Page 46 of Her Alien Delegate
Broma added, "Our ancestors tried chewing, or swallowing the seeds whole, only to find the seed intact and making the digestive process unpleasant. But elders knew that seeds had tocontain life in them to create a har fruit crop. So they watched the seed to see what would happen if they waited."
I was intrigued and leaned in while staring at the fruit on the table. Broma's voice was so deep and comforting that I could have listened to him talk about anything.
Broma stuck his fingers into the har fruit, rubbing back and forth until a blue seed pushed out. My breathing hitched as I watched him, and I chided myself for sexualizing a fruit like he could be rubbing my clit.
"Looks like this one had enough time to seed," he said, but Broma's eyes weren't on the fruit at all. They were watching me. I gulped and nodded for him to continue. "They found the seeds were shaped with these grooves that caught the wind just right to bury themselves into the ground like a drill, and the ones that didn't would soften enough to squeeze. The oil it gave was much too bitter to eat, which—"
Broma was cut off by the excitement of Vaquel. "The poultice was discovered because our ancient ancestor was pissed off at someone and wanted to ruin the taste of their meal. They added the oil to the lard, but instead of using that batch of lard for food, he was injured on the hunt and had to use it for plugging up the bleeding. A nephic shark has poison that prevents wounds from closing. The lard acts as putty to seal the wound, and instead of simply protecting the wound, the oil from the har seed burned the poison off, and the wound was healed the next rising, while leaving behind a blue tinge to the skin that some warriors like to use for coloring their scars."
"The elder became frustrated that his prank had made his rival the talk of the clan as being blessed for his rapid recovery, that he purposefully hunted to catch a nephic alive to repeat the wound by dueling him with a weapon dipped in nephic venom," Broma absently reached for his ormete braid and then cleared his throat to speedily finish the story, "Eventually, they figuredout that it was the seed oil and both unGors united under the same delegation becoming brothers with great reputations for discovering a great use of har seeds." He took the har fruit and mushed up the flesh until it was a light blue paste with his fingers and then scooped it out. It no longer smelled weird, and he offered me a plate. "It will make the food more tolerable if you spread it on top like a jelly."
It was a jelly, I thought, considering it was simply smashed up fruit, but maybe they called that something different?
"Har jelly," I said while taking the offered plate. Hesitating, I confirmed with him, "The food isn't shit, is it?"
Bode had been quiet lately, and this time he answered in my implant, "It is likely many of the foods from a ship's food generator contain feces from various kinds of species, but your preferences state you do not wish to verify this information so I will say that most ships use molds filled with a mix of ingredients based on their last traveled location. Being as that was Trillume, and a recent shipment from Earth, you might be consuming Earth materials."
I smiled awkwardly. That didn't help.
"I find it easier to eat while traveling when I think about how one species's waste is another's snack," Broma said while liberally applying har jelly to my molded food. "The har fruit is also very good for digestion."
"Just not the seeds," I joked.
Pheyal laughed and patted Broma on the back. "A perfect delegate," he said with a smile, "one that will not agree to be agreeable, but will catch you when you miss a step. This is pleasing."
"A contest!" Pheyal proposed, grabbing a har fruit from Vaquel's hand.
"The har fruit is too ripe," Vaquel replied with disappointment.
"What kind of contest?" I asked, suddenly feeling my inner competitiveness rise to the occasion.
"One where you are the judge," Broma said before licking the har jelly from his fingers, his tongue slipping between the two suggestively, making me shiver.
"You're just going to let him bare his tongue at her like that?" Vaquel complained to Pheyal.
"Has she requested he not?" Pheyal dismissed his concern. The response was a scoff as he folded his arms over his chest; Vaquel's ormete seemed to quiver about his shoulders in annoyance, but also acceptance. At what I didn't know. Though, the last time Broma spoke of tongues, he made it seem like there was a whole law around the display of it, and the last time I did it... Well, I wasn't mad at what happened next.
"And what would I be judging for?" I prompted after they all watched me curiously.
"Eat," Broma insisted, nudging the plate closer, and taking a finger to the food to bring to his lips. He took a bite, sucking it off his finger, and assured, "It is safe. You'll need your energy for the contest."
I scooped up the food with my finger like he did and stuck my tongue out to lick it off, making him moan as he watched. His nostrils flared, and I remembered the way he was when we first met. And then I remembered the way he never returned, and I turned my cheek to him instead, looking at the wall.
"She is upset with you," Vaquel mused with a satisfied harrumph. "If we are playing for which of us will bond first, he will surely not make use of it."
"No, that is a contest for another time," Pheyal's deep voice rumbled. "We will perform a gen of finding."
"An unofficial Gengaktor trial?" Vaquel leaned forward, intrigued.
"How do you do a gen of finding?" I asked, still avoiding eye contact with Broma.
"It is simple," Pheyal replied with a smile. "But we will not do it without your permission. Often, a delegate's consent is implied as they are the host of a Gengaktor Ceremony, but as you do not know our culture, I've suggested it for you, and you need only agree."
Broma explained, "A gen of finding is a ritual of rubbing our scent on you, then the next rising, you will seek out which one of us you wish to give your scent to in return. This helps an unGor form a bond with you."
"How… how do you give your scent?"
Pheyal smiled, his canines extending like a predator.
