The Art of Mingling
" ... lot o' furs here," Rhine breathed, over the rim of her cool, clear glass, which was half-full of alcohol, ice cubes clinking about. "All of 'em thinkin' 'bout the same thing." Her sturdy rudder-tail steered aimlessly behind her, brown-furred and brushing the carpeted floor.
"And what would that be?" the grey squirrel asked. Her name was Daisy, and she was one of the squirrel representatives. She was only twenty-four, but her silver, slate-colored fur made her, at first glance, appear older. Or, as she liked to say, 'more mature.' "Mm?"
" ... tail," Rhine eventually supplied.
A giggle-squeak. "We're not that helpless, are we?"
"What? Furs?" A wave of a paw. "Worse."
The squirrel, admittedly tipsy herself, giggle-chittered with mirth, giving a lazy sigh. "Well ... okay, 'tail' had crossed my mind. A few times." Pause. "Lots of times." A helpless look. "I'm not gonna lie. But it just depends, doesn't it? I got the tail. My husband wants it." A tilt of her head. Her husband was a muskrat named Theo, and he was off in the crowd somewhere. "So, I'm not thinking about getting tail ... as much as I am giving it."
"Huh." The otter nodded, her sturdy figure swaying slightly to whatever music was playing in the background. Some live orchestra. Some tune she didn't know. "Yeah, true ... we give it, they get it. An' everyone's happy. For 'bout six, seven hours." A cheeky grin, and another sip of her drink, smacking her lips a bit. "Taste o' vanilla. Like that. It's gotta have flavor ... but not too sweet, else it hurts my teeth."
Daisy chittered. "Well, I only ever drink at these functions." She looked around. "It's the only way to get through them. Hours of just ... hob-knobbing, saying, 'hello, my name is ... ' and ' ... who are you'? For all the lavishness and elegance on display, it can be quite trying." A pause. "Tail, though ... to get back on topic," she said.
"Please," Rhine said, giving a polite, smiling nod.
A chitter. " ... just that, to be technical, they're not even getting actual tail. They're getting between the legs. That's not 'tail.' That's femininity."
"Guess it's just one o' them metaphors. Or can you have one-word metaphors? Don't know y'can. Anyway, when I say 'tail,' y'know what I mean." A breath, continuing, "And it rolls off the tongue. One syllable. You don't say, 'darling, I wanna have intimate relations ... not unless you're a snow rabbit or some other ice-fur. No, you say, 'I wanna breed ... I wanna have sex. Wanna make love. I want tail. One syllable, each of those words: breed, sex, tail, love. Cause, see, when you're that worked up, you can't even waste one breath ... just gotta have the words be as easy to say, y'know, as they can be. Even one extra syllable can drag ya down."
Daisy shook her head, eyes glinting. "What a theory. You know, you're totally tipsy."
"Maybe a tad little ... "
" ... totally."
" ... bit."
"Rhine ... "
"I'm an otter, an' I got an otter's metabolism. Nothin' sneaks up on me," she declared, almost proudly.
"Am I intruding?" came Audra's voice, as she suddenly emerged onto the scene, eyes wide and curious, ears arched and alert.
Rhine jumped a bit, giving a bark. "Gosh ... " She put a paw over her breast, over her heart. "Good grief. Quiet as a mouse, indeed! And I thought it was just a sayin' ... "
Audra smiled. "Sorry to startle you. I can leave if you two, uh ... "
" ... we're just being chatty," Daisy assured. "Nothing private. You been here the whole time? At the party, I mean?"
The field mouse nodded, looking around, nose sniffing and ears swiveling. "Yeah, I have been." Her tail snaked cautiously, carefully. "Who's watching the cub?" Audra asked Rhine, as Rhine and Orinoco had a four-month old son.
"Ori's mom. They live near us, y'know, on the Kenapocomoco," she said. "Out in the countryside." Like Deering, the otters commuted via shuttle-bus to work. "He'll be wantin' a meal out o' me when I get back," the otter said, putting a paw to her breast again. "Come to think of it, so will Ori." A wink and a chirp.
"You here alone, Aud?" Daisy asked the mouse, trying not to indulge the overly-playful otter. Trying to ignore her. Trying to hold back a smile.
"No, uh ... well, I wasn't," she said, looking around, pink nose sniffing some more. With this many individuals in the room, with this much noise, this many scents, et cetera, it was all 'mousey motions' all the time from her. It was sending her brain on overload. "I was, uh ... " She got distracted for a moment, and then blinked. " ... with Deering. He seems to have wandered off."
"Crowd prob'ly scared 'im. Bet he's on the roof," Rhine supplied.
"What makes you say that?"
"Saw a mouse go up that way. Bet it was him." She took another sip of her drink.
"I better go after him," Audra said, quietly. "You two stay out of trouble?"
"Our husbands are within eye-range," Daisy said. "The only trouble we'll be getting into is them."
"Heh ... more like the other way around!" Rhine chirped.
Which made Daisy giggle-chitter hysterically. And she asked, off the cuff of her head, "Hey, if you keep drinking like that and you breast feed your baby when you get home, won't that get him tipsy, too?"
Rhine paused, scrunching her muzzle, frowning. "Huh. Never thought o' that."
"Well, there's hours of this party left ... you're on water the rest of the night." The grey squirrel took the otter's glass. "Come on, let's go sit down and nibble on something."
Rhine nodded, shuffling after the squirrel, playfully batting at her luxurious, bushy tail, which arched proudly behind her.
Audra, meanwhile, sighed a bit. "I'm going after Deering," was all she said, mostly to herself. Sometimes, she got lost in crowds. She wasn't as fun as Rhine, and she wasn't as agile or agreeable as Daisy. Mouses weren't exactly social butterflies. We don't exactly stand out. Maybe that's a good thing, she told herself, wriggling through the chatting, fancy-dressed crowd, heading for the center stairwell. It's just that, sometimes, I feel like I'm not good enough.
A slight twitch.
Not good enough.
An underlying sense of guilt.
Submissiveness.
Gnawing anxiety.
And a shake of the head, trying not to think about it.
" ... there you are," was the soft, starry realization, emerging into the clear, slightly-chilly air.
Deering turned his head, big, dishy ears swiveling.
"Heard me coming?" Audra asked, sidling up next to him, letting out a breath.
"Your foot-paws, uh, scuffled a bit ... yeah," he whispered, with his soft, effeminate voice. "And your breathing. And other things."
"Can't sneak up on a mouse," she affirmed, nodding. "I should know." A smile and a deep breath through the nose. Deering was standing near the edge of the roof here, near the solid, four-foot railing. Leaning against it and peering out across the city, the capital of the both the planet ('Home-world') and the capital city of the Furry Federation, as well. "It's a nice view," she said. "I normally don't come up here at night, cause ... owls and stuff are always about a night. Afraid of running into one."
"In the countryside, it's coyotes. They roam about, an' they howl. Gangs of 'em."
"Yeah ... "
"The buildings are tall," the rural mouse said, giving an errant nod. "I keep cranin' my neck up."
"That they are, now that you mention it." More sniffy nose-breaths. "Don't really notice it, to be honest. The tallness of these things. I mean, I'm in the city every day. I live here. On some days, I don't even look at the skyline. It's just ... becomes a generic background. I just have more important things to look at. And it never changes," she added. "It's the same every day. It's almost ... I don't like the word, but it's almost boring."
"Well, maybe the light plays on it different," Deering suggested, trying to be positive. "Maybe it looks different in certain weathers."
"Light on metal isn't as soothing to look at ... as light on leaf, light on water, or light on fur. As for weather, you spend most of your time indoors in the city. So, the weather isn't really a factor."
"I can't argue with that," Deering said, nodding in agreement. And sighing through the nose. His whiskers twitch-twitched, and his tail snaked behind him, like a fishing line moving through the air, fishing for invisible things.
"Just saying: after a few weeks, a few months ... you'll stop looking up. And then, one day, some-fur will tell you, 'the buildings are tall,' and you'll blink and ... " She trailed, smiling weakly. "I just get out of touch with things. My environment. I'm so wrapped up in my work, and ... you know, maybe that's why I'm so alone. And maybe that, in turn, is why I'm afraid of the night." And before Deering could respond to that, she said, "You disappeared on me. And that ... well, I was worried."
Deering looked to her, biting his lip.
"Well, what I mean is ... of course, you're new here, and I didn't want you to get lost. To get," she corrected, with empathy, "flustered." A pause. "It's a lot of furs in there. Lot of sounds and scents."
"I got overwhelmed," Deering admitted, after a moment. Whispering. "I got, uh ... "
" ... scared."
He said nothing.
"I get that way, too. I've just learned to hide it. Or, uh ... well, mingling," she explained, changing the subject, paws gripping the cool, metal railing, "is, like ... well, an art."
"How?"
"Well, it just is. There's an art to all social discourse, to diplomacy. I mean, if you work for the government, as I do ... as you do, now, as well. You end up learning it pretty quickly."
Deering, fleshy, sensitive ears arching, only said, "I don't know 'bout the buildings. They're strangers to me. But I know I don't like the air."
"What?"
"The air. In the city. It ... smells like business an' bad food an' fake things, and ... " A trail, picking back up with, "At home, it smells earthy. Like fields an' trees an' creeks."
"I guess it would," was all she could think of to say. "I just don't belong to any particular environment. When you're born in space, you have no home. You're a nomad. You scurry from place to place on a ship, and when you get off ... you get a job where you're scurrying from room to room, arguing all day long, feeling like you're getting nothing done."
"I believe you must be getting' a lot done."
"Why would you think that?"
"Because you don't strike me as lazy. An' you don't strike me as some-fur who gives half an effort."
Her ears flushed a bit. "Deering ... "
" ... mm?" There was the sound of shuttle-pods and shuttle-buses taking off. And landing, as well. The nearby landing pad was busy at all times of the day, it seemed. Of course, it was the busiest pad on the planet, so that should've been no surprise. And, after a while, the dim engine noises became background. You almost accepted it. Almost.
" ... you, uh ... nothing. You look a little tired."
"I am." A twitch. "I don't know ... "
" ... it's alright."
"You said I'm s'posed to convince the security council ... "
" ... tomorrow. You don't have to worry about that tonight."
" ... convince them, though, that the Furry Federation should resume diplomatic relations with the snow rabbits."
"Yes ... " She tilted her head.
"Why should they listen to me?"
"Cause you work for me. With," she corrected, "me. That'll give you credibility. You'll be reading from my notes ... and, sooner or later, you'll come into your own. Anyway, mouses are gentle, innocent creatures. We're cute." A little smile. "That's our 'advantage,' remember? Mousey cuteness. Whether they like it or not, they'll be affected by it. It'll put them at ease, make them more receptive to what you're saying." A pause. "You gotta use your biology to your advantage around here. Alright?"
A bashful nod.
"So, yes, just be all cute and squeaky, and they'll be melting in your paws. Maybe not enough to agree with all the arguments I've mapped out for you, but ... "
" ... a lot of predators are immune to such charms," was all Deering said, as a matter of fact.
"Well, they're stubborn. But they're only half the furs around here. So, don't worry about that. As long as we can convince a majority, just over half ... then we're fine. That goes for pretty much any issue. A majority vote is needed to pass bills and such."
A bit of a whisker-twitch.
"But to amend what I just said, about using your biology to your advantage?"
"Yeah?"
"Just keep in mind that the predators do that, too. Only they're more ... well, they're looser about it. They open-breed, of course. And in a political forum, they trade sex for favors. I hate it. You know? I just ... that's spiritually wrong. But we can't stop them from doing it. A law against it would never pass because predators are half the Council, and they're not gonna vote for that."
"Not even one? All you'd need is one ... assuming all the prey voted for it."
"Deering, no predator's gonna vote for a law that means a lot less sex for them. It's just not gonna happen. They need to breed. As do we. They have their system of getting it ... and we have ours. Ours happens to be love and devotion. Theirs happens to be endless power plays and shows of dominance ... so, we just have to deal with it. Now, I'm warning you because it's been known to happen ... " She trailed a bit, sighing, picking back up with, " ... it's not unusual for predators to force themselves on prey."
"They do that everywhere, though. Not just here." There was an eerie sense of knowing in his voice.
And it threw Audra off-guard for a moment. She blinked, proceeding slowly, "I know, but ... I didn't mean to imply you didn't know about predators. I just want you to know that, in this facility, in the capital ... it goes on more than anyone on the outside would think." A pause. "And the prey, after the fact, are usually so scared and ashamed that they refuse to press charges. They simply do what they're told. So, the predators get away with it. That's not to say that all of them do that. Just a small number, but ... it happens," the field mouse whispered. "I just wanted to warn you. So you can stay aware."
"Thank you," Deering whispered, barely audible, voice wispy, airy. And a bit nervous. More than a bit. His ears had gone rosy-pink, and his paws were gripping the railing extra-tight. He swallowed, shaking his head, deliberately changing the subject. " ... um ... oh, uh, earlier? I wanted to tell you: I saw a snow rabbit. In the dining hall."
"You did?" A blink.
A nod.
"Oh ... well, I mean, I'd talked to them ... the High Command, I mean. Via sub-space comm. A few weeks ago. I'd indicated I was gonna spearhead a motion to resume relations between our two governments. I mean, that's why I'm in charge of this, cause I'm a mouse. If a predator approached them, they'd tune him out, but ... everyone will listen to a mouse," Audra said. "Anyway, they said they would consider sending a representative to discuss it in person, as a gesture of preliminary cooperation." A pause. And a small smile. "You'll find, in this line of work, that words and sentences are often decorated to sound more important than they are."
"Yeah ... well, uh, so do I need to find the snow rabbit?"
"I'll check into it. I'll find out," she assured, "what the deal is, and if he is a representative for the High Command, I'll have him attend the briefing with you. But he might just be a straggler."
"Straggler?"
"When our governments used to be on friendly terms, we had Federation ships and such in their space. They had snow rabbits in ours. When things went down, some got trapped behind 'enemy' lines or just ... you know, chose to stay. Of course, it was mostly our ships and furs that chose to stay. Luminous, Solstice, Illustrious ... and half the furs on Arctic and Yellowknife. They 'defected,' you could say. We only recently got their 'banishment' repealed. They can all come back, now, but ... so far, none of them have. They prefer being part of the High Command."
Deering nodded. He was partly aware of such things, cause of the news and such.
"That whole thing was a mess. The conflict between us and them. It was ... " A sigh. " ... when they found humans-turned-furs on the Council? There was a panic."
"I know," was all Deering said.
"Sorry, it's ... I know you live on Home-world, but it's ... I know the whole Federation was in a panic. I don't mean to patronize you. It's just, here in the capital? It was worse," she whispered. "I was actually an officer. A commander on a ship. But when the civil war ended and the government was toppled and the provisional government," she said, taking a breath, "was put into place? I was asked to represent my species. So, that's what I'm doing."
"You're a commander?"
"Mm-hmm." A slight smile. "Still have the rank. Just ... not using it," was all she said.
"Well, I, uh ... hope I can do as well as you."
A smile. "I don't know how well I've done, actually, but ... you'll do fine," she assured, her smile fading. And a pause, staring out at the buildings. A sigh. "I just feel that most of my time is spent on predator/prey squabbles. You know? And I hate to say this, cause I never like admitting when I'm wrong, but ... sometimes, I treat them unfairly. As unfairly as they treat me, I can dish it right back. I can lump them all into a stereotypical group and assume they're all this, all that. I can put blinders on with the best of them." Her whiskers twitched, and she whispered, "I just pray that ... you know, for wisdom. For understanding. I do my best. But the problem isn't social or economical or ... at its root, the tension between predators and prey is instinctual. It's built into us. Hard-wired. And that makes it a whole other thing," she whispered, muzzle scrunching.
Deering nodded quietly.
"Can I ask you a question?" Her posture relaxed a bit.
"Mm?"
"Are you always this ... reserved?"
"Reserved?"
"So withdrawn and serious. Like, you seem to be holding yourself back. I don't think I've seen you smile yet," she breathed. "Not even once. It's like you're afraid to let your emotions out." A pause. "But I know that mouses are very emotional creatures. You hold things in, and it's gonna mess you up. I don't need to tell you that, I guess, but ... you know, I hope this isn't coming out wrong ... "
Deering gave no response to any of this.
" ... I mean, like I said earlier? I understand. I know how it feels. I feel the same things. And I'm not saying you're cold or unfriendly. Don't get me wrong on that. But you just seem," she whispered, almost stumbling over her words, "like you're scared to let me know you?" It came out as a question. A breath. "Why?" she pressed.
The deer mouse licked his dry lips and gave a weak whisker-twitch, eyes darting away. He fiddled with his tail, paws holding it nervously.
Audra waited.
But he gave no immediate explanation.
"Well," she eventually whispered, breaking the verbal silence. "Obviously, someone hurt you ... very badly, I think. Probably hurt your heart."
A twitch, which betrayed the truth in her deduction.
"Maybe you gave your heart to someone and they dropped it in the dirt." A pause. "Who was it? What happened?"
"You don't wanna know," the mouse said, looking away from her. Looking to the buildings. His eyes watery. "I, uh, was in the wrong ... " His words came out in staccato fashion. " ... wrong place, wrong time. It's ... just, y'know, an' she was stronger than me, an' I was just ... "
"You were raped," Audra guessed, almost flinching as she said the word. "Oh ... I'm, uh ... oh, gosh. And here I was lecturing you on the danger of predators. When you were keenly aware," the field mouse breathed. She swallowed, feeling a bit awkward. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."
"Not your fault for not knowin' ... I wasn't gonna tell ya." A pause. "I don't know. It's not somethin' I tell anyone."
"What species was she?"
"Hawk ... she, uh, was a hawk."
"It happened more than once, didn't it?" Audra guessed.
A severe twitch. "I was scared. I ... she told me she'd hunt me down if I scurried off. That she'd kill me. She made me bleed with her talons t'know she meant it." A twitch, eyes darting. Breath shallow. " ... after a week, she flew to somewhere else." He shook his head. "I was mindin' my own business in the fields, and ... I was alone out there, and I couldn't get away. When it first happened," he explained. "An' ... "
"Deering ... "
" ... it's my fault," he whispered, with self-loathing in his tone.
"No. Hey ... "
" ... I don't want God to be mad at me. I didn't want it t'happen. I just feel like my heart got dropped in the dirt."
"Hey ... " A little shush-sound. "She took advantage of you. She used her strength and power of fear to ... " A sigh. " ... I don't know how that must've felt. I can't imagine. But it's not your fault, okay? And I know it's small consolation, but predators take advantage of prey all the time. You're not alone ... "
Deering twitched, eyes closed.
" ... you understand?" Audra asked, very quietly, her paws on his shoulders. "Hmm?" was her soft, little sound. "It's alright ... "
Deering shook his head, sniffling.
" ... yes, it is. It is alright," she assured, arms slipping around, around. So that she was hugging him from behind, nose on the nape of his furry, butter-tan neck. "It's alright. I've had things happen to me ... you know, dark things. Some of them I couldn't stop from happening. Others? Some of them were brought on by my own mistakes." A breath. "You have faith, yeah?" she whispered, close to one of his fleshy earlobes.
A sniffle and a nod, and a shaky swallow.
"Well, you're redeemed. You can go in peace," she breathed, "for your faith has set you free."
"I ... I know. And I believe that, and ... " A small, squeaky cry. "I know that. I know Christ forgave me, but I can't forgive myself. And I don't know," he whispered, "why."
" ... you don't need to think about that," was all Audra said, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply. Slowly. "You've a nice scent about you," she whispered. "You're a nice mouse. I know we've not known each other long, but I can tell that much: that you're a very nice mouse."
A sniffle and a squeak.
Little hush-sounds from her, breathing onto his neck. "It's alright," she said, once more, holding to him. "Calm down ... "
Slowly, Deering began to relax.
"You feel a bit better?"
A little nod.
"When's the last you were hugged?" Audra asked, opening her eyes. "Mm?"
"I, uh ... I don't remember," he replied, honestly. He didn't know. It had been so long ago.
"Well, you know what?" the field mouse told him, smiling warmly. "You've just been hugged. So, the last time you were hugged ... was just right now."
He had to smile at this.
"There ... there it is," she said. "See, I knew you could smile. And it's a very handsome one, at that." She smiled back at him, shuffling to the front of him, now, muzzle close to his. "I have the strongest desire to kiss you, but ... "
" ... but?" His tail shyly snaked.
" ... but if I kiss you alone on the roof at night with the skyline right there? We may end up doing more than kissing." A pause, and a little smile. "In other words: the moment's too romantic. I'd get swept away. And it's not time for that." A pause. "Not yet," she added. Furs tended to hook-up and mate rather quickly. Furry relationships coalesced in fast fashion. But, still, Audra felt it would be prudent to wait a bit. Just calm down. You're both feeling vulnerable right now. You gotta be totally sure. "We should go inside. Back to the party." Her arms loosened, and she stepped away from him, taking a deep, flushed breath.
"Okay," was his one-word whisper, licking his dry lips. "Audra ... "
" ... yes?" She stopped, looking to him, eyes wide in building-lit darkness.
" ... thank you. For making me feel so welcome today."
A soft smile. "It's no problem." A pause, the smile softening into a sincere, yearning gaze. "Just so you know? I have good paws. I would never allow your heart," she whispered, "to get dropped in the dirt. I would hold it close to me." And she paused for a moment, and then padded off, back for the stairwell.
And, Deering, after a moment of twitching quiet, padded after her.
"See that snow rabbit over there?" Sylvan said, voice lowered, posture casual. His paws picking things from the buffet table, putting them on his clear, glassy plate. He was stocking up on little chunks of meat with toothpicks in them, as well as some sweeter, sugary things. His tan fur was smooth, soft, and warm.
"What of him?" Astrid, the jaguar, asked. She was the other feline representative on the Federation Council. And though she and Sylvan occasionally bred with one another, they shared no deep affection.
"He's an ambassador. The Council is going to put forth a measure, sponsored by the prey," the cougar said, with a light growl, "to resume relations with the High Command."
"The measure will pass. We need all the allies we can get, being that we currently have none. We can't rebuild our society on our own," Astrid replied smartly, her orange-hued fur ripe with black spots and marks, as well as fringes of white here and there. She looked entirely exotic. Alluring. Powerful. "And a relationship with the High Command would give us added security, trade, economic benefits ... "
" ... yes, it's a good idea. We do need them," Sylvan finished, cutting her off. "But the prey would have us on all fours, apologizing, crawling to them. Submissive. Seeking 'forgiveness' for our 'transgressions.' I refuse to apologize for anything. After all, did we do anything wrong?"
"They claim that ... "
" ... I don't care about their claims." The cougar waved a strong, tawny paw. "We put our own survival first. That's what any society does when push comes to shove. How can we be blamed for that?" He showed his teeth. "I want you to 'knead' the good ambassador ... and make him more receptive to giving the High Command the predators' suggestions, our suggestions," he emphasized, "on any treaty that's to be drafted. I want the snow rabbits as allies. But only on our," he whispered, "terms. I won't be subservient to the likes of them ... after what they did to the Arctic foxes?"
"As I recall, they ended up saving the species from extinction when the wasps destroyed the foxes' sun."
The cougar made a dismissive face. "Yes, but only after they slaughtered the foxes into surrendering ... during their glorified border skirmish. That full-blown cold war of theirs."
"Forgive me, Sylvan, for bringing logic into this discussion, but as felines, we can hardly scold any species for use of violence. Especially in the realms of self-defense. I've seen what you can do," she whispered. "And what you did certainly wasn't self-defense." She'd been there when Audra's ex-colleague had been turned into a meal. She'd heard the sounds, felt the combination of fear and lust. She'd been in the room. Smelling that. The muscle. The blood. For some reason, though, her stomach had become upset. Of course, she couldn't have admitted that to her fellow predators. So, she'd simply used the excuse of 'guarding the grounds,' staying at a semi-distance, ensuring they weren't discovered. She hadn't tasted a single sinew of the kill.
"It didn't have to be self-defense. It was self-interest. We were, if I may correct you, being threatened. He was nosing into our business. And hunting," the cougar said, simply, "is our birthright. Our bodies are designed to kill. Are we to ignore that? Sanitize it? Pretend it's not so? Pretend our teeth and claws aren't built for ripping into fur and flesh? Prey are biologically inferior. They're here for our sustenance, be that culinary ... or sexual. Or whatever else. I'm not ashamed of that. It's nature's design. It's the order of things. Did nature intend for us to distinguish between feral and sentient prey? Or did society? Who should we listen to more?" The question was somewhat rhetorical, even though Sylvan had an answer. "Society is here to follow nature. Not the other way around."
Astrid just tilted her head, giving a nod of acknowledgment. "I meant no disrespect," she whispered. "Or discord. I was simply saying ... that we need the snow rabbits."
"And I told you I agree. I just happen to dislike them as a species. You, on the other paw ... have a fascination with them."
"They have reputations," Astrid breathed, nodding, suddenly purring, "as excellent breeders."
A grin. "I know. Which is why I've told you to go 'knead' that snow rabbit. I'm ordering you to have sex with him. Surely, that deserves a little 'thank you'?"
A sultry purr on her part, the tension between the two of them melting away. Temporarily. "Thank you, Sylvan. What would I do without your ... " She put a paw under his chin, lifting his head, looking into his golden, narrowed eyes. " ... your generosity?"
"I hesitate to think," was his response, pulling his head away from her paw, lowering it. And taking a deep, calculated breath.
Astrid, giving a light sigh, reached over the buffet table, grabbing a piece of cake, tearing off little bits and popping them into her muzzle. Her scratchy, pink tongue licked the crumbs off her lips and whiskers. "So, I'm to sex him up ... in exchange for him giving predators the credit for our governments' renewed friendship?"
"Yes." A simple, inches-away look. "And when the treaty is renewed, all the publicity will focus on how 'fair' the predators are. How 'eager' we are for universal peace." A smile. "Should get the prey in the general public off our backs. At least for a few months. And without them harping on us, we might, for a change, successfully shove a few key pieces of our agenda ... down the throat of this esteemed Council here." He looked around, eyes probing, analyzing.
Astrid, angular ears cocked, just listened and chewed on more cake. And swallowed. "What if he resists?"
"He's a snow rabbit," was Sylvan's response, looking back to his colleague. "As you said: they have reputations."
"They do. But they've also been infected with religion. Faith. Apparently, all those bloody wars, along with giving them power over the quadrant ... "
" ... don't remind me of that," Sylvan muttered, under his breath. He hated knowing that the snow rabbits and their 'High Command' were the sole 'superpower' of the quadrant. The Furry Federation had been equally, if not more, powerful. But, now, no one was a match for the snow rabbits. But, the cougar told himself, tides change. Just be patient.
"Again, my apologies," Astrid said, nodding at the cougar, continuing, " ... but recent events gave them a need for spirituality, as well."
"I am aware of that," the cougar replied. "But Christian snow rabbits are still a minority. The majority of them? Well, they're still rabbits, even if they're icicles. I'm betting he'll do anything," Sylvan assured, looking the jaguar over, "to get into you."
"It has been my experience," Astrid replied, silkily, "that you would, as well."
"I think you are mistaken."
"Am I?"
"We both know, Astrid, that I've never had to pry your legs apart. They seem to open ... on their own."
"And as long as we're feeding each other's interests, they'll continue to do so. We are both felines. We share a bond. But if you ever cross me ... "
" ... my dear, if I ever crossed you?" he told her, with veiled danger. "You wouldn't have time to react. But not to worry," he added, suavely, "for, as you said, we're both felines. My collective species comes first. We're not enemies."
"Not enemies, no. But you like being in control. You like power. You're a male cat, and you operate, in the very end, for yourself."
"Most predators do."
"Granted. And that is why I have a suspicion that, were it to benefit you? That I'd get the shove. I worked very hard to get here. I didn't inherit or win my position on the Council like so many other furs ... I worked," she repeated, "to get here. And I won't have you tossing me out."
"My dear," Sylvan repeated, purring enigmatically, looking her over like she was a delicious meal. "My dear, you do excite me. Now, go ... deal with the snow rabbit. You're always hissing that I don't give you good assignments ... should be a good one for you," he whispered.
"Indeed." A breath. "And who will you be 'dealing' with, pray tell?"
No response. Just a purr, and a repeated, "Go. Before he leaves the hall."
Astrid squinted, and then gave a toothy, purring grin, grabbing some alcohol glasses off the table. "Very well ... "
It was a minute later.
"You stand out, you know, in a crowd."
The snow rabbit blinked, raising a brow and twiddling his tall, slender ears. The white-furred ears with the pink interiors and charcoal tips.
"Must be the way your pelt reflects the light."
"Pardon me?" Russo, the snow rabbit, raised a brow.
"It was a compliment," the jaguar said, wearing a pretty, jet-black dress, which accentuated her many spots. Her supple breasts were brought to the fore, as well. A bit of cleavage there.
"I see. And why was it given?"
"Do I need a reason?" was the sensual, flirting purr.
"Yes."
A slight scrunch of her muzzle. And a sigh. "You're an ambassador? For the High Command?"
"Yes," he responded again, with that cool, logical tone. Emotions frozen over. Repressed. Held back by nature for his own safety. A snow rabbit's emotions were too raw and feral to be allowed to surface. So, a psychological barrier had been erected. Thousands of years ago. They'd been this way for as long as any-fur could remember. Bits of emotion could seep through, though, like leaking water. Like steam. Steam, especially, was released when they bred. That was the only time they could truly express themselves.
"Well, I'm here to greet you. To make sure," the feline explained, with a knowing smile, "you enjoy your stay. You just got here, correct?"
"My runabout arrived this morning."
"Good ... "
Russo took a breath, eying her paws. "You have drinks," he noted, observationally.
"Strong stuff. The best kind. Not that fruity, flavored prey stuff. I figured a cold-born type like yourself ... would enjoy something with a bite." She handed him a glass, keeping the other for herself. "I've had snow rabbit alcohol before, but not recently. Ever since our governments stopped being friendly ... well, it's been hard to import."
"That does make sense," he said, simply, taking a proper, civil sip. A head-tilt, giving a light nod of approval. And saying, calmly, "You were sent over to seduce me?"
"What?" A blink.
"Snow rabbits are sex experts. I know when I'm being seduced," he said, matter-of-factly. "You are also salivating quite heavily."
"I'm not drooling," was the scowling defense. But she wiped her muzzle with her free paw, anyway. And, then, "Sex experts? Isn't that rather arrogant?"
"No one who has bred with a snow rabbit ... " A restrained eye-smile. " ... would doubt the veracity of the statement. And felines are known for their arrogance. You can hardly accuse me of harboring such a thing."
"Mm ... " A big gulp of her drink, ignoring the comment about arrogance and responding, again, to the 'sex expert' part. "I've been with species far more interesting and better-endowed than yours."
"Very well," was all Russo said, not taking her bait.
And, by this point, the jaguar was itching to breed. There was something about snow rabbits that, in her cruder moments, she could describe as nothing less than 'fucking hot.' "Mm ... so, what's your name?" she purred, grinning, temperature rising.
"Russo." His bobtail flicker-flicked like a holy-white flame.
"Mm. I'm Astrid." Her own tail swayed about as if on the universe's best-oiled motor. A shuffle, sipping her drink. The glass empty, she set it on the nearest table. "How 'bout we engage in some ... inter-species studies?" She showed her teeth, nose so close to his body. She could sniff his scent, and she liked it. Oh, good grief, she liked it. Her paw-pads were literally getting sweaty at the thoughts she was having. Her nipples were getting hard in her bra, and ...
" ... interspecies studies?" He raised a brow, somewhat amused. "I believe I will have to decline."
"What?" the jaguar snapped, blinking, her fantasies rudely popped. "Why?"
"I do not know you."
"I'm clean," she breathed, privately, "if that's what you're worried about."
"So, I am to trust a horny jaguar who I've never met and know nothing about ... when she tells me she is 'clean?' That would be most illogical. I am not willing to risk my health based on your 'word'."
A light growl. "Wanna go to the nearest infirmary? You can scan me."
"That is not the point. Whether or not you are physically clean," Russo said, calmly, "is one thing. Spiritually clean? Is another. If my soul is to imprint on another ... I don't wish it to become contaminated. I want to remain pure."
"So, you're one of 'them' ... "
" ... if, by 'them,' you mean a Christian, then ... "
" ... so, I'm going to Hell, then? Is that what you're telling me?" she demanded, flushed with anger.
"You are putting words," he whispered, not losing his cool, "in my muzzle."
"You religious types always have a million rules for breeding. A million rules for everything."
"And that bothers you," he asked, "why?"
"Because you ... you force them on ... "
" ... who? I have not forced anything upon you. You hinted at sex, and I declined. How is that forcing anything upon you?"
"It's ... " A low, frustrated growl. "It's gonna force me to use my paw tonight, and the thought makes me very," she said, showing her teeth, "unhappy."
"I'm sure you could bed any male predator in the room. There seem to be plenty to choose from," he responded. "Why come after me, a frozen-over piece of prey?"
"Because I don't want them. I want you."
"Why?" he pressed again.
"Just ... " She blew out a hot, hazy breath, shaking her head and looking away. "Forget I asked. Forget any of this happened." She burned with embarrassment. And had to add, as way of explanation, "Males don't say no to me." She looked him in the eye. "They don't turn me down."
"I just did."
A light growl. "I know," she emphasized.
"I believe you are worth far more than you are selling yourself for," Russo said sincerely, looking her over, and then meeting her gaze again. "Perhaps you will soon see that. And when you do? You may come to me."
"And then we'll ... "
" ... get to know each other."
"I'm not gonna get suckered into a relationship with you. I'm a Federation council-fur."
"And I am an ambassador of the High Command. You cannot pull rank or title with me. You do not intimidate me in the least. I have fought, in paw-to-paw combat, Arctic foxes and wasps ... in the case of the wasps, it was paw-to-stinger. After surviving that, after being healed, after seeing what God has done in my life, I can assure you: your moody, faith-less quibbles, and the yearnings of your twenty-something sex life ... are rather shallow waters to wade in."
Astrid clenched her jaw. Feeling, not for the first time since she'd padded over here, that she was being insulted. And yet she wasn't able to turn away. Wasn't able to leave. She remained where she was and said, "I just wanna breed with a snow rabbit. That's all. I'm not gonna change my life just to get a piece of you."
" ... if I were to give myself to someone, I would not give pieces. I would give the whole thing."
"Doesn't matter. You're sneaky, I'll grant you that. You and your ... logic. You're prey, and yet you've managed to take complete control of this conversation." A little, toothy grin. "Very clever."
"It was not that difficult."
Her claws extended from their pads. And then went back in. And she breathed, "I find you incredibly irresistible."
"Thank you," he said, with an eye-smile, sipping at the drink she'd given him.
"I can't go back into the crowd. My colleague sent me over here to seduce you into ... "
" ... promoting a predatory agenda in the language of the new treaty? Assuming, of course, that a new treaty gets drafted?"
A slight nod. "Something like that." A pause. "If I go back, he'll know I've failed, and he'll use that against me ... if I don't come back, he'll assume I've gone and slept with you. I can lie about it in the morning, and he'll assign me another task."
"Do you ever get caught in the web of lies you weave?"
"Not yet. I have claws," she reminded, "to cut my way out."
"I see."
A huff from her.
"I will sit at a table and talk with you. I have nothing on my schedule for tonight, and the hour is still early enough. I have been meaning to try the carrot cake. It smells most delicious."
Astrid hesitated, looking around. Making sure Sylvan wasn't watching her. She felt a strange feeling, and she couldn't pinpoint what it was. It wasn't lust. It was ... something else. A yearning to know more about this snow rabbit. She wanted to talk to him. She wanted to spend time with him. Time in bed, of course. But, also, time doing other things. Russo simply intrigued her. And if she couldn't sate her breeding drive, she could at least sate her curiosity.
"There is an empty table over here," Russo gestured, with a snowy-white paw.
"I will need to 'deal' with myself in an hour. We may talk," Astrid said, gracefully taking a seat, "for that amount of time. But, then, I must leave."
"I understand. I will have to do so, as well."
"With your paw?" she asked, noticing he didn't have a ring. If he didn't have a ring and he didn't open-breed ...
" ... with my paw, yes. The thought of using a simulation room had occurred to me, but I'm still new here. I don't know my way around the governmental compound."
"I'll have to give you a tour," Astrid said, almost quietly.
An eye-smile. "I could use one." A pause. "Astrid. That is a pretty name. How did you get it?" he asked.
The jaguar squinted, hesitating. Looking around again, almost paranoid. And, sighing, she explained. She talked. She conversed.
And, though it unnerved her greatly, she actually enjoyed it.