lady-of-greenwood:

patternofdefiance:

just-a-kind-of-magic:

Imagine being a human in an alien crew in space and leaving with bright blue or pink hair and the color fades and everybody on board wonders WHY you are losing your colors??? Is it the lack of greens? Are you sad? Angry? They just don’t know??

“Human-Kelly may we have a moment of your time?”

Kelly pauses in her inventorying of the photo-synth plates she’ll be installing after today’s cycle ends. “It’s just Kelly, hellot-Halzar, you don’t have to acknowledge my species every time we talk.” She smiles. “That’s not considered rude for us.”

“Very well hu—Kelly. Erm. May we have a moment of your time?” Many eyes blink earnestly at her.

“Sure. What’s up?”

hellot-Halzar considers. “May we discuss the structural nature of the ship interior and gravity-derived reference values at a later date? At this moment we would like to inquire as to the nature of your corporeal change.”

“Yeah sure—wait my what?”

“There is a mess hall wager.”

“About my –?”

“Concerning your strands,” hellot-Halzar says, gesturing.

“My….hair.” Kelly runs a hand through it. It’s purple as of two ship days ago. “Ok?”

“We wish to know whether the colour change signifies mood, nutritional intake variance, or ….erm….whether your mating season status has changed.”

“My mating season status, huh?” Kelly lifts an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“Did Jerry put you up to this?”

“Human-Jerry refused to answer our questions about your strands, citing some phenomenon known to your homeworld as ‘famine in missed eek’.”

Kelly snorted. “Tell Jerry he can shove his archaic ideas about ‘feminine mystique’ where M-series stars don’t shine. As for your bet: sorry, it’s none of the above. I changed my hair because my last box of dye was about to expire and because I felt like it.”

hellot-Halzar considers. “chinret-Zer wins then, by technicality: that reason falls within acceptable parameters for ‘mood’.”

“I suppose it does.” Kelly pauses. “Who bet on the ‘mating season’ one?”

“Hmm?” hellot-Halzar had already turned to go and deliver the verdict. They turn one set of eyes back. “Oh that would be Drannuc. He said he smelled a difference in you.”

“Delightful,” Kelly says, instead of explaining menstruation and how that can affect mood, diet, and that technically it correlates to what most of the species on the ship would consider a mating season.
“Next time, instead of betting, maybe just ask questions? And not Jerry. He’s a jerk.”

“Reclassifying human-Jerry as jerk-Jerry. We will approach you with all human queries from now on,” hellot-Halzar says and then continues on their way.

Probably for the best, she thinks with a lopsided grin, and then continues sorting the photo-synth plates to install on her space walk tomorrow.

“Reclassifying human-Jerry as jerk-Jerry” 

Pure. There is no other word.