Omega was getting a sense of deja vu.

The Hospitalitor was asking some very similar questions as she had once asked Pylo.

“I see, you make these seeds into a powdery meal? And so many varieties with such bland flavors? And all of the mixing with eggs and milk? Like a loaf? But you heat it... Hmmm”

Omega wondered how many of those things were translating right.

Were the terrans coming across as weird as Pylo once had?

Or was everything she was saying finding a proper fit in the Hospitalitor’s head like what she was hearing from it?

Periodically the figure which was by all accounts a great fuzzy beast dressed up in finery would suddenly breath very rapidly while saying nothing at all. The throat/neck pulsing on the top and bottom as it- no as HE seemed to need to catch his breath.

She wondered what that was about.

Either way she really should not be thinking of HIM like an animal.

This was a person and for some reason Pylo seemed to be translating them in a manner that definitely matched the andronic type.

Her grasp of biology and anatomy was not very deep without a soul-share. Was there something significant there?

Omega’s own memories and those she let ride her knew of the type.

That children who took after it were much more common in the midlands. Compared to the near extinction of the trait in Aoria’s relatively tiny population.

In modern Terran society andronism was very rare, she’d only known one or two of them in the university. And seen a couple out in public whenever she was out shopping.

Maybe there had been a few at the Port? It was hard to recall.

But in contrast at least every other one of ‘The People’ that they had met had spoken with cues that were distinctly terran andronic.

It was striking really the way that the tone was so much deeper. It paired closely to the actually audible ‘speech’ that hummed through you as much was heard when one was speaking in the same atmosphere. Although that bass tone was uniform to those that with normal voice translations and the strange other half.

She racked her brain and small council of souls for what that might mean culturally?

Was it some kind of minority that was highly prevalent?

Was there some kind of cultural selection for a rare trait in leadership among the People?

Some kind of wealth disparity?

Were the people’s equivalent of the andronic traits just more inclined to diplomatic engagement?

She felt the itch of something she should be remembering that meant she had not associated the actual memory with something often worn in a soul share.

It was distracting and annoying.

Almost as much as the little fluttering leaps of her heart whenever she met Quarti’s eyes.

Ugh.

Sycophants were awful soul share choices.

Muddied things up terribly.

Aleph was on point though so Omega’s mildly stumbling confusion and tangent throwing thinking seemed to be alright.

“Yeah, it’s to make the grains more digestible. Easier on our stomachs, more accessible calories, less diseases-”

The Hospitalitor did that mouth opening thing that was a nod.

“Ah yes yes, we cook many things like that. Just not this specific way of it for those specific things. Mincing and searing seeds? I will discuss it with my staff for later. A Curious Idea.”

He sounded friendly enough with all of that to Omega.

He also simultaneously sounded like his voice was making her skin tremble like the skin of the drum.

With a mostly comparable density of atmosphere outside the bubble as inside it; sound was getting a lot more readily passed through.

“I think that... yes we should have plenty of fine dishes you will all enjoy. In fact many of them should be quite delightful for each of your tongues.”

Aleph spoke up again.

"You don't have to make all special copies of foods from our home! I mean what's the point of being in an alien port if we don't try new exotic things?"

He made a gesture to the side of his head with one hand and squinted with all four eyes in a friendly manner. It was if Omega was reading the cues from Pylo right a kind of congenial dismissal of a foolish thought and an absolving of potential dishonor.

Huh very dense gesture.

“Oh we won’t even begin the attempt. Even among the people the masters of one order cannot hope to match the efforts of another’s in the culinary traditions. We will prepare those foods of Tradition we know best but ensure that they will be palatable and safe for you.”

He gaped that slight parting of lips that was a nod again.

“The servings so chosen will be close to your places at the feast. And fear not! You should not feel you must eat any if a flavor or smell is harsh or distasteful. We will hold no honor or insult if you find some clash with you. But I do hope each of you will find something to delight you. Now I must prepare my staff and the council of chefs of these tidings so they can be prepared to delight you.”

And then he was off to the ‘bush’ of assembling branches and densely moving crowd of figures.

Steam, smoke and flashes of phosphorescence and maybe even fire were already wreathing the assemblage.

At some point Elsie had come around to drift beside them again.

“It’s so beautifully done...”

The words were tinged with a hint of awe that Omega was not sure she had ever heard in the normally monotone voice that Elsie spoke with to the terrans. Especially not simultaneously sounding so much lower resolution.

The way that the bizarre slight glitching somehow emphasized the emotion rather than distracted put her into even further contemplations.

Aleph chuckled into the silence that had stretched out as they approached.

“Reminds me a bit of the fires and festivals in the valley after the Emerald spring rain.”

She had to think hard to recall what Aleph was talking about but on reflection she had to agree. It was a lot like that. Distant bonfires far away.

But they were drifting leisurely down into it like a cloud.

“Yeah, It is and It’s not.”

It felt like such an inane thing to say and yet honestly Omega could not find better words.

The moment simply was