Pink, teal, and violet flames danced on liquid torches scattered around the clearing, planted in ley lines that the Varjokh couldn’t quite explain to the visitors. The method of calculation was too archaic and obscure. A subject for another ship’s mission, perhaps.

The light from the chromatic flames jumped across the pale and pastel faces of the Varjokh in dramatic fashion as they moved closer to the central fire, feeding it branches and logs wrapped in colorful strings.

Anand tried to keep his arms close to his sides as he finished wrapping his own branch in a tangle of climbing knots and hitches that made it look rather bumpy.

“You suck at this,” Saffya whispered with a teasing smirk, showing off her equally flawed branch.

Anand snickered. “And you would make a terrible art teacher,” he retorted.

The young man who came around to collect the last of the logs didn’t seem to mind their clumsy efforts, adding them to the bundle in his arms with a warm smile.

“This is… interesting,” Saffiya noted quietly, but couldn’t deny that the simple act of wrapping strings around branches had quieted the worries in her mind, and forged a connection to those around her she couldn’t quite explain.

Then again, that was probably the telepathic field’s doing–Quence had explained (in excruciating detail, of course) how exposure could positively influence interactions and the capacity of empathy in general. Saffiya had listened, nodded approvingly, and ordered Quence to take Valdes for a nice long walk through said empathy-enhancing forest.

The heightened empathy seemed to show in the expressions and demeanor of everyone in the crowd: despite being tightly packed, the Varjohk moved around each other with an uncanny ease of motion. Anand jumped slightly as a woman appeared at his side with a tray of… tea? She passed a bowl to him, and he cupped it carefully in both hands as she offered one to Saffiya as well. “I’ve confirmed with your doctors that this is safe for you to drink while you are gestating,” she offered helpfully.

Saffiya gave a thumbs up. It wasn’t coffee (oh how she missed coffee!), but smelled similar enough. So maybe she’d just close her eyes and pretend.

Anand sniffed the concoction and imagined it to be more like tea. He took a sip.

“Just be certain to wait until the incense has been lit before you drink it,” said the woman quickly. “The smell of the smoke will have a noticeable effect on the flavor of the beverage.”

Anand managed to keep his choking sounds to a bare minimum as a flavor akin to industrial solvent hit his tastebuds. “Thank you for the warning,” he managed weakly.

“That’s what you get for being impatient.” Saffiya nudged him, totally not about to take a sip herself when the warning came.

Anand wriggled in his seat, unsuccessfully parrying her elbow with his own. “I would have tried it anyway. For scientific reasons. I can’t know what the Varjokh consider a noticeable effect on flavor without at least two data points.”

From somewhere, smoke began to rise. Multicolored and carrying a heavy, not quite floral, scent. It drifted through the clearing, rolled over them like a blanket, and settled heavily on their eyelids.

It wasn’t the exhausted kind of tired. There was a sense of peace Saffiya didn’t know how to place, and which she couldn’t remember when she had last experienced it.

Anand watched as her eyelids drooped, and felt his threatening to do the same. He fought the urge, still curious about the ceremony that would guide them into the Dreaming. Glancing around, he spotted some of his crew across the clearing, and could see their shoulders relaxing. Even Qsshrr was there, despite the fact that she had noted that Horta “don’t exactly sleep”. No sign of Lieutenant Ixabi, though, and she had returned to the ship looking so pained by the telepathic cacophony that he could hardly blame her.

Suddenly he was aware of a chanting, and he realized he wasn’t quite sure when it had begun. He tried to focus on the words, and frowned. Pinching his combadge off the front of his uniform, he shook it, as if that would be enough to resolve any universal translator issues. “Do you understand what they’re saying?” he asked Saffiya, speaking slowly around a heavy tongue.

Saffy shook her head. Truth be told, she wasn’t even listening.

Anand shrugged, and with a wobbly arm, attached his combadge to his shoulder instead of his chest. He gripped his bowl of neither-coffee-nor-tea and brought it up to his lips again, and after bracing himself for a long moment, took another sip. “Wow! It tastes like… it tastes like–”

“Sleep.” Saffiya finished his sentence. “If falling asleep had a taste, it would be that.”

“Yeah.” Anand nodded into his cup. “I was going to say fennel, but ‘sleep’ is more accurate.”

He glanced around the clearing again and saw the crowd thinning. Qsshrr and the others were nowhere to be seen. A small group of Varjokh nearby seemed to be pointing at him and Saffiya and giggling, but maybe his drowsy state was just making him paranoid.

“I should… you should… go to your tent. Unless you want to sleep in the clearing,” said Saffiya.

“Right.” Anand finished his drink in one gulp, and let the bowl slip from his hands, unsure of where it landed. Or if it landed. “I have to… help you up. First,” he said as he leaned forward and braced his arms on his thighs. Something landed on his shoulder. Saffy’s head?

“So help me up,” she muttered.

“I am,” he said, as his eyelids fluttered shut and his mind drifted. “I’m standing up. Right now.”

Anand jolted awake once, twice, each time realizing he’d only dreamt the motion. He needed to focus on crawling back to consciousness for just a few more minutes.

Then suddenly he was standing, and there was an arm under his shoulder holding him upright. He caught a glimpse of large, shining black eyes and smiled as he said thank you, or maybe just thought it. A soft grunt next to him, either from Saffiya or from the Varjokh struggling to get her to her feet, assured him that she wouldn’t be left behind. All he had to do was put one foot in front of the other a few more times, and once he made it to his bedroll, he finally let go.