Hope
Food for the Starved

“Hello baby,” I coo, lifting the little alien from his crib.

He’d been crying, his loud wailing reaching the bottom of the stairs. I wasn’t sure where anyone else was, so I decided to go up and see what was making him so upset. It is my job, after all.

“Are you hungry?” I whisper, bouncing him in my arms a little when his lip begins to wobble.

“Are you hungry, Charlie?”

“Yes, Daddy!”

Big, wet eyes stare up at me, irises swirling like the galaxy painted above him. He blinks, tears sticking to his eyelashes as he wriggles in my arms, little hands bunching in my shirt.

He’s so little, it’s hard to see him as anything other than a small oddly coloured human baby.

“Let’s go find, Caster. I’ve heard he’s the man to ask about snacks,” I say, gently tickling his belly.

He seems to hang onto every word I say, his big eyes inspecting every inch of my face. I smile at him, which encourages Lavere to return it with a gummy version of his own.

I wonder what aliens eat. Can they eat human food? Or can they only eat food from their native planet? I suppose they would be able to eat Earth food, otherwise there’d really be no point in coming here in the first place.

“Caster?” I call as we make our way down the stairs, hoping the alien might be around somewhere.

I hear no reply, and so I continue to walk through the house, heading towards the kitchen.

“Caster are you in here?” I push the swinging door leading into the back kitchen open, peering around the corner.

A large u-shaped steel table wraps around the room, paired with a matching industrial fridge. Pots hang from a rack on the ceiling, and a large window lets in the natural sun light.

“Caster?” I call again, peering around the empty room.

The refrigerator pops open with a hiss and Caster walks out with a large contained as big as his torso.

“Yes human?” He smiles, dropping the container on the metal bench.

He grins when he notices the baby alien in my arms, small chirping sounds escaping from his lips.

“Lavere!” Caster squeals.

Whatever he says afterwards is lost on me, the language too difficult to understand. Lavere seems to understand it, his own bubbling baby noises accompanying his.

“Uh, Aliston said to come to you for food,” I say awkwardly, watching the two aliens chat to each other in gibberish.

“Yes, yes. Lavere will eat fruit.” Caster smiles, wandering off towards the front kitchen.

I follow him through the swinging door, shifting Lavere on my hip. I know that Aliston said Lavere had food in the big metal fridge in the front kitchen, but it feels wrong to go through their stuff without at least asking first. Besides, I don’t know where any of Lavere’s cutlery is.

Caster hums as he pulls the fridge open, taking out a little silver sphere. He points at the kitchen island, glancing up at me to make sure I’m watching him as he slides his hands across it and pushes against what I thought was marble.

A drawer pops out, spoons, knives, and forks sitting in their respective compartments.

“Spoon in drawer.” Caster points, taking one out before bumping the drawer closed with his hip.

“I didn’t know drawers could pop out like that.”

Caster frowns, “Didn’t know drawer opens?”

Right. Caster’s probably never seen an old drawer with squeaky hinges and a wooden knob. These pop out drawers are probably the alien equivalent the old human wooden drawers.

“Um, yeah?” How am I supposed to explain something that he’s probably never seen?

He shakes his head at me, looking rather confused. Placing the little sphere of food and the spoon on the table, Caster’s quick to run back into the back kitchen, obviously busy with whatever it is he was carrying before.

I look around the kitchen, not spotting any kind of highchair or baby seat. There are only white barstools by the kitchen island. Do aliens have baby highchairs? Shrugging to myself, I hop up onto the barstool and place Lavere in my lap.

He gurgles as I pick up the spoon and the cylinder, watching as I try to unscrew the little capsule.

“Daddy’s got you some bread, Charlie. Eat up.” I smile to the little boy sitting in my lap, his chubby face split into a grin as he mouths a piece of bread, drool dripping down his chin.

Finally opening the container, I scrunch my nose up at the purple slime that sits inside. It doesn’t smell too bad, but it looks as if there are chunks of glitter in it.

“Yum?” I coo at Lavere, who kicks his tiny legs as he sits perched in my lap.

Stirring the goo, I can’t help the grimace on my face as it sticks to the spoon, stretching like elastic as I scoop a mouthful up for the little baby.

He eagerly opens his mouth, little coos rumbling in his chest as he happily munches on the stuff. I don’t dare taste it, no matter how much Lavere seems to like it. What if alien food is dangerous for humans? No one’s told me otherwise, so I think it’s best to keep all alien substances away from my mouth for the time being.

I’ll find some thing else to eat later.

“Daddy? What about you? You didn’t eat any.” The little boy says, a pout on his lips as he holds the last bit of bread in between his fingers.

“It’s okay, baby. I found that piece for you. I’ll find something else to eat later.”

Finishing another mouthful, I carefully use the spoon to catch the slime slipping from Lavere’s lips, scooping it back into his mouth as he happily swings his little legs, big eyes trained on the cylinder in my hands.

“So, you must be the new human.”

I jump at the voice, clutching Laver closer to my body as I slide from the stool. Stepping back, I move away from the alien in front of me, making sure there’s a safe distance between Lavere and him.

“Who’re you?” I fire back, placing Lavere back on my hip.

“I’m Avørek. Aliston’s son. So, who’re you?” He stands by the stairs, long white hair draped down his shoulders in ribbons of silk.

Thin blue-grey arms are littered with silver bracelets, his fingers decorated in similar silver rings. How I didn’t hear the jewellery as he approached, I don’t know.

He’s dressed in a similar fashion to Caster, sheer sleeves cinched at his forearms. He looks like he’s wearing the finest of fabrics, much like his father. Although his eyes catch my attention the most. They’re the same swirling galaxy I see in Lavere’s.

“I’m the new human,” I say, repeating what he said only a second ago.

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I know that. What’s your name?”

His words are sharp, and a lot more fluid than Caster or Aliston’s. He seems to have grasped English much better than the rest of the household.

“My name’s Emery.”

He raises a perfectly sculpted brow, stepping closer with a gliding walk. He stares me down as he does so, and I begin to feel a little nervous as he barely even blinks.

“You’re the one who’s going to be taking care of my baby brother.”

It’s not a question. Rather, it seems more like a threat as he steps into my personal space.

“Well, yeah,” I mumble.

Avørek hums low in his throat, the noise catching the attention of little Lavere.

“I thought my father wanted a woman.”

Again, with the gender stereotype.

“I know. I think I was the only one available to take the job.”

His face gets too close for comfort, his breath tickling my face as a smirk grows on his lips. He moves away, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You do sound like a girl.”

“Excuse me?” I bulk at his words, offended.

“Your voice. It’s very,” He purses his lips, “feminine, for a human.”

Is he being serious? I can’t help it as I clear my throat, very conscious of the way I speak now that it’s been pointed out.

“Are you always this rude?” I sniff, scowling at him.

He ignores me, letting his eyes drop to the baby in my arms who’s been trying to gain the older alien’s attention this whole time with little babbling noises.

Avørek hums low in his chest once again as he reaches out to run his fingers down Lavere’s cheek. The baby squeals in delight at the attention, smacking his hand on my chest as he wobbles precariously in my arms.

Without warning, Avørek takes a hold of Lavere, lifting him from my arms and into his own. Lavere seems to love this, if his snuggling into the older alien’s chest is anything to go by.

“You should unpack and clean yourself up. We can’t have you tracking filth through the house,” he snarls.

Open mouthed, I watch in shock as he glides away with my charge, happily entertaining the little baby who just can’t seem to get enough of his older brother, the purple goo snack long forgotten.

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