Draft #67 - The Competition
Trembling claws, gnashing teeth, and steadfast glares fill the Pit. The first time I had witnessed a Competition had been long ago - centuries, now - and every time I must step claw into the sandy wastes, I still feel as small as I did back then. There is no describing the feeling of tremulous awe that fills your entire being as you realize that this is the cumulation of your entire life.
There are only two options in the Pit: life or death. It is a gamble that the Vokkrus play, vying for your life in your very own claws. You can be strong enough to win, or you can face death with the cold certainty that you have lost.
I do not ever intend to lose.
***
The sun had long since set, casting his office into shadow. The only light in the room originated from his computer, solemnly displaying all that he longed to avoid. His eyes burned as he stared at the screen, watching the holographic words shimmer and flicker in front of him. He felt an odd sense of displacement - as if he weren't meant to be there.
>> Rukka: Needs approval ASAP. Get it to me by the end of the week. File attached.
Or else, was left unsaid, but Rulshkka can read between the lines, contrary to popular belief.
A huff of breath escaped him, interrupting the sullen silence that blanketed the room. Rulshkka leaned back in his chair, hearing it groan in protest. He stretched, an involuntary growl escaping his throat at the movement.
He returned to his slouch - hunched over his desk in a position that had started to ache three hours ago. He stared balefully at the screen before he gathered enough energy to click the file attachment.
Hatchling Competition Details
His sigh filled the room, louder than before. He quickly glanced at his slumbering companion to ensure he hadn't woken before returning his attention to the unassuming file. He glanced over the details. It all seemed to be in order.
If he were honest with himself, which he was often not, Rulshkka could admit that he hated this part of it all. Hosting the Competition was a lot of work, but at least it all culminated in his victory. The hatchling Competition was nothing but bitter heartache for him. A reminder of what should have been his and what never will be.
The office door creaked open, and Kohgrash, slumbering on the seat with his work sprawled on his lap, quickly jerked awake.
"Whazzit?" he grumbled in his half-awake state, sitting up and spilling the contents of his lap onto the floor. The muffled thump pulled him further into consciousness, and he stared, uncomprehendingly, at the pile of papers and electronics.
"Rulshkka?" Thruul said, poking his head into the doorway. The light was soft behind him, lighting him in a soft halo of warmth. "Oh, little beast, did I wake you?"
Kohgrash smacked his lips, running his tongue over his teeth. "What-," he cracked a yawn, "what time's'it?"
"It's been seven hours since the star has set," Thruul said kindly, stepping into the room to pick up Kohgrash's belongings. The human stood still for a moment before he started helping. "You two were so quiet in here that I wanted to check on you."
"Mmmh," Kohgrash hummed, still groggy from his unexpected pull from sleep. "Vok'Rul?"
"Here," Rulshkka murmured from behind his desk. He pulled his eyes away from the multi-page document. "I'm sorry I did not keep track of time, my little Kohgrash. Your back must be sore."
"Well, now it is," Kohgrash grumbled, gathering his things in his arms. "I'm gonna go to bed. See you guys tomorrow."
"Goodnight," Thruul responded. Rulshkka grunted in response. Kohgrash grumbled back at him before he left the room, heavy-footed and slow.
Thruul turned to him, then, looking displeased. Rulshkka smiled sheepishly at him.
"I lost track of time," he tried to defend himself. "Rukka-"
"-would kill you herself if you run yourself ragged," Thruul huffed, walking around his desk and tugging him to his feet. Rulshkka protested feebly, gesturing vaguely to the computer. "It can wait until morning. You need sleep."
Rulshkka could admit that he'd likely get nothing done the more he worked into the night, but it didn't erase the curl of nervous anxiety that sat idly in his gut, begging him to do something. Still, he could not say no to his beloved, and so he relented with a sigh, "You are right. Of course, you're right."
Thruul smiled at him before pushing him out of the office. "Let's go to bed, then."
Rulshkka smiled back, offering his arm, "Shall we?" Thruul took it, and he was glad, not for the first time, that he was no longer alone.
***
"So what's got you off the deep end?" Kohgrash asked him over lunch the next day.
Rulshkka looked up from his computer. His plate of food lay untouched on his desk. Well, perhaps not untouched. Kohgrash had finished his own plate and had taken to stealing some scraps off his. "What deep end?"
Kohgrash waved his hand flippantly, "It just means you're irritated. Figure of speech. Why the grumpy expression?"
Rulshkka smoothed his expression out. He hadn't realized he held such a vexed countenance. "Ah. It's the hatchling Competition."
Kohgrash tilted his head in such a way that made Rulshkka smile slightly. "Well, what's wrong with it? It's coming up soon, isn't it? Always a few weeks before the Competition."
He heard some of the nervousness that lingered in Kohgrash's tone. He wondered if he should feel slighted by the fact that his friend did not believe that he would win his fifth Competition smoothly, but figured that if their roles were reversed, he'd be worried, too.
The hatchling Competition was something he had never enjoyed as a hatchling himself. Combined with the bitter feelings of resentment he had toward the event itself, the fact that his own niece was going to be competing in it for the first time made him all the more apprehensive to approve the details.
The hard work had been finished for him. It was one of several perks he got to enjoy with Rukka as his advisor. He knew that she would make sure - doubly so, since it was her hatchling particpating in the event - that nothing would be able to harm any of the hatchlings. All he needed to do was read over the documents, fix anything that needed to be fixed - dates, vendors, or age ranges, usually - and sign off with his seal of approval.
But the documents were difficult to read, plagued as he was by his own memories of the hatchling Competition. In previous years, he had barely looked at it. He supposed that with Nohkka's participation and possible injury, he was frightened.
He was a Vokkrus, he reminded himself firmly. A Vokkra, of all things. This was their culture. And while he knew that Nohkka would excel - perhaps not win, but certainly excel - he couldn't help but wonder if there really had to be a Competition for the young ones.
He may be Vokkra, but he knew that even hinting the abolishment of the Competition would not go over well. He'd likely lose any credibility he had left. It had taken a rather large blow when he had admitted that the mammals were not, in fact, mere animals. Still, their introduction to the Alliance had taken some of that bruised pride and soothed it when their trade had increased their profits.
As far as he knew, the Vokkrus were still the only species that had contact with the human's Earth, but the other ambassadors told him they were rather close to constructing a space vessel with the capability of handling the Drive. Which rather impressed him, considering it had taken their own species around seven hundred or so years to really nail that sort of technology down.
The humans would be branching off to their own space exploits, he knew. The Vokkrus would still sponsor them, of course, but no longer will they need their assistance. It'd be bittersweet as much as it will be exciting. Seeing humans come and go with ease will be wonderful.
"Vok'Rul? You're spacing out, buddy," Kohgrash called, tapping the part of the desk he could reach with his blunt claws.
"Oh, my apologies," Rulshkka murmured, trying to reign in his thoughts. "What were we talking about?"
Explaining his concerns about the Competition took little time at all - Kohgrash was a sympathetic ear to bend, after all - and Rulshkka did feel a bit better and light-hearted after he was finished.
"Well, you'll need to finish it up one way or another. Procrastination is no joke," Kohgrash said. He bared his teeth as his lips curled into a smile. "Kinda funny even aliens go through that, too."
"There's nothing funny about it," Rulshkka lamented, turning his attention back to his glaring screen. "I need to get it done by the end of the week or-"
"Yeah, Rukka'll kill you," Kohgrash snorted. "You know, she's never followed through on those threats. How d'you know she's not just bluffing?"
"Do you want to find out? Be my guest, oh esteemed Kohgrash."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm not chasing death right now. Here, let me look over the documents. It can't be that bad."
"I thought your grasp on my written language was something to be desired."
Kohgrash shrugged, getting up from his chair and walking around the desk. He scrambled up Rulshkka's chair to get a better look at his computer. His foot connected solidly with his abdomen. "Spirits, Kohgrash, you're going to kill me one day."
"Sorry," Kohgrash replied cheekily. "So what is it specifically that's bothering you?"
Rulshkka sighed, "Over the years, safeguards have been taken into consideration. The hatchling Competition is not as brutal or bloody as the real deal. Besides that, there are some hatchlings that sustain injury. I fear for Nohkka's safety, especially if there tends to be a larger number of older hatchlings in the Pit this year."
Kohgrash scrolled through the documents with a furrowed brow and a stern frown on his face. "So, all the hatchlings compete at once?"
"Correct."
"Then, why don't you split the Competition into age groups? I know there's an age range, but why not have one Competition with the younger kids at one time, and the older kids at another time?"
Rulshkka frowned. "Previous Vokkra have tried to enact that same thing with only mild support from the Council. I fear that trying may not prove successful."
"Well, when was the last time someone tried?"
Rulshkka hummed in thought, "Probably about... a thousand years ago."
Kohgrash turned to him slowly, looking incredulous. "A lot has changed since then. You told me yourself: Vokkrus like to spend time with their family more than they did in the past. People probably care more about their hatchlings now, right? I mean, Nohkka isn't even your own hatchling, but you're worried about her getting hurt. I'm sure a lot of parents think the same. You should try again."
"You think so?" Kohgrash nodded, eyes full of steely determination, and Rulshkka figured that the least the Council could do was say no.
***
"Denied."
"What?" Rulshkka nearly shouted.
"Denied, Vokkra. We cannot break thousands of lifetimes of tradition," the eldest Council member, Shirkon, said. His fingers were steepled in front of him. He clicked his claws together rhythmically.
It made Rulshkka beyond irritated. He wished he had gotten the chance to challenge him that time he had insulted Kohgrash.
"Tradition is having our children cast into the Pit and injured because you won't consider the possibility of having a safer, more enjoyable Competition?" Rulshkka seethed, trying to reign in his anger. It would not help his case if he lost his temper.
"As you said," Shirkon said dismissively. "But the Council has decided. The hatchling Competition shall remain as it is, as it always has been."
He looked around. Were they really going to allow this? The subdued faces of the Council, both young and old, were answer enough to his silent question.
Fuming, Rulshkka left the Council room in a huff, trusting that Rukka would gather his things. He needed to get out of there.
He found Kohgrash, predictably, outside with a view of their capitol's sculptures. Peace and Calm were made thousands of years ago, the first thing to be made with the technology that granted them hovering flight. They had improved since then, replaced over time, but they ultimately remained the same. Just like that blasted Council.
The sculptures did not bring any peace or calm to his angry, writhing heart.
what has angered you, the Spirits flooded his already overwhelmed senses, and the little control he had over his emotions snapped.
"Get out!" he yelled, startling a few nearby Vokkrus. Hastily, they bowed and left the area, and Rulshkka didn't have the patience or remorse to explain that he wasn't speaking to them.
snappy, the Spirits commented, and Rulshkka felt his lips curling into a snarl. He felt a pulse of calmness that did not belong to him settle over his shoulders, but he shoved it away. He was too angry, too furious, to even think of being calm.
"Hey," Kohgrash called, likely having heard his yell. His eyes were wide and concerned. He felt the Spirits' attention shift from him to his human companion almost immediately. Kohgrash stumbled under the weight. "God, that'll never not be weird."
Kohgrash looked up at him, noticing his irate expression right away. His stance did not grow fearful, but Rulshkka tried to take a few breaths to minimize his fury, anyway. "What happened?" he asked in a whisper, stepping close to him and patting his claws. The rings on his fingers clinked together with a jarring tune.
"They said no," he said dully.
Kohgrash harbored no scruples regarding his display of anger. "That's ridiculous! Did they say why?"
Some of his anger flared back. "Apparently, it's a disgrace of tradition," he sneered, spitting their words out in mockery. "To change what has always been will never happen."
"That's quitter talk," Kohgrash said furiously, some of the anger in his eyes being replaced with a look of determined mischief. "I have an idea."
***
The hatchling looked at him curiously. Rulshkka worried for a moment that Kohgrash might be kidnapped once more, only this time by innocently curious hands instead.
"So you killed a Ghhorrah?" the hatchling asked, eyes wide.
Kohgrash nodded, "I've killed a few."
"How?!"
"Well, I bit it in the neck-"
"Wow! My dad says that they have poison. That it kills you. You didn't get poison on you?"
"I did, but it didn't-"
"Wow!! And you're alive?! That's so cool- hey, do you know you're on the TV?"
"Ye-es, I know. What-"
"I always wanted a mammal, but my mom said that they were too much work, so we didn't get one-"
"Fhonash, that's enough. The Vokkra and Lord Kohgrash are here on business, so we must allow them to speak, shouldn't we?" the hatchling's father spoke as he entered the living room where Rulshkka and Kohgrash sat. The blue-tinged Vokkrus set the tray of refreshments on the small table and took his seat on the couch. He looked nervous.
"That's alright, sir..." Kohgrash trailed off.
"Please, call me Kyronash, Lord Kohgrash," Kyronash said, respectfully dipping his head.
"Kyronash," Kohgrash smiled, which likely unnerved the Vokkrus even more. His eyes kept flitting between the pair, as if he couldn't believe they were in his house. "Little Fhonash kept us entertained, didn't you?" he asked the hatchling.
The hatchling puffed his chest, a bit indignant. "I'm not little, Lord! I'm almost as tall as you, and you're super small!"
"Fhonash!" Kyronash spluttered, alarmed. "Lord, forgive him - he meant nothing of it!"
But Kohgrash simply laughed. "Do not worry, Kyronash. Hatchlings are spirited, aren't they?"
Rulshkka took over, then. He wasn't quite sure how well this would work. Grief was something he rarely dealt with - and losing a hatchling was something he had never experienced. But Kohgrash was certain that collecting these ... memorials of these hatchlings would help their case. "Speaking of spirited hatchlings," he began smoothly, catching the other's attention.
"I understand that your late daughter... Phlornash... was injured and succumbed to her injuries in the hatchling's Competition?" he asked, voice low.
Kyronash's nod was stiff. His eyes traveled to his son, who was watching the interaction with wide, unknowing eyes. He was young - young enough to be disqualified from the Competition.
"Yes..." he started before straightening. His claws dug into his skin as he tightened his grip. "I- I mean no disrespect, O Vokkra, but I fail to understand why you needed to speak with me and my mate about her... It- It brings up memories we would rather not think of."
Fhonash finally picked up on the tension. "Dad?" he asked tentatively.
Kyronash gestured with his head to the open door behind him, "Why don't you find your mother?" Fhonash nodded and darted off, only glancing backward at the trio once.
Kohgrash leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "Kyronash, what happened to your daughter was inexcusable-"
"She died as every young hatchling should dream of-" Kyronash's voice was stilted as if he were reciting what had been told to him. Rulshkka suspected that it had. Death in battle was something that every Vokkrus dreamed of. It was the most valiant act that could happen at the end of someone's life. "-and that is that!"
"It does not have to be that way," Rulshkka said lightly, reclining in his seat. "I look for change."
"You cannot possibly be thinking of- of abolishing the Competition?" Kyronash asked, appalled.
"No," Rulshkka assured. "No, tradition dictates that it remains. For hatchlings to sharpen their natural skills. But I do not think it needs to be so dangerous."
Kyronash was silent. Rulshkka could hear the soft, dulcet tones of his mate speaking with the louder, more boisterous voice of Fhonash.
"Your son," Rulshkka prompted. "He is your second?"
It was rare for Vokkrus to have more than one brood of hatchlings in their lifetime. Even rarer to have more than one hatchling, really ever. To have two hatchlings who were not hatchmates is not something often heard of. But when one hatchling dies early on in its childhood... mates tend to desire another.
The father nodded stiffly. He looked like he was barely breathing.
"I would not have what happened to Phlornash happen to your son," Rulshkka whispered quietly, gaze intent.
"Dying... Dying in the Competition... " Kyronash whispered back, words trailing off as if he didn't know what to do with them.
Kohgrash splayed his fingers, leaning forward, "I understand. Dying in the Competition is grand, all-encompassing, and valiant. To have the blood thrumming under your skin, energy flooding your veins... that is a feeling you will never forget."
Kyronash's eyes were wide. Kohgrash continued.
"But with that... with those noble feelings... Fear is something that bites at the back of your legs, keeping you in motion. It does not disappear in the heat of battle. The mightiest of soldiers can have difficulty pushing that fear aside. Do you think your Phlornash felt grandeur? Or fear?"
They explained their plan - to have the Competition separated by age group, skill, or size. Hatchlings could participate without fear of substantial injury, without chance of death. There would be no more accidents - no more parents living with the reality that their hatchling had died in the Competition.
Vehement in his denial that there was nothing wrong with the Competition, Kyronash barely wavered in his stance. He was stiff against the couch, eyes flickering between Rulshkka and Kohgrash. Rulshkka felt his frustration mount - if they could not get parents' approval for this plan, then Kohgrash's idea would fail, and they'd be right back where they started. With nothing.
A yellow-orange Vokkrus stepped in, eyes flinty and stance stiff. Her son was behind her, clinging to her leg. "Phlornash did not deserve what she suffered. Those hatchlings murdered her. The Competition rules everything in the Pit is dismissible. There was nothing we could do. We were shamed, Vokkra, for having such a weak hatchling. To die in the Pit is honorable for grown Vokkrus, and apparently, it is not the same for young ones. What is honorable about dying young, Vokkra? Is there honor in having your life cut short?"
Rulshkka straightened, opening his mouth to assure her - of what, he was not sure, but assure her nonetheless. But Kryonash's mate continued.
"We will support you in your endeavor, Vokkra. If what you say is true - that you aim to limit the Competition to something safe and more enjoyable, we will support you," she said firmly. Kyronash nodded along, dazed, as if he weren't exactly sure what he was agreeing to.
"Thank you," Rulshkka said solemnly. She nodded, once, stiffly, and after a brief trading of contact information, he and Kohgrash took their leave.
"That was easier than I thought it'd be," Kohgrash muttered, scribbling on his paper book about the whole encounter. He flipped to a new page, complete with the names and addresses of the next set of parents they were visiting. "Your people are proud, and changing how things work isn't going to be easy. No doubt we'll find plenty of Vokkrus who won't even wanna talk to us."
That certainly was the case. For the rest of the day, they visited multiple parents who have lost their hatchlings in the Competition. It wasn't very common, but it was common enough. Upon Kohgrash's request, they visited those who had been injured beyond repair in the Pit as a hatchling and got their statements, too. It took them two days to gather the evidence - two days of nonstop driving and interrogating people. The pair of them barely got any sleep in their endeavor, and they had to switch vehicles three times, as their drivers were just as likely to fall asleep as they were.
Sometimes, they were not successful. Tradition and deep-rooted shame ran deep, and to speak of the dead in such a way brought less-than-happy memories to these parents did not always yield the results they wanted. They were always invited in, cordially and respectfully, but sometimes, they were ushered out in a flurry of barely-there bows and cool goodbyes.
Often, though, they were given the time of day. They were told stories of hatchlings that were taken too soon by those several decades older than them. They were told stories of hatchlings who were irreversibly injured and unable to cope with their lives. It was depressing and fortifying, all at once.
He would do right by these hatchlings. For their memory and for all who came after them. He would not fail. Not this time.
When he finally presented his findings to the Council, merely a day before he needed to approve the details of the Competition, he was steadfast. He would not take no for an answer. This was their future he was shaping - and a future needed hatchlings to survive. To thrive.
When he finished his speech, voice raw with emotion and the strain of speaking for so long, the Council was silent. They glanced at one another - some obviously more moved than others. Rulshkka tried not to hold his breath, but he couldn't help it.
There were other methods of getting his way, of course. He could overturn the Council himself - fight them all in the Pit under the challenge of incompetency. He'd win, but then he'd have to elect new officers for the Council that held his views, and frankly, overturning a branch of his government was not always the best for public image. It would be his last option.
He was running through several scenarios detailing how he would take every single one of them out when Shirkon spoke.
"O Respected and Honorable Vokkra," he began. Uh oh, Rulshkka thought dismally. It was never a good sign when they brought out his full title. Shirkon shifted in his seat across the table, linking his claws together.
"We accept your proposal of the reappraisal of the hatchling Competition's requirements. We will reconvene to discuss the details of these requirements at a later time today."
***
Rulshkka entered the courtyard in better spirits than he had a few days ago. Kohgrash was in the same spot, looking much more tired than he had days ago and much more nervous than he's ever seen him.
Upon seeing him, the human quickly got to his feet, eyes wide and hopeful. Rulshkka couldn't help the toothy grin that stretched across his face, and Kohgrash returned it, launching at him with a gleeful cry.
"You did it!" Kohgrash crowed, water springing to his eyes. It was the salty kind, like Earth's oceans.
"We did it," he corrected him. "I could not have done it without you, my friend. I would have never thought to collect accounts from all of the victims' families."
Kohgrash waved him away, but Rulshkka knew he'd have to repay him somehow. This sort of thing - revolutionizing the entire way the hatchling's Competition occurred - was no easily dismissible feat. It was something to be applauded, something to celebrate.
"Come," Rulshkka said, bolstered by his success. "After we discuss the parameters of these limitations, we will celebrate. We have done right by my people today."
yes, he faintly heard the Spirits call. He felt warm by their approval. yes, you have.
***
The feast he hosted in his mansion was grand - nothing short of excessive, but grand nonetheless - and although Rulshkka would normally balk at such parties, he felt as though he were at the top of the world tonight.
He ate until he was full. Wine had been imported from Earth several trading vessels ago, and while a sip of it had been reasonable, he had concluded that it was nothing but poison for him and had decided against drinking it. There were other similar drinks from different planets that had the same effect, and he had sampled those, too. Still, he wanted to be in control of himself. No matter the occasion, he was still Vokkra.
The ballroom was loud with party-goers. He had invited several of the Vokkrus he had spoken to, and while not everyone had accepted his invite, the promise of better beginnings had brought a few out of their shells. Healing would come later, but he hoped that this proposal, that this Competition, would start it.
Several humans had shown up on request of Kohgrash, even Earth's ambassadors. Almost all of them had little idea what this feast truly represented, but they celebrated nonetheless. They were party animals, that was certain.
"Drink!" Shrrsk chanted, egging Kohgrash on. The human's head was thrown back, drinking from a cup that was nearly as large as his skull. The liquid inside it disappeared at an alarming rate. When he finished, Kohgrash jerked forward, expelling air with a satisfied 'ahh!' The humans surrounding him cheered, causing several Vokkrus nearby to cheer as well.
Rulshkka was certain they had little idea what they were cheering for. His smile only grew.
Arms encircled his shoulders as someone pressed against him. He turned, startled, to find Kac hugging him tightly. His own arms came up to hold her steady, but she was not as inebriated as the pack of humans a few steps away.
"Kac?" he questioned. Kac's arms tightened around him.
"Thank you, Rulshkka," she whispered. "My Nohkka... I feared... Well, it is no longer a fear, now. I do not have to worry for her safety in the Competition."
Rulshkka's claws squeezed her arms reassuringly, "I did it for her."
The confession was on his tongue, and he found that he could not hold it back when he realized it was there. "Nohkka is strong in her own right, but to be pitted against those much stronger than her, several decades older than her, it was not right. I did not want to bury a niece just as much as you did not want to bury a hatchling."
Family was growing more and more important in their society as time passed. When Rulshkka had been young, hatchlings were not something to be treasured. It was why his mother had favored one over the other. Focusing her energy on one ensured Rukka's chances of survival in the Pit, and Rulshkka was simply lucky that she had hated him so much to deny him any shred of happiness. Denying him entry to the Pit had certainly confirmed that.
But now, now, people were starting to realize that hatchlings were more than what they grew up to be, more than what they could earn as profit. They were treasured, exalted, adored for simply being themselves, and Rulshkka was glad to see it. He wanted no one to suffer the same childhood he had.
Kac nodded against his chest, and he pushed her away gently, holding her up. On second glance, she seemed to be a little... intoxicated. She smelled of Montet's ximo berries - the ingredient that made up their most popular beverage. Just as he was about to interrogate her of Rukka's whereabouts - he had little idea as to where his sister had gone off to and figured that she would know what to do with her intoxicated mate - she appeared behind him.
"Kac, there you are," she said, relief evident in her voice. She must have been drinking, too. "It is getting late, would you like to return home?"
Kac hummed, delighted upon seeing Rukka. She pulled away from Rulshkka completely, wrapping her arms around her mate instead. "Oh, my love. Our Nohkka will not suffer the same fate as many other hatchlings. Isn't that something to celebrate for, at least a while longer?"
Rukka started to pull her toward the door, casting a glance back at Rulshkka. It was heavy - gratitude, exasperation, fondness, love - but kind. "Our Nohkka is with the neighbor, now, and you know how much she detests the Flyhk there..." her words were lost in the crowd's clamor as they walked further and further from Rulshkka.
"Heyyy, Vok'Rul," someone said, colliding into his legs forcefully. Rulshkka looked down, exasperated.
"Hello, Kohgrash," he said, amused. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," Kohgrash slurred. "D'you know where Thruul is? I want some food."
"There's tables of food," Rulshkka pointed out, slightly pushing Kohgrash in the direction of them. He wobbled violently as if he had shoved the human with all the strength in his limbs instead.
"But I want Thruul's food," Kohgrash complained.
"Technically, it is all Thruul's food. He's the cook, remember?"
"Oh, yeah," Kohgrash muttered before unsteadily making his way back to the pack of humans. They grew noisy upon seeing him, and he pulled them all to the refreshment table.
Kohgrash got more and more drunk as the evening stretched on, and when the other humans called it a night, heading home with their Vokkrus - or hailing a vehicle to return to their hotels - the human lingered by his side instead. He wasn't much for conversation, though, and the translators were having a hard time deciphering his drunken speech. Drunken Vokkran didn't sound much better.
Soon enough, though, the celebration died down after several hours. The food on the tables had diminished to near crumbs (and Rulshkka suspected that Kohgrash had a hand in that) and the drinks had run dry. The only Vokkrus in the ballroom were the staff, cleaning up the mess of the evening. Rulshkka, carrying a sleepy, drunk Kohgrash in his arms, exited the room and headed to his own wing.
He met Thruul on the way in. He smiled at his beloved, the happiness in his chest still present despite the time elapsed from the proposal's acceptance. He suspected that he'd never be able to think of it without grinning like a fool.
"I missed you at the party," Rulshkka told him, voice hushed in the quiet of their dining room. Kohgrash blearily opened his eyes, smiled at Thruul, and fell asleep again.
Thruul rumbled in return. "I was present in the beginning. The kitchens needed my assistance as more Vokkrus came by, though. I apologize-"
"No need, my dear," Rulshkka interrupted, gently dropping Kohgrash onto his bed. The human scurried under the blankets as best he could in his half-awake state, muttering what he could only guess as a 'goodnight.'
He took Thruul by the arm and pulled him upstairs, shedding himself of his jewelry as they walked. "I am glad that it is all over," he gave a relieved sigh, lowering his head as Thruul's skillful fingers reached up to disentangle the chains from his horns. "And that I got my way."
"I know you would," Thruul said. Even though he had heard the phrase multiple times in the night, the surety of the words coming from his beloved's mouth made him happier than all of the well-wishers he had spoken with tonight. "You are Vokkra for a reason - change would always happen under your rule. And here's the proof."
Rulshkka pressed his face into Thruul's neck, and the other pulled him onto their bed in a huff and tangle of limbs. "Thank you," he whispered.
"No," Thruul said, firmly, "Thank you. I believe that you have saved countless hatchlings tonight. You should be proud. I'm proud."
Rulshkka went to sleep that night, warm and pleased. Sometimes, it was difficult to get things started, but completing them made it all worth the struggle. He would change the world, he swore to himself, simply one day at a time.