Little Fish Baby

azlariel:

syx-blue:

Letting the brain bot go, Syx sat down on the concrete edge on the break water near what he was now duding Evil Lair. It had a nice ring to it. Flopping back to look up at the stars, movement caught his eye. Blinking, the blue teen rolled over to peer at it more closely. It was a… a… baby? It wasn’t human… it wasn’t blue either. If anything it was more… fish like. Finned fingers and gills? But it had a decidedly baby look to it.

Syx’s throat closed up. Baby. He might of… he should have… visions of a smashed egg danced through his mind with a horrible regret and pain that throbbed in time with the scars on his wrists. Swallowing hard, he scrambled up to his hands and knees. Kneeling before the small child he whispered, “Hello?”

Syx appearing and coming closer that quickly prompts a hiss of warning, bared teeth along with out of surprise and fear. It’s the older being’s blue skin that catches the child’s attention next, trilling softly and in his own language giving a similar greeting. Though he didn’t understand Syx’s own, the words so far beyond his comprehension.

Watching Syx out of the corner of his eye, his focus is flickering between Syx and the water, debating on if it would be wise to try and run for that promised safety.

The kiss had Syx pausing, just kneeling where he was with his hands open, “It’s okay… no one will hurt you…”

The little one looked so scared and he couldn’t help but recall his first days on this planet. The being had to be alien, right? Did it have a parent it needed to get back to? Or was it alone?

“It’s okay,” he murmured again, unsure what else to do.

Little Fish Baby

azlariel:

syx-blue:

|| @azlariel || adoption meme || cont. ||

Fear, that was the first thing the little alien remembered feeling on his arrival – fear and being overwhelmed. Too many new sounds and smells, his surroundings equally unfamiliar. The time since, he’d kept himself as safe as possible, hiding during the day and only emerging at night. Even that, however, wasn’t always safe.

That night, for instance, he’d caught bits and pieces of the same harsh sounding language common here close by and heading closer, the sound of which had set him scrambling away from the scavenged source of food he’d found. Deeper into the warehouse district he went, though that name for the area wasn’t one he would have known.

The scent of something different, unfamiliar, near one of the buildings with chemical-smelling patterns on the side, overrides his usual caution when accompanied with the need to get away, darting toward the strongest source and through a wall that to him glowed bright enough to see even with the electric light surrounding it.

Syx and Minion had made a home for themselves. It wasn’t much, but at 16 the blue teen was proud of himself. They’d transformed the old dock warehouse into a rainproof shelter. It would be too cold once winter set in, but for now, it was enough. He’d siphoned electricity off the nearby grid and resurrected old machines from the scrap yard. He had a fabrication shop and small robots. Three of them now that were fully functional and learning. They were floating piles of junk with big teeth and the heart of puppies. Or more accurately, the brains of puppies. And Syx loved them.

Petting the glowing dome of number two, he walked out by the water to look out over the lake. His clothes were finally starting to fit him better, Minion had been learning to tailor from one of his Uncle’s wives. His boots were large and steel toed, jeans snug but ripped, and his shirt still large and baggy and layered. But he no longer looked homeless and in his mind… he wasn’t anymore.

Now inside, that unfamiliar scent is stronger. The little alien freezes just long enough to figure out where it was freshest, tracking Syx through the Lair that way. Dodging the strange floating machines as best as he could, or at least trying to. Like everything else, with them being new and an unknown, he was understandably wary.

When the trail leads outside again he hesitates a second time before the much more familiar scent of water drifts in along with it. That marker, the safety it promised, partially overrides his fear and he finally darts into sight.

Letting the brain bot go, Syx sat down on the concrete edge on the break water near what he was now duding Evil Lair. It had a nice ring to it. Flopping back to look up at the stars, movement caught his eye. Blinking, the blue teen rolled over to peer at it more closely. It was a… a… baby? It wasn’t human… it wasn’t blue either. If anything it was more… fish like. Finned fingers and gills? But it had a decidedly baby look to it.

Syx’s throat closed up. Baby. He might of… he should have… visions of a smashed egg danced through his mind with a horrible regret and pain that throbbed in time with the scars on his wrists. Swallowing hard, he scrambled up to his hands and knees. Kneeling before the small child he whispered, “Hello?”

Little Fish Baby

|| @azlariel || adoption meme || cont. ||

Fear, that was the first thing the little alien remembered feeling on his arrival – fear and being overwhelmed. Too many new sounds and smells, his surroundings equally unfamiliar. The time since, he’d kept himself as safe as possible, hiding during the day and only emerging at night. Even that, however, wasn’t always safe.

That night, for instance, he’d caught bits and pieces of the same harsh sounding language common here close by and heading closer, the sound of which had set him scrambling away from the scavenged source of food he’d found. Deeper into the warehouse district he went, though that name for the area wasn’t one he would have known.

The scent of something different, unfamiliar, near one of the buildings with chemical-smelling patterns on the side, overrides his usual caution when accompanied with the need to get away, darting toward the strongest source and through a wall that to him glowed bright enough to see even with the electric light surrounding it.

Syx and Minion had made a home for themselves. It wasn’t much, but at 16 the blue teen was proud of himself. They’d transformed the old dock warehouse into a rainproof shelter. It would be too cold once winter set in, but for now, it was enough. He’d siphoned electricity off the nearby grid and resurrected old machines from the scrap yard. He had a fabrication shop and small robots. Three of them now that were fully functional and learning. They were floating piles of junk with big teeth and the heart of puppies. Or more accurately, the brains of puppies. And Syx loved them.

Petting the glowing dome of number two, he walked out by the water to look out over the lake. His clothes were finally starting to fit him better, Minion had been learning to tailor from one of his Uncle’s wives. His boots were large and steel toed, jeans snug but ripped, and his shirt still large and baggy and layered. But he no longer looked homeless and in his mind… he wasn’t anymore.