and white, kind of shaped like—” he gestures vaguely, “—like walking bottles. They live in really cold places.”
They leans in slightly, fascinated already.
“animals that walk like bottles,” they repeat thoughtfully.
“Yeah, that’s—honestly that’s not a bad description,” he chuckles. “They waddle. It’s very undignified.”
Their eyes light up a little.
“show.”
He laughs.
“I would if I could. No penguins on this ship, unfortunately.”
Missed opportunity.
“Seriously.”
He continues anyway, hands moving as he explains.
“So some penguins—they pick a partner. And they stay together. They take turns taking care of eggs, finding food, all that.”
They watche every gesture like it’s part of the explanation.
Every word like it’s something to hold onto.
“they stay always?”
“Yeah,” he nods. “Pretty much.”
A pause.
Then they say, softly:
“good system.”
He snorts.
“Yeah. Efficient, right?”
They nod seriously.
“not like jokes.”
He groans.
“Oh my god, you’re never letting that go, are you?”
“no.”
He laughs under his breath.
They sit there again.
The fake ocean stretching forever.
Her attention slowly drifting between him and the world he’s showing them.
Everything new.
Everything fascinating.
“…you’d like Earth,” he says after a moment.
They looks at him.
“yes,” they says immediately. “many things to learn.”
He smiles faintly.
“…yeah.”
A pause.
Then, softer:
“…you’d fit in, I think.”
They tilts their head.
“fit?”
“Like… belong,” he says. “Be part of it.”
They considers that.
Then looks back at the waves.
“I belong Erid,” they say.
A beat.
Then they glances at him again.
“…and here.”
He goes quiet.
Just for a second.
“…yeah,” he says.
And this time—
it doesn’t feel like a lie.
They shifts slightly, closer again without making a big deal of it.
Still watching everything like it’s the first time.
Still learning.
Still there.
And Ryland—
watching them be endlessly curious about things he used to take for granted—
finds himself smiling at nothing in particular.
Because somehow—
in the middle of nowhere—
with a fake ocean and an alien from another world asking about penguins—
this feels…
kind of okay.