To a gentle star

Emely val Smith was not having a particularly good morning. Despite not yet being at the point where Bleu was confident her scans would accurately pick up how large of a litter she could expect given the peculiarities of human and Feliax biology, around two months was apparently ample time for her to develop exceptionally strong morning sickness.

“This is so… one sec…” she managed, before heaving over the bowl that Naera was holding for her, emptying the remnants of last night’s dinner into it. “So irritating.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, grimacing up at her friend. “How come Meli and Trea’k haven’t suffered like this? And as for the emotions… god, I’m practically feral at the moment.”

The plant woman rested a hand on the redhead’s back supportively, setting down the half-full bowl with care and sighing. “Would you change your mind about it?” Naera asked, knowing the answer but also knowing it’d do Emely good to vocalize it at that moment.

“Fuck no. Nae-nae, don’t even suggest that.” Emely pressed a hand protectively to her abdomen. “I might be puking my guts up every morning and alternating between wanting to bite everyone and spending the remainder of my pregnancy getting Dustin to test how much of a pounding I can take, but I wouldn’t change it for anything. I am overjoyed that I’m carrying sir’s… fuck, gimmie a sec…”

The sound of retching filled the room for a moment more, before Emely grimaced and picked up a bottle of water - one that she’d sensibly put near to where she slept the previous night, because this was not the first time she’d had to deal with morning sickness. Swallowing water didn’t really help that much - it mostly just gave her stomach something to expel again, but it did at least take the taste of bile out of her mouth. “Y’kno, Nae-nae, your food tastes amazing, and so does sir’s cum, but only the first time around. Right… hopefully that’ll be it for today and I can actually get up and get to work; I’ve gotta talk the imperial cow through some more human culture so she doesn’t make herself look like an idiot in front of everyone again, apparently.”

Silver hair drifted into her vision as Naera leaned forward, green-skinned arms wrapping around Emely for a moment before the Caenii planted a kiss on her cheek. “You should at least try and give the impression you don’t want to shove her out of an airlock, Emmz,” Naera suggested, before turning Emely’s head and kissing her on the nose. “And maybe brush your teeth first,” the plant woman added, wrinkling her nose at the Feliax woman’s breath after the extended stomach-emptying session.

Princess Jaisyl Reh’unn was not having a good morning. She’d been woken up by the ship’s AI at the time she had requested, but to her consternation there hadn’t been a single servant allocated to dress her. It was literally the morning of her first full day on the ship, they’d barely left her home planet, and already she had lost a piece of the lifestyle she was accustomed to.

Dressing had taken her far longer than she’d have liked as a result. She’d even forgone several layers of petticoat, with the result that her lower-half looked like a deflated football rather than it’s usual perky cupcake shape, while an attempt to lace up her top on her own had nearly ended with her hanging upside-down from a wall hook by her corset. Thus, she was now having to make do with the only top she could find that she could get on and that also fit - a loose, hooded garment emblazoned with the ship’s crest on the back that had been in her wardrobe when she arrived. It was at least warm - a good thing, given she’d not been able to find anything suitable to wear under the soft fabric that was now wrapping her torso.

Making a note to find out where the helpful butterfly woman was located so that she could ask for some kind of proper support for her breasts, which were currently doing their best to push open the ridiculous top, she was in less than a good mood when she opened her door to find the irritable, irritating fox girl stood outside, one hand raised towards the communications panel.

“Oh good, you’re up.” Emely frowned as she took in the princess’s outfit. “What in Felio’s name are you wearing? A hoodie with a ballgown? Is that the fashion on your planet?”

Jaisyl flinched at the Feliax’s tone, then shook herself. What was she doing flinching at a random alien’s words? Straightening up, she gave Emely one of her chilliest stares. “It is not. However, I appear not to have been provided with any staff, and without a maid at least to help it is apparently impossible to properly fit my corset. Please do not mock my attire until such time as I have been able to secure suitable non-laced tops; I have yet to explore the ship’s inventory.”

The redhead paused, then nodded. “I’ll do my best. Although, you can’t dress yourself properly without maids? Just how useless are you? No, don’t answer that. I’m here to talk you through human culture which is awesome - but I’m also feeling like shit and very hormonal so try and not be… whatever it is that you usually are,” she concluded, waving her hand vaguely in the princess’s direction.

Jaisyl noted the tone, the expression, and the almost imperceptible swell of the fox girl’s abdomen and wisely nodded. She might have been many things, but she was not blind enough to cause trouble for someone who was pregnant. And there was also the fact that she was still trying to figure out why so many of the women aboard seemed not only happy to be intimate with the ambassador, in all his hornless mediocrity, but actively wanted to carry his offspring.

Meli’a Smith was having an incredibly frustrating morning. Not sexually; both Dustin and Rye had seen to that, the pair rising early to ensure she arrived at the breakfast table fully relaxed, and freshly showered. Not socially; she’d shared a lovely discussion about their upcoming births with Trea’k, while Aricia listened attentively and occasionally snapped pictures when the butterfly woman thought they wouldn’t notice.

No, her morning was frustrating professionally. Bleu, much as she loved the Queri medic, was an unmitigated dictator when it came to Meli’s pregnancy and the health of her twins. Even before they arrived at the Tho’unn homeworld she’d been relegated to ‘desk duties’ - anything she could carry out while sat in a chair. Now, the azure woman had decided even that limited level of work would be too much.

Meli wasn’t on bed rest, thankfully - the Velca was pretty sure if Bleu had demanded that of her that she’d have opted to hide in her quarters where the medic couldn’t observe her easily, just so she could at least remain somewhat mobile. Especially when the twins were kicking, which they seemed to be doing at ever more frequent intervals.

But, regardless of everything else, she was unable to do any real work. So, all she could do was sit around in the ready room, the galley, the gardens or the viewing gallery and read. Even that activity was somewhat curtailed, Bleu having added a rather selective filter to Meli’s tablet to prevent her seeing anything that might give her excessive rather than just moderate stress.

She was currently sat trying to find a way around that filter - unsuccessfully - in the garden. So focussed was she that the first she was aware of someone approaching was when a shadow fell over the tablet screen.

“I’d give up on tryin’ to get past the filter, Nerd. Bubbles asked me to set it up, and it’s hooked directly into the AI core. Unless ya can convince Dusty to tell Sola to disconnect from it, ya won’t be able to bypass it.” Rye reached down as she spoke, plucking the tablet from Meli’s fingers and adding it to the collection clipped to her belt. “Anyway, enough moping around. I need to talk through some stuff, and you’re the best person to do it with. C’mon, I got a plan.”

Meli allowed herself to be guided upright - if only because of the potential chance Rye’s words gave her. If she knew anything about her Rabyth lover, it was that there was no way she’d have built a filter like that without a backdoor. As the blonde led her away from the garden, Meli made idle conversation. “So what’s this plan then?”

Rye smiled at her as they got into the turbolift. “I figure, you’re probably achy from carrying all that extra weight, and I… well, I need to talk over what it’d be like if I got into a similar state. Just, y’kno, as an thought experiment. So, we’re gonna go sit in one of the swimming pools, drink doctor-approved mocktails, and chat. And before you ask, no I won’t let you through the backdoor in the filter - but if it’s really stressing you out, just tell Bleu and Dusty. The whole point is to keep you low-stress until we get back to Earth.”