Page 58 of Sway’s Peace (Delivery Service #2)

Grace

Farasie culture didn't really have a hierarchy. The peaceful species had leaders, but since there weren’t any wars or violent power struggles in their history, there also hadn’t been an attempt by those on top to subjugate those on bottom.

A class system was never necessary because the people were content and pleasant with each other at all times.

There were pros and cons to such a way of living.

They were very strict about it at this point and committing violence was absolutely not allowed.

It was criminal. And not just in the same way it would be illegal on Earth.

It was that horrible, taboo sort of crime that would make people curl their noses up at you and judge you harshly for having done it.

A drunken fight might not earn any respect on Earth, but it wouldn’t earn nearly the same level of derision as it did in the Song.

This was explained to Grace by Evwa, an older farasie female that had been asked by Veesway specifically to teach her their ways.

A task that she took to with the seriousness of a general explaining battle plans to their captains.

And maybe a war comparison was not the best choice when Grace was being lectured on the importance of pacifism, but it was the closest one she could make considering how serious and stern the orange female was while talking.

Violence was only allowed for the express purpose of protecting yourself or your family.

And murder was outright taboo, no matter the reason.

If someone broke into your house, you were expected to neutralize them in the least violent way possible.

In fact, it was best to just run away entirely.

It was nice, in theory, but Grace could already see the glaring problems that kind of belief could present.

She kept those thoughts to herself though as she nodded along with her lessons.

The more she heard, the more Evwa condemned violence so vehemently, the more concerning it became, however.

Knowing what she did of Sway’s past, she was rather certain that no one here would ever forgive and accept him.

Not the way she did. But that was also something she kept to herself as she focused instead on enjoying the pampering of the other ladies moving around her.

The farasie were nice as individuals, and there was a lot of emphasis on the arts in their people. It was an area of study that was allowed to flourish without obstruction in the absence of things like war and violent crime. They could instead focus on beauty in all things.

She had blue feathers braided into her hair.

They weren’t farasie feathers, that would have been weird, but they were still the exact color of Sway’s feathers.

Which, she thought, was probably the point.

Creams were massaged into her skin. Subtle, soft makeup was applied to her face.

Grace was honestly used to this kind of treatment, as it was how life had been growing up with her mother.

Including the fact that she was being lectured through the entire process.

Evwa continued drill her pretty hard about the no-violence thing. Which became almost insulting after a point. Grace felt uncomfortably like they thought she was some kind of wild beast that would bite any of them at the slightest provocation.

However, she also got lectures on other things.

The role of a female farasie in the home and in relationships in general.

What was expected when a female was carrying an egg and proper hatching techniques.

The importance of not eating any meat at all while carrying a farasie youngling.

They had no way of knowing if it would make the youngling sick while she was forming the egg in her womb, but they didn't want to risk it.

Grace asked for none of that information.

It wasn’t like she didn't want or appreciate it, but it was still all dumped on her at once. That was how she learned that the farasie people laid eggs and, since humans tended to carry like the paternal species, that meant if she bred with Sway, she was going to be laying eggs. But no one let her grapple with that surprise because they wanted to make sure she knew she absolutely couldn’t eat meat if she was gravid.

Not that she would have anyway. In fact, she would be surprised if she would even be capable of eating meat if she was carrying a farasie hybrid.

Humans were the only species capable of making hybrids, and only the females could do it.

They also developed in their pregnancy most similar to the species that they were carrying, which was how she knew she would definitely be laying an egg.

But if she was going to be carrying like a farasie, that meant she probably wouldn’t be able to eat meat.

But even if she still could, it wouldn’t be something she’d risk just in case.

Not that she could bring that up, because there were plenty of things Evwa needed to lecture her about, so there was no time for questions during the lessons. It was straight from one topic into the next and she was expected to just keep up.

Honestly, it was too much like living back home.

The constant lectures on how to be a better woman and wife was exactly what her mom would have done to her.

Had done to her, in fact. Grace could keep up with Evwa no problem thanks to sheer experience, but it did also mean that she was having trouble smiling through it.

Here it was again. Grace just wasn’t good enough.

She wasn’t pretty enough by farasie standards – her skin being gross and fleshy and not even a bright, vibrant color. She had no tail feathers either, which was a shame. She was lucky Sway had developed a taste for foreign females, because no female without a tail would be considered attractive.

She wasn’t peaceful enough. Surely, Grace had committed some violence in her life. She just didn't realize it, since barbarism was so common and accepted where she was from. They were going to have to watch her carefully and correct her before she did something unforgivable.

She wasn’t a good enough mate. She had to learn all of this quickly and adjust immediately. Sway deserved no less. He deserved more, in fact. She should have been researching all this before they even arrived so she could be sure she was doing things right.

She wasn’t a good enough singer. That was, admittedly, a wholly new complaint.

Grace certainly wasn’t good at singing, but she wasn’t bad either.

She could hold a tune and sing along. But her ability to whistle was weak and the sound deeply unpleasant.

She would definitely have to improve on that.

How was she expected to be a good mate if she couldn’t even sing for her male without shrieking?

None of it was ever overt or deliberately insulting. It was all said with that sweet, helpful kind of tone of someone who thought they were doing you a favor by harshly, ruthlessly, pointing out all your flaws. Like she should be thanking them for it.

By the time Sway found her again, she was smiling the picture perfect, practiced, carefully cultivated smile her mother had drilled into her since birth. She was sitting up with her ankles crossed, like a lady, fighting back the urge to break down sobbing.

She hated this. She hated the creeping sense of inadequacy. The sickening feeling of knowing she’d never be good enough. That she was a failure. That she was so grossly imperfect. She’d been awash in nothing else the entire day and the toll was heavy on her.

She needed to run. To get away. But she knew if she did that, she would be an even greater failure. And unlike when she left Earth, she would have to return here and face the consequences of that choice. She couldn’t get away this time. She couldn’t-

The crowd of females around her parted, and through them, walking with the grace and confidence of a benevolent god come to release her from her prison, was Sway.

When did he change clothes?

Grace saw him earlier in the crowd, talking to his father in his jumpsuit.

The two of them left together after that, and she had even been a little relieved.

While she didn’t expect a paternal relationship to bloom between those two after all this time, it would be nice if they could meet as friends, with affection.

She was willing to tolerate all this if it meant Sway’s life got better.

Now, here he was. Approaching her again wearing farasie style clothes.

And it wasn’t just the fact that he had changed clothes.

It was in the way he wore them. He actually looked comfortable draped in the loose-fitting fabric.

Maybe it was because it was darker now. Instead of white or bright, eye-catching patterns, the fabric was mostly gray with some simple chevron patterning on the hems. Instead of a reed belt, he wore his worn, black utility belt.

Instead of sandals or bare feet, he was wearing his heavy, black boots.

Like he’d matched the farasie style to the darker clothing he typically wore and found a more comfortable medium between the two.

The result was a confidence in his gait she hadn’t seen before.

And his crest was up.

High and proud, not at all dissimilar to the other males around him. But, in her opinion, even better, brighter, than anyone else’s.

More than that, however, was his tail.

The long, elegant feathers were flared out for the first time. The gray, dark colors of his clothes only made the orange, yellow, and fuchsia seem brighter. They trailed behind him like a cape, fluttering gently in the movement of his steps.

And in his hands, on an elegant silver tray, was an array of treats. Fruits cut into simple shapes, circles and triangles and squares. Little sandwiches, veggie and meat both. Little piles of whipped cream – savory or sweet, she couldn’t tell at a glance.

Sway offered her a smile, and his hand.