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Just about any minute now, they thought. The hatchling- Nova- was asleep in their sleeping back, across the fire from where they sat on a log. They found themself at that spot often enough, whether it be for stewing in their thoughts, awaiting the landing of a ship (only to find, once again, at least a few things were damaged, and they went on another tangent to whichever pilot it might have been), or just to get some sort of solitude without having to go into a cabin or leave the village itself. They hated being cramped up in a cabin when they didn't have to be. They also hated walking that distance on foot.
Anyway. The only reason they were actually specifically there tonight was to make sure Nova woke up in time, and that they didn't just end up just sleeping past their designated launch schedule. First launch, big day, or night, rather. They had even bigger nerves about it, of course. Slate knew. It wasn't exactly a secret to anybody. Ideally, they would offer some sort of pre-launch words of encouragement- maybe even tone it down on the specifics of the ship's build, if they didn't get carried away. It was safe. They weren't lying. Just because their definition of 'safe' wasn't the same as Gossan's definition, didn't mean it invalidated it. They were the one to design all of the ships, for Hearth's sake! Not Gossan. They scowled at the fire, at nothing in particular, maybe hoping that, somehow, Gossan could feel their irritation all the way from over in the Zero-G cave. Yeah. Real likely, that.
They never really had much to do these days. Not apart from making adjustments on the astronaut's equipment as they made their pit stops on Timber Hearth. Things still just weren't really ever the same without them around. Apparently, it really was harder to create trouble (read: good times) out of nothing when you were all on your own. They certainly were not going to ask Gossan to go on a playdate with them. As if. And hornfels was, well… Hornfels. Not a lot of options to work with, there. They missed them, and they hated to think about them. They chugged a bit of sap wine, and it did its job. The taste and burning feeling going down their throat was an acceptable means of keeping those unpleasant thoughts at bay.
They shot another glance at the hatchling, who, they realized, seemed to be stirring, but not quite waking. They were mumbling in their sleep, and their breathing was becoming steadily more rapid. Hm. Must be a nightmare. They had accounted for that, of course. It also was not a secret that they struggled with nightmares at times. Which seemed to be exacerbated by nerves or stress. They'd learned that quite easily during those few weeks when Nova was recovering, spending most of their days in a daze, sleeping and sleeping and just sleeping so much– they bit down the uncomfortable feeling that brought with it, again. Another sip of sap wine, for good luck, or something along those lines.
They stood and walked over to where Nova slept and kneeled by their side, shaking their shoulder lightly.
"Hey. C'mon, wake up, little astronaut-to-be. It's uh," they glanced up at the sky as if it would offer a more specific answer that they didn't already have, mostly from literally just sitting there while they slept, idly accounting for the passing time in their trusty old noggin. Foolproof method, if they were being honest. "...Time. To launch. Yeah. You've got things to do before you actually launch, so best get up now, and–"
Slate most certainly did not startle so bad that they fell back on their rear, and they also did not break the not-really-fall with their hand closest to the fire, settling almost directly in the very outer edge of the flames, and they did not yelp like they were some sort of meekly, frightened hatchling. No. If anyone tried to say any of those things had ever even taken place, they would be lying. They hissed and shook their hand, like it was going to actually do something to relieve the pain.
Regardless of the way they absolutelydidnotreact, Nova woke up with a gasp, and the way they were almost choking for breath had them worried they were having an attack, or something. They shot up in their sleeping bag, clutching a fistful of their shirt and tugging it away from their throat, like they really couldn't breathe, and Slate was a little at a loss as to what they were supposed to do. Gneiss had always been far better equipped to soothe panicked hatchlings. Or Gossan… at least, when it came to this panicked hatchling, very specifically. Or…
"Hey," they started, cautiously, and they chose not to try to reach a hand out to offer comfort, because they knew they were very touch averse with almost everyone- which most certainly included them- and actually, they were probably at the top of that list. Anyway. Just act calm. Act calmer than the hatchling, who was clearly having a pre-launch mental breakdown- and offer comfort. Easy enough. They were freaked out. Why wouldn't they be? "Okay, okay- hey, you had a nightmare, didn't you? That's okay, happens to the best of us. Even Gabbro–"
"N-No! No, no, y- you, don't, you do- don't even, no one- oh, stars above, I ca- can't–"
Sure. Wonderful. A full blown mental breakdown then, clearly. They suppressed a groan and pondered their options. Well, really, there weren't many as it were. They could fetch Gneiss, because again, they always knew what to do, but they didn't particularly want to make them walk all the way there. They could fetch Gossan, however. They sincerely could not have cared any less about making them walk all the way– they weren't that old. Technically, Slate was older than they were. So. Simple as. They would fetch Gossan, and Gossan would know what to do, and they would fix the situation and comfort the hatchling in the way Slate never seemed to be capable of doing, and Slate could slink back to their cabin and curl up in bed with a bottle of sap wine until they forgot about how miserable they felt, however temporarily.
Slate pushed themself up to stand, or well, tried to stand– and damned stars above that hurt, their damn hand– but a smaller hand grabbing their wrist and tugging on it made them stop. Looked back down. Nova's eyes were so wide, glistening with tears. Honestly, they were a bit of a mess. They wouldn't let go of their wrist even when Slate tried to shake them off.
"Oh, for– Nova, hatchling, I'm going to need you to let me go so I can get Gossan," they grumbled, still trying to shake them off, to no avail. "Let go. I'm not leaving you alone for long. You want to see Gossan, don't you? Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
"The- there's- no time," they wailed in protest, and they were starting to grip their wrist so tight it was hurting, and they really had to keep a level head, because clearly Nova wasn't in their right head, and clearly they were going to be needing to ground them for medical reasons until further notice. "Pl- Please. Please. Don't. I do- don't. Wanna be alone. Do- don't wanna die. Alone. No- not again. Please."
Die? What were they even on about? Good stars above, if they thought they were even nearly old enough to even have to consider the notion of death, then Slate must've been a walking, talking skeleton. Must have been one hell of a nightmare. Or maybe something else was going on. Not like they were a qualified expert on the matter of Hearthian Brains and Behaviors.
Slate groaned and decided, for the time being, it was the best course of action to simply sit back down and just try to figure it out.
How hard could it be? There's no way it would be more complicated than taking care of a sickly tadpole. Which they had done. At least a few times. Maybe not nearly as often as Gossan… and Feldspar… had– considering those two always seemed to be the ones looking after little Novaculite, practically attached at the hip. They ignored the irritating ache that bit at their heart. Deal with it later. Just. Literally any other time.
"Okay. Fine. I'm here. See? Right here. Not leaving," they muttered. "As if I have a choice in the matter," they thought, a little too bitterly. Why were they in such a mood, anyway? Nova hadn't done anything to them. Everyone knew how they felt about space. They were the one to willingly choose to stay up to guide them when they woke up for their launch. They really should have gone a lot easier on the sap wine.
Anyway. Slate might have been just a little unnerved, seeing the state they were in. They looked almost catatonic. Rocking just slightly in place, mumbling things under their breath that Slate probably couldn't decipher if they even wanted to try.
And there they were doing it again, scratching and picking at the skin on their upper arm– hadn't they gotten a lot better with not doing that? Well. Obviously, they were pretty distressed. Whatever. Slate sighed and, reluctantly, grabbed both of Nova's hands so they couldn't keep hurting themself. Somehow, they had thought they wouldn't actually even have a reaction to it, considering how utterly out of sorts they were. But they gasped and tried to pull away from them. Slate held them tight.
"Wh- what are, what- Slate, st- stop. Stop!"
It was a tall order to keep a level head as it already was, and being yelled at was not helping matters. Stay calm. Just. Stay. Calm.
"Listen. I need you to at least try to calm down. You were hurting yourself. I can't let you keep doing that," they tried to explain, but they really weren't convinced that much of it was getting through to them, with how glazed over their eyes looked. "If you promise you won't hurt yourself, I'll let you go. If you do it again, I'll do it again."
Nova blinked a few times. A few moments of silence, (quite a few), passed until they seemed to register what they were even saying.
"...Yes."
"That's not–" they groaned. Stars, they did not make this easy. But then again, it still was… admittedly more of an acknowledgement than they expected to get from them. Lucid enough that it seemed they did understand. More or less. "Okay. Yeah. Sure." they dropped Nova's hands and rubbed their eyes.
Nova was still trembling pretty hard, but they seemed… okay. Strictly comparing to how they were about five minutes prior. Slate still wasn't ready to risk leaving quite yet, considering they only just got a little less panicked. Knowing them, it would just start all over again. Unless someone happened to walk by that they could send to fetch Gossan, they had a feeling they would be stuck there for a while. Whatever. They had signed up for that.
"It ha- happened again. I can't believe, ho- how was I so careless again–" they were mumbling, clearly not intending to be addressing Slate directly. They had trouble believing nothing significant happened before they fell asleep for it to end up like this.
"What happened again?"
Nova didn't look their way, or acknowledge them at all, for that matter. Didn't really bother them.
"Brittle Hollow. Tr- Tripped. On debris. Th- that I already memorized. I kn- knew when it would fall. But I still tripped on it. And, I fe- fell, again–"
They were close to just giving up on trying to make any sense of what was really going on with Nova. A nightmare, that was obvious enough. But just a nightmare– they couldn't comprehend how one nightmare could be the cause of them waking up catatonic, and even after calming down a little, they didn't seem to be acknowledging anything that was actually happening. Almost like they were stuck in the nightmare still. That didn't really make sense. Not everything that was true always made sense, though. Stars above, they were not about to wax philosophical and act like they knew literally anything that was happening. Too much sap wine. Way, way too much.
"What, did Riebeck talk to you about Brittle Hollow; or something? Maybe Gabbro? I'll have to have a word with–"
"No!" they interrupted, and they actually did turn to look straight at Slate, and it was kind of unnerving. "No. No. No- Not you- wh- why wont you. Listen. Yo- you never- you never wanted t-to listen to any of us!"
Their head was spinning. They really needed to not lash out.
"I don't even know what you're on about! You never went to Brittle Hollow. You never died. You haven't even had your first launch, for Hearth's sake! And a good thing, too, because I'm certainly going to have to ground you for medical reasons after this."
Nova's bottom lip was quivering a little, and oh please do not start crying again-
"I… it's. Wh- whatever. For the best."
…okay. Slate was beyond confounded. Were they having a fever dream? Was that what was going on? Why did they just seem to snap so quickly back to reality? They really, truly, were not cut out for this.
"I do- don't think I wa- was ever… meant for th- this. Anyway. It w-was a mistake."
Hm. They seemed to be on the same page, albeit for entirely different reasons. Slate let out a long sigh. Okay. Just forgo all rationality. Why not? Nothing was making any sense, anyway. Maybe that was the answer.
"That's a pretty hefty statement, after all that training you did." They chose not to include the obvious. They glanced at Nova's prosthetic arm and hand for a split second before quickly averting their gaze.
"Yo- you… don't even understand," they muttered.
Slate huffed, almost amused. Were they having a calm, collected discussion, suddenly? Sure. So, the answer was to stop trying to rationalize Nova's frighteningly quick shifts of emotions and responses. They could go along with that. Maybe the sap wine was impairing their judgment.
"Maybe I don't. But maybe I don't have to understand to talk some sense into that thick skull of yours."
Nova glared daggers right through them. Slate merely stared back with the most deadpan look they could muster. It was a staring contest of sorts, until they clearly got uncomfortable and finally looked away. They were still glaring. Just, directed at the ground, now. Hatchlings.
"Look. I get it. Maybe you've convinced yourself that I don't, but I do. You think I wasn't heavily involved in Riebeck's training, too? Or did you conveniently forget I oversee most of the future astronaut training?"
"I- I didn't fo- forget! I just. I. Ugh," they groaned, and tugged on their pants in frustration, and, well, it was most certainly better than what they had been doing previously. "It's… st- stupid. All of it."
Slate huffed. "Well, I can't exactly disagree with you there."
Nova shot another wary look their way, and Slate just merely shrugged their response.
"It's normal to be afraid. Healthy, even. You just can't let that fear get the better of you," and there they were, waxing philosophical, despite their own claims. "Don't discredit yourself so much. You did well. In training, I mean. Pretty skilled, even before you even knew what you were really doing."
"It… isn't th- that much of an accomplishment. All I did was… apply my kn- knowledge from learning. Reading. I'm not–"
"See, now, that's where I can say for certain you couldn't be more incorrect," they waved a hand at them with a small chuckle, and they had to really try not to laugh at the irritation that was obvious on their face. Well. It was leaps and bounds better to see than… yeah. "Because, if that were true, Hornfels wouldn't be so lousy with a damn jetpack. Do you even know how much they read up on it and made me lecture them about the basics before they tried to put those skills to use? Because I can tell you. In fact, Gneiss could, too. And Gossan. Hornfels probably would admit to it themself, frankly. Humble to a fault, as they say."
"... Huh."
Slate allowed silence to fall between them for a few moments because, frankly, they were utterly worn down to the bone. They weren't even cut out for being an emotional support line for themself, let alone anybody else. Still… Nova was calm. Actually calm. Probably not really thanks to them by any means, but. Maybe they still needed the company. Well. Obviously they needed the company.
A small gasp, almost too soft to even hear, brought them back to reality again. Nova was staring up at the sky. And they realized much too late, that maybe they hadn't had that obnoxious, almost painful ringing in their ears because they were zoning out, but rather–
Slate cursed and grabbed the hatchling, and pulled them close. Shielded their body underneath theirs, as if it was actually going to do anything to save them. They couldn't know for certain, but that bright, blinding light somehow felt like it could only have been one thing. They didn't even have time to think any more of it through. Their senses were engulfed, and all they could do was hold on tight. Nova said something about not wanting to be alone, right? Well. At least there was one last thing they could do for them.