Chapter Text
Feldspar sits beside their campfire, playing their harmonica like it’s the end of the world. May as well be, as far as they’re concerned. They’re tired of living on centipedes and a choking hope that has been deprived of oxygen for far too long. Their rations have been gone for a long time, and they’re so used to the hunger pains they don’t know what it felt like to live without them.
They play their harmonica, even though they know nobody’s coming. It’s the one thing that gives them hope, the one thing that reminds them of home. They can’t bring themself to leave their camp and visit that jellyfish carcass again, even though it’d give them a view of the stars. So close, yet so far, unreachable to them like they were back on Timber Hearth.
At least back on Timber Hearth they had their friends. They had their family. It’s hard to picture their faces now, and their voices are like a faint memory, like echoes across a cavern. Feldspar knows what the voices are saying, though. It’s been the exact same thing since they first crashed in Dark Bramble.
You should have been more careful. You should have told us where you were going. You could have prevented this.
Feldspar lets their harmonica fall from their helmet, though they can still hear the echo of it from the seed growing not far from their camp. It never falls silent, even when it’s been days since Feldspar last played. It’d be comforting if it weren’t for the way it warps the sound, making it uncanny. Familiar in the way a figure standing in shadow is familiar.
All of it is just a cycle. Play the harmonica to make yourself feel better, even if it doesn’t work. Try not to think about home. Think about home. Listen to the harmonica coming from the seed. Play your harmonica to drown the alien version of it out. How long has Feldspar been going in circles?
Feldspar lets their brain float away from their body, staring at the campfire as the constant pain of hanging on to life by a thread fades into a background hum. They don’t notice the sound of thrusters slowly growing louder, not until it comes to a stop with the sound of glass cracking.
The pilot jumps to their feet, looking up at the sound to see a ship with a damaged cockpit but otherwise whole. Feldspar would recognize Slate’s handiwork anywhere, and for the first time in who knows how long, a grin spreads across Feldspar’s face.
The hatch of the ship opens, and Feldspar sees an unfamiliar suit. They’re too tall to be Gossan, but at this point Feldspar is just about ready to grab whoever it is and kiss them anyways.
“Feldspar?” The astronaut shouts, and as they transition from zero-g to the radius of the gravity crystal, they stumble over their feet, barely catching themself. It’s been so long, but Feldspar recognizes that voice. “You’re alive!”
“You never were the brightest hatchling, were you?” Feldspar teases, and it’s so easy to fall back into that familiar banter. It’s like they never left, aside from the hunger pains and atrophied muscles. “Congratulations on being the second Hearthian to ever make it to Dark Bramble!”
Syenite responds by throwing themself into Feldspar’s arms, hugging them tight enough to hurt. They let out a very dignified squeak of pain, and only then did the hatchling’s hold loosen as they pulled back. “I- I heard your harmonica, but I didn’t think- it’s been so long-”
“Yeah, that’s right, I’m alive.” Feldspar says, folding their arms over their chest. Hopefully the suit hides how thin they’ve gotten. “Been camping out here since my ship crashed. Violently.”
“Wait, what?”
“Oh, this is a good story.” Feldspar rubs their hands together with excitement, gesturing wildly as they tell the story of their daring escape from the massive vines, then the furious Hearthian-eating anglerfish, and then their electrified ship. Syenite is silent almost the entire time, except for the occasional gasp of awe at Feldspar’s stunts. The helmet’s visor was opaque from this side, but Feldspar didn’t need to see the hatchling’s face to know they had the same stars in their eyes they had every time Feldspar would return to Timber Hearth with a new death-defying tale.
“I can’t believe you didn’t die.” Syenite says when Feldspar finishes, a smile in their voice.
“You know, in the old days, I used to think the same thing every time I came back from a flight in one piece. These days, I’m used to it.”
Syenite snorts, but then something in their posture falters. They look up at their ship, sparking slightly but mostly unharmed. “I may or may not have been looking where I was going when I was piloting. In my defense, I thought I was gonna find an anglerfish. Well, a living anglerfish.”
“Ah, I see you’ve gotten familiar with the little beasties.” Feldspar says. There’s something in the way Syenite says it that makes them hesitate, wondering if they weren’t exaggerating, but no pilot worth their salt would be willingly flying blind. Well, except for Feldspar. It’d be hypocritical to chastise them for it, anyways. “Good job avoiding fish food as a career choice so far.
Syenite hesitates, and Feldspar knows they might realize what comes next. They have to find a way out and that means either going through the anglerfish, or trying to squeeze their ship through the hollow vine. Considering the size of Syenite’s ship—significantly bigger than Feldspar’s, Slate did a good job constructing it—Feldspar is leaning towards the former.
“I’m gonna find a way to get you out of here.” Syenite says, voice determined in the same way it was when they said they were going to space after hearing one of Feldspar’s stories.
“Hey, hatchling, I’m doing alright for myself. No need to rush.” Feldspar says. “I know you probably don’t understand, but it’s nice out here, quiet and peaceful. It’s hard work, being the best there ever was.” It’s a lie, of course. Dark Bramble might be quiet, but it’s far from peaceful.
Syenite has changed since Feldspar disappeared, they know that, it’s just the way time works, but Feldspar still expects for Syenite to roll their eyes and remind them of the fact Feldspar broke their ship beyond repair and Syenite didn’t. They don’t expect to see Syenite’s body tense as they look around the campsite, no doubt taking note of the empty ration cans filled with centipedes.
“I’m gonna find a way to get you out of here.” Syenite repeats, and Feldspar knows there’s no changing their mind.
“How about we have a marshmallow before you go? I’m sure you’ve got dozens of them in your ship.” Feldspar suggests, setting a hand on their shoulder. “One last meal around the campfire before we go rushing back into danger.”
Syenite tenses up again, and Feldspar prepares for them to insist on leaving, but then they let their shoulders drop. “Yeah. That sounds nice.” They say, voice slightly weak. Feldspar doesn’t mention it. “I’ll go grab some.”
“Oh, and a marshmallow stick for me! And repair your ship while you’re at it, or Slate will have your head when we get back.” Feldspar teases.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” The eye roll is audible in Syenite’s voice, but so is the smile that’s returned to their face. Feldspar grins. Mission success.
When Syenite comes back out of their ship, sparking repaired and marshmallows in hand, Feldspar sits down beside the campfire, crossing their legs and gesturing for Syenite to join them. The hatchling takes their place beside them, handing them a marshmallow and a proper marshmallow stick. Feldspar could cry tears of joy at the reminders of home, but they don’t. Instead, they lean forward, giving Syenite their full attention.
“So, fellow astronaut. Tell me about your travels, because I know for a fact Dark Bramble wasn’t the first planet you hopped to. What have you found so far?”
Syenite giggles, and it’s like they’re back on Timber Hearth and Syenite is a hatchling all over again, telling embellished stories around the campfire. The nostalgia tastes sweeter than any marshmallow ever could.
“Ok, well, the first planet I went to was Giant’s Deep, because of this Nomai Statue that Hornfels set up in the museum...”