The book in front of him had cutesy flowers, just like the ones out in the front of the mansion. They were orange, small, and plastered all over the cover. There was some bubbly text, much different than any handwriting or engraving he's seen. The book was thick and heavy, but it didn't have pages; there were just two thick covers on either end. It was pale yellow in color, mimicking the sky outside. It looked...
Well, it looked pretty childish. Like any children's book in the kid's section at Walmart.
Vok'Rul was holding it up to his face, mere inches away from his nose, yellow eyes eager and excited. He smiled when he noticed Viktor looking up at him skeptically, teeth too sharp and grin stretched too wide. The alien was really excited about this, then.
"Vok'Rul," Viktor said slowly, pushing the book away from his face. The alien still had that eager, bright-eyed look about him. "Why do you have a kid's book in my face, right now?"
It had been a few days since they had returned from Pedro and the blacksmith's place. In that time, Vok'Rul had been pouring over his computer in the office, alien-Googling stuff right and left. The one time Viktor had gotten curious and looked at what he was doing had shown him electronics and technical plans so baffling that Viktor had had a hard time even comprehending that they were electronics and technical plans.
Needless to say, whatever plans that Blacksmith and Vok'Rul were cooking up had the alien really fired up for it. He had shifted his focus entirely from the papers that the alien had managed to take to this new project, something that Viktor suspected Rukka wasn't too happy about. Maybe it was a waste of time to her, but Viktor didn't see the harm in it. After seeing Vok'Rul comatose for five days, and nearly comatose for another five days after that, he relished in anything that brought back some life to the alien.
Though, he supposed, that Rukka might have just been annoyed with having to do his whole job for him. But what did he know?
Hardly anything. Vok'Rul has been teaching him some more words here and there, but the alien has been too preoccupied with whatever it was he and Blacksmith were building to really do anything more than point at something, say the word for it, and then promptly forget he was teaching Viktor something.
He couldn't hold it against the alien. Plus, it wasn't like he got annoyed with Viktor whenever he forgot the word; he just happily taught him it again.
During breakfast one day, Blacksmith had called on Vok'Rul's phone. Viktor, thankfully far away from the abomination that was Vok'Rul's ringtone, had thrown a piece of jerky at him. Surprisingly, it had hit its mark: right in the middle of the alien's forehead.
"Yeah! Nice shot!" he had heard Pedro call from the phone. From then on, it had been a struggle for Vok'Rul to even speak with Blacksmith on the phone. He and Pedro had chatted until Vok'Rul locked himself in the bathroom. The appeal of shouting through the door to Pedro had worn off rather quickly, but it had been nice to hear from the other man again.
"Keti," Vok'Rul said imploring, shaking the book in front of him and bringing Viktor's attention back to the matter at hand.
"I'm keti-ing, relax," Viktor rolled his eyes.
He watched as Vok'Rul sat beside him on the couch (heavily; Viktor was nearly launched off) and opened the book on his lap. Viktor leaned in close, despite his derision at being shown a children's book. He had not seen a book from this planet before, so it was all pretty new. Most of the stuff Vok'Rul looked at was on his computer.
He shouldn't have been surprised when a hazy, low-quality holographic image of a flower popped up when he opened it. But he was. It hovered over the book, occasionally fizzling out of focus before righting itself. Viktor reached out to touch it, wondering what it felt like, but Vok'Rul's claws intercepted him, gently pulling away his hand with a murmured "corfa, Kohgrash."
"Fine," he huffed, sitting back. "What is this?"
Apparently, Vok'Rul was deadset on teaching him how to read. It didn't matter how many times Viktor tried to explain that he didn't know this language's alphabet, nor what kind of written grammar rules they had, Vok'Rul wouldn't give up. He pointed at the words hovering in the image, slowly saying them out loud and pointing at the flower.
Viktor squinted at the words, then at the flower. "Yup, it's a flower. Vok'Rul, I'm not sure if I can learn your written language."
Vok'Rul wouldn't let him give up, though. The entire day was dedicated to going through that book. From the images, Vok'Rul's facial expressions, and what little words he did know, Viktor was able to surmise the premise of the book. Apparently, it was about a flower that needed a lot of space to grow. However, there were a lot of other flowers around. The flower ended up sabotaging the other flowers so it could grow in peace.
Basically, Viktor just managed to trudge through a book about a murdering flower. For kids. It explained a lot about how ruthless some of these aliens could be.
Viktor supposed it could be taken as a message to do your best regardless of the situation but... he was having a hard time convincing even himself of that.
He felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head with how long and hard he stared at the words. By the time Vok'Rul decided that they had both had enough, Viktor was able to pick out the words: flower, sky, and ground. Murder was probably on that list, too, if he were honest. It wasn't a lot. There were a few words that no matter how hard Vok'Rul explained to him what they meant, he just couldn't figure out.
Viktor could definitely say that he was more fluent in their spoken language than their written one, but he was learning, at least.
It hurt to hope that Vok'Rul possibly thought they were sentient creatures. At best, he likely thought they were simply more intelligent than the usual animal found on this planet. At worst, he was just teaching him more commands. He didn't quite know where the word flower would ever come up in command, but he was also on an alien planet. Anything could happen.
So.
Maybe the alien thought they could recognize patterns, which was well within a human's ability, and trying to teach one to read would just be a fun pastime. There had to be an alien's version of Guinness World Records, right? Vok'Rul was just trying to get his name in there.
And while Viktor had hope for a lot of things; seeing his dad again, seeing his friends again, going back to Earth... the hope that Vok'Rul thought they were sentient was almost too much to bear. He didn't want to get his hopes up so dangerously high that he'd be irreparably crushed when they ended up not coming true.
Still, a small part of his mind couldn't help it.
Vok'Rul, seeing that teaching him to read was going nowhere, had retreated back to the office. Viktor followed a bit sedately. His eyes hurt from staring at that holographic image for too long. Every time he had tried to give up, Vok'Rul would remain insistent that he stay. It had been maddening, just a little.
The alien sat in his chair with a muffled thump, placing the book reverently on his desk. Viktor went up to his side, placing his hands on the alien's leg and looking up at him shrewdly.
"Rohsh, Kogrash'mrr'k," Vok'Rul said to him with a smile. Viktor blinked. That was a new one.
"Hello," he returned.
"Ta mph mr khash," Vok'Rul told him, reaching out to cup Viktor's cheek in the palm of his hand. His thumb rubbed against his scar gently. His face was fond, affectionate.
Viktor leaned into the warm hand, despite his old wariness telling him to mind the claws. Months ago, Viktor would've died before letting an alien touch him willingly. With Lilac, her touches had been brief, full of pain, or just gentle enough that he could bear the queasiness that came along with it. Most of her touches had been for his own good, though, so that had helped with stomaching it.
"I've not a clue what that means, but you too, buddy," Viktor told him, his own voice fond. He cared for this stupid bastard, a lot.
In a few days, it will have been two months since Vok'Rul barged into the pet store and uprooted him from the only people he's ever known on this planet. Two months since his life had changed irreversibly. Viktor couldn't say that he fully regretted it.
The days started going by quicker after that. Their two-month anniversary came and went without a thought, breezing by in between stretches of learning more words and struggling to wrap his head around their written language. Viktor still wasn't an expert in both, but he could read the first few pages (well, it was more like swipes of the holographic image, really) of the book with little difficulty.
He started to pick out phrases and words that he recognized in conversations between Rukka, Vok'Rul, and Thruul. At one point, he was pretty sure they had been talking about taking a walk out in the garden. He had only recognized the words flower and outside, though. Later that same day, his suspicions had been proven correct, and they had taken a walk outside. It was twice as enjoyable, considering he had successfully retained some of the language and actually put it to use!
Plus, he got to go outside. Viktor privately thought that Vok'Rul was half-afraid of bringing him out here. He always got a constipated look on his face whenever Viktor attempted to climb the fruit trees. It wasn't his fault that the fruit was so high! He had full use of his limbs, and he was gonna use 'em in a meaningful way. And that was to get fruit.
Damn whatever Vok'Rul had to say!
Eventually, though, Rukka put her foot down. Whatever self-imposed mini-vacation Vok'Rul had been on with trying to teach Viktor more words and working with Blacksmith on that device came to an end. Two weeks after Viktor had met Pedro again, Vok'Rul had woken up with a groan as he stumbled out of bed. He nudged Viktor awake with a soft pat on his head (which still made him jerk violently awake. He wasn't sure if he would wake 'normally' ever again) and fed him his usual jerky and piece of fruit.
Thruul was nowhere to be found in the kitchen. Viktor tilted his head, asking, "Thruul?" but Vok'Rul shook his head with a "neyk Thruul." Oh, well. It wasn't surprising the alien couldn't be here every day. He had a kitchen to run, after all.
Besides, Viktor secretly thought, watching as Vok'Rul fished out one of those awful food bricks and took a hesitant, disgusted bite, it would be nice to not face a reminder of the ringmaster so early in the morning.
What was surprising, however, was the small army of aliens coming into the wing, complete with jewelry and clothing in hand. Viktor's stomach lurched as he realized that Vok'Rul was going to leave the mansion. There hadn't been many reasons for his anxiety to flare up at the thought of Vok'Rul being away from him since they had been in their wing for weeks.
It was definitely making itself known, now.
"Neyk, Vok'Rul, kor'kn Kohgrash!" he said, stumbling through the words in his haste to get them out. He leaped off the last few stairs, landing heavily on the ground. He ignored Vok'Rul's loud proclamations for him to be careful, grabbing onto the alien's hand tightly. His nails were digging into his thick skin. "Neyk, neyk, neyk," Viktor insisted, feeling like his chest was going to burst. "You- you kor'kn mr!"
Vok'Rul held up his other hand to the staff, stalling them in their process of preparing the jewelry for him to wear. Viktor's hands trembled with the urge to throw all the boxes of jewelry in their faces. His body was starting to see them as a threat.
The alien crouched in front of Viktor, bringing up his claw to trail it down his cheek. He murmured something to him, but all he could catch was the word for 'okay.' His expression was sullen for a moment before it looked like a lightbulb went off.
"No! It won't be okay!" Viktor yelled, voice wavering with uncertainty and fear. His heart was beating so loudly that he was sure Vok'Rul could hear it.
Vok'Rul shushed him, looking over to one of the aliens waiting uncertainly in the doorway. He said something sharply to it, jerking his head up to the stairwell. Viktor would've protested about someone unknown going into his living space, but he was much too occupied with the matter at hand. The alien wasn't listening to any of his protests, though, simply assuring him that it was alright.
The alien came back with Viktor's harness in hand, and the teenager's shoulder's slumped with relief. He was going with Vok'Rul.
He immediately quelled his protests and watched carefully as the aliens began lining Vok'Rul with jewelry. He twisted his own bracelet around his wrist anxiously, still somewhat worried that something might happen today. But when they got into the limo with little trouble, Viktor's back pressed against Vok'Rul's metallic tail, he started to relax.
The drive was long, but Vok'Rul passed the time by attempting to teach Viktor some new words. He didn't know exactly what the alien was trying to gesture to (was it car or seat?) but he thought he got the gist of it.
Viktor had tried, and failed, to get Vok'Rul to repeat some English, once. The alien hadn't seemed too interested.
The limo pulled to a stop, and Vok'rul got out swiftly, hoisting Viktor into his arms without preamble. What was odd, though, and started to set off muted alarm bells in his head, was that the driver kept the car stationary. Usually, they drove off after they had departed.
Maybe it was just a short visit, Viktor consoled himself.
It was easy to be distracted, though, when he realized they were at Pedro's. All thoughts of abnormalities fled his mind at the idea of seeing Pedro again.
"Hey, Pedro!" he hollered from Vok'Rul's arms, cupping his hands around his mouth. His voice bounced off the walls of the warehouse, and he didn't have to wait long before Blacksmith and Pedro came into view.
"Rohsh!" Vok'Rul greeted Blacksmith, voice a bit hurried. He dropped Viktor lightly on his feet and continued to speak with Blacksmith while Viktor rushed to hug Pedro.
"Hey, kid! What're you doing here?" Pedro grinned, squeezing him briefly before slinging his arms around Viktor's shoulders.
Viktor shrugged in response. "No idea! Glad to see you, though."
"Hey, you hungry?" Pedro asked, throwing his thumb over his shoulder to his and Blacksmith's living quarters. "Breakfast just got dished up."
Viktor grinned but shook his head, "No, thanks. I just ate. One of those purple starfruits today. I should start carrying them in my pockets. Who knows when I'll see you next? That way, you can try some, too."
"Thanks, kid. Your alien is leaving, by the way."
"What?" he shouted, whirling around to see Vok'Rul swiftly departing. "Vok'Rul!"
If anything, his footsteps quickened. The alien shouted something to Blacksmith, who responded in kind. Viktor immediately started running after Vok'Rul but was stopped when Blacksmith's claws hooked onto his harness. Viktor snarled at her, teeth bared threateningly.
"Let me go, you fucking bastard!" he yelled. She picked him up with ease, holding him as far away from her as possible. It didn't stop him from trying to kick her.
"Whoa, Viktor! Calm down! What's the matter?" he heard Pedro asking him.
"Let go!" he heard the front door slam shut, and his struggles only increased, pulse frantic in his throat. His whole body felt like it was on fire. He dug his nails, blunt and short, into her tough skin. It didn't faze her. His hands curled into fists.
"Viktor, Viktor! Stop hitting Blacksmith! She's just holding you!" Pedro shouted at him.
"No," he managed to get out between harsh breaths and wordless growls. "No!"
Blacksmith shook him, just a little, biting out "kora!"
"Oh, God," he heard Pedro moan in dismay as Viktor went rigid in her grasp. His windpipe felt like it was being squeezed by a claw of iron. Heavy and cold, like his collar.
Blacksmith repeated herself, tone pleased. Viktor made a keening sound in the back of his throat, guttural and low. Her hold loosened, fractionally, and Viktor twisted out of it with a sharp blow to her wrist. She made a small noise of pain, covered by his own as he dropped to the floor. Something zinged through his left arm, and he bit back another cry of pain, eyes unfocused.
Hands touched him, and he screamed, half of the sound dying in his throat as he choked it back. Don't let them know they scare you, his mind yelled. Get away if you can.
"It's okay, kid, it's okay," Pedro's voice came. The hands retreated a second later.
The floor was cold under him, slightly dusty. Everything here reminded him of the arena; Pedro's encouraging voice, the echo of kora in his ears, the sharp sting of hopelessness in his heart.
Maybe he was back in the arena, he thought deliriously. Maybe he made Vok'Rul up.
An alien stepped close to him, and he whimpered, flinching backward. He pushed himself up, doing his best to ignore the pain zipping up his arm. His hand clutched his throat, mercifully bare.
"Get away from him," Pedro said, though it lacked the anger it usually did when he spoke to the ringmaster.
No, Viktor's mind supplied, trying to get his surroundings in focus. Not the ringmaster.
He kneeled on the floor for a moment, nails digging into his throat as he struggled to get air back into his lungs. He flinched when Pedro's hand landed on his back softly, muscles tensing reflexively. Viktor forced himself to relax, which was easier said than done.
There was a long spell of silence before Viktor pried his hand away from his throat. There were no doubt red crescent moon marks littering it, glaringly obvious along the scar tissue. He sat back slowly, feeling exhausted.
"Jesus, Viktor," Pedro whispered to him, voice sympathetic and quiet.
"Yeah," he got out. "Yeah. I know."
Pedro helped him to his feet. Blacksmith moved forward suddenly, but Viktor's violent flinch and subsequent cowering made her stop in her tracks. Pedro led him somewhere, and it was only when he was pushed onto a soft surface that he realized he had been dragged into their haphazard living quarters. Viktor pulled his knees up to his chest, pressing his forehead against them, and didn't move for hours, despite Pedro's pleas.
***
Vocabulary:
corfa: careful
'k: little, usually added onto the end of a name or object
keti: look
kor'kn: stay with
kora: bad or naughty, a light scolding
mr: me
'mrr: my/mine, usually added onto the end of someone's name (Kohgrash'mrr)
neyk: stop, no
rohsh: a friendly greeting, such as hello or hey
Ta mph mr khash: you make me happy