Chapter Text
With the sun still high in the sky, and spirits uplifted with Voltron’s most recently victory, a celebratory atmosphere descends on Pinnella Pass, a town in a vibrantly green, fertile valley in the largest continent on the planet Kicadus.
Keith drops himself down on a bench and stretches his legs out in front of him.
The town elder sits at a cafe table with Coran, deep in discussion about what might be the absolutely most complicated board game that has ever existed and will ever exist. Lance and Allura, on the other side of the town square, are covered in excited children who want to hear all about the Castle and the Lions, with the paladins themselves as a bit of an afterthought. Pidge and Hunk are working with local scientists on fixing the water filtration system that the Galra destroyed.
And Shiro...
Keith scowls and crosses his arms, sinking into a slouch on the bench he’s claimed as his own.
Since they arrived here, nearly the entire time that they've been planetside, Shiro’s every waking moment has been thoroughly co-opted by the elder’s son, Derdryn. The guy won’t stop touching Shiro, and Shiro is too damn polite to tell him ‘hands off’. Derdryn’s half a head or so shorter than Shiro, and has this pointy chin and these big blue eyes and this mop of shoulder-length hair that’s such a deep shade of violet it’s almost black. He smiles at Shiro all the time, and laughs when Shiro tells a joke, and thinks Shiro’s ideas are all fantastic, and makes calf eyes at Shiro, and flutters his eyelashes at Shiro, and calls Shiro “Shiro” which should probably not be annoying, but it is.
Keith doesn’t like the guy one bit.
He won’t leave Shiro alone. He keeps asking him questions and making demands of his time. What is your home like? Would you tell me more about your Lion? I’ve never left the valley, what is it like to travel amongst the stars? Will you do me the honour of sparring with me?
These aliens are some of the most human-like they’ve met, and an unsettling, uncanny valley thing happens in Keith’s brain every time he looks at Derdryn in particular. They’re far less human-like than Allura and Coran, but more so than a lot of the other species they’ve met. They do have a four-fingers-plus-thumb situation happening, but their skin comes in shades of orange and red and pink, and their hair floats as if they’re underwater. Then there’s the tails. And the horns, ranging from little nubs to full-on curling ram’s horns. The entire rainbow of colours their eyes and hair come in. The way some of them have black sclera.
But they’re very human, and the way that this guy looks at Shiro is...
Well.
Extremely human.
Keith watches as Derdryn approaches Shiro and places one hand on Shiro’s back, and then the two of them start to walk away. Immediately, Keith stands to tail them—no, follow, just very ordinary following—but then he feels a tug at his hand and looks down.
A little girl looks up at him in turn, solemn, with her chin quivering. She has skin of the softest orange, and her hair is bright aqua and very long, floating wildly all around her, and her eyes are a bright lemon yellow. They’re also filled with tears.
“Mister Paladin?” she says, tremulously.
Keith watches Shiro and that guy walk away, then crouches down in front of her, ‘cause that’s what Lance does when he talks to kids, and the kids seem to like it when the grown ups—or perceived grown ups, in Lance’s case—get down on their level instead of looming over them. “Keith,” he says. “What’s your name?”
“Ghiri,” she says.
“Hi, Ghiri. What’s the matter?”
“My frilar climbed a tree and won’t come down and you’re a hero and heroes help people and frilars,” she says.
This isn’t logic Keith could ever hope to argue with. He stands up. “Can you show me?” he asks.
She reaches up and takes his hand unprompted, and leads him to the edge of the town square, where there’s a large tree with pink and green polka-dot leaves, several apple-like fruits hanging from its highest branches, and one large, blue frilar hanging by its tail, fast asleep.
Frilar are not unlike large chinchillas with prehensile tails and seem to come in two very distinct personalities: sweet and living only for cuddles, and mischievous and living only for chaos. Their legs are longer than an actual chinchilla’s, and their ears don’t protrude at all, but their fur is just as soft.
Hunk can’t seem to stop rubbing his face against any that come near him. They are going to be lucky if they leave here without at least one mysteriously on board.
“All right,” Keith says, “stand back. This is dangerous work.”
“It’s just a tree,” Ghiri said.
All right, no sense of adventure or whimsy in this one. Either that, or Keith is just bad at whimsy—that’s definitely not out of the question. Yeah, it’s probably that.
But at least he can climb. So climb he does, making short work of it. The branch seems sturdy enough, and e carefully inches his way along it to the sleeping creature.
Naturally, it actually isn’t at all sturdy. As soon as Keith has the frilar safe in his arms, the branch gives way.
Ghiri screams. Keith decides, on his way down, that children screaming like that is pretty awful.
He holds the frilar—miraculously still asleep, even snoring—against his chest, and manages to twist his body to land on his back, rather than squish the kid’s pet. The little girl runs over to him, sobbing big, sincerely distraught tears, and several others race over, too, including Shiro and Derdryn.
“Keith,” Shiro says, dropping to his knees beside him, “are you okay? Wait, don’t sit up yet—”
“I’m fine,” Keith says, through gritted teeth. He sits up, Shiro on one side of him, and Derdryn on the other with his stupid pointy chin and those huge eyes of his looking all concerned. Keith looks away, clenching his jaw.
“You might have a concussion,” Shiro says. “I should—”
“Don’t worry about me,” Keith says, twisting a little to try to get Derdryn’s hand off him under the pretense of handing the still fast asleep animal to Ghiri. She throws her arms around Keith’s neck instead, sobbing, and he lets out a little grunt because, okay, yeah, he’s at least a little bit hurt. He awkwardly pats her back, and she presses her pointy little nose against his cheek for a moment—a gesture of affection, maybe?—before she takes the animal (still sleeping) from him and steps back.
“You have my gratitude and appreciation,” she says, solemnly, nodding a little.
Keith nods back, wracking his brain to try to remember their version of ‘you’re welcome.’ He clenches to stifle his outrage as Derdryn murmurs in his ear, “It pleases me to have been of service.” He has a weird husky voice.
Keith doesn’t like it.
But he smiles—without teeth—and recites the words. Ghiri nods again and runs off.
“You are very kind, Keith,” Derdryn says. “The kindness of Voltron will always be spoken with reverence by our people.”
“Just happy to help,” Keith says, doing his best not to mutter, and letting Shiro help him up. Shiro’s hands rest on his shoulders, his (gorgeous) face of his full of concern.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Shiro asks.
Keith shrugs one shoulder and tries not to wince. “Not entirely,” he admits.
“We can—”
“Look, go celebrate,” Keith says. “I’ll head back to the Castle, get myself patched up, wash the dirt out of my hair, and I’ll be back for dinner.”
“If you’re sure,” Shiro says, frowning. Derdryn sidles up to him, an expression of concern on his (stupid) face.
“Yeah, don’t worry about me. Go. Have fun.”
“All right.” Shiro seems a bit reluctant, but then Derdryn takes him by the elbow and starts to lead him away.
After a few feet, Shiro glances back at Keith. Keith gives him a little wave. Then Derdryn says something, and Shiro replies, and Derdryn throws his head back to laugh in the uproarious way his people do, and Keith scowls and stomp-limps through the town and back to the Castle, only occasionally fending off thankful little old ladies and excited children.
Keith stops about twenty feet from the Castle because there’s a creature looking at it.
The creature is very purple. About the size of a serving platter, if you opt not to count the dangling tentacles. It’s semi-circular, with a little frill like a dancer’s tutu around the flat bottom of its otherwise round body. Its tentacles move constantly, making it difficult to count and be sure how many there are, but there must be at least a dozen tentacles that float several inches off the ground; some thin and narrow, some thick and curling like ringlets. There are shifting patterns inside the creature’s body, all in shades of purple, giving the impression that it contains swirling galaxies.
It turns around after a few heartbeats of Keith watching it, and then immediately floats over to him.
It has two enormous round black eyes, each catching the light in multiple places, reflecting like stars. It has a very small mouth that’s curled up like a smile.
It looks entirely like a cartoon jellyfish. A floating cartoon jellyfish with starry eyes and swirling galaxies inside it.
Floats up until it’s eye-level with Keith, it pauses and studies him, the way it must have been studying the Castle. It doesn’t move its mouth, and instead speaks directly into his mind: “You have injuries.”
“Er,” says Keith, out loud, considering he isn’t a telepathic cartoon jellyfish somehow made manifest in real life.
“I will help!” the voice in his mind exclaims. It sounds like two voices at once, one low and resonant, the other high and melodic.
Keith, quite rooted to the spot, can only watch as one of the large, curly tentacles reaches up and pats his cheek.
“Uh,” he says.
“There! All better!” The jellyfish does a little mid-air twirl before falling still again, watching Keith intently. “Yes? All better?”
“Um.” Keith makes a mental check of his physical state. “Yes. All better.”
“Wonderful! I am Lali. You are my new friend!”
And... yes. That’s right. Keith is Lali’s new friend. A slow smile crosses his face. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m Keith.”
“Hello, Keith.” One of Lali’s tentacles curls around his wrist. “Is this your ship?”
“Yeah, it’s the Castle of the Lions.”
“It is beautiful,” says Lali. “Are you going back on board?”
“That was the plan. I fell out of a tree and I needed to get patched up, but... well. I guess I don’t need to anymore.” He rolls his shoulders. His not-so-little jellyfish friend really did make short work of healing whatever injuries he might have had.
“But you still wish to go back on board your ship,” Lali says, with that small, placid smile unchanging.
“Yeah. I...” He swallows. He doesn’t want to say any of it out loud.
“Oh, I see,” says Lali, still seeming to smile, though its tone turns sad. “We will go back on board together, and I will keep you company.”
Keith hadn’t initially wanted any company whatsoever, but this is better. This is a lot better. “Okay,” he agrees, curling his fingers around the tentacle with its end curled around his wrist. “Let’s go.”
Keith is prepared to give the grand tour, but, first, Lali doesn’t want Keith to stay in his armour. It doesn’t like the armour very much—it makes Lali nervous, the cartoon-like space jellyfish explains, to be around armed and armoured creatures. So, without any self-consciousness, Keith doffs his armour.
“I am much more at ease, now,” Lali declares, its tentacle curling around Keith’s wrist again.
It smells like almond and sweet orange, and dislikes not touching Keith, so he makes sure to hold on to its tentacle in return. It enjoys seeing the kitchen, and is intrigued by the medbay and healing pods, and finds the training deck boring, and dips its tentacles into the pool, and makes two circuits of the bridge with Keith in tow. All the while, it says nothing—Keith is the only one who speaks, explaining to Lali what each room is for as it listens intently and hums at him.
Finally, it floats from seat to seat in the lounge, without relinquishing its gentle grip on Keith’s wrist.
He can hear its humming in his mind, both of its voices in perfect harmony, and the other tentacles touch the seats again and again, stroking over them. “Kind,” Lali says. “Caring. Brave. Trusting. Capable. Clever. Strong. Lonely. Stubborn. Commanding. Sad. Competitive. Rebellious. Yearning. I see now. Thank you, Keith. More?”
Nodding slowly, Keith says, “More, yeah,” and leads in the directions that Lali wants to go, hither and yon throughout the Castle in a path that makes little sense to Keith but must make plenty of sense to his new friend.
The flight pod bay makes Lali giddy, though it doesn’t dare actually touch anything.
But in the presence of the Lions, it presses against Keith’s side, quivering. “So big,” its voices whisper in Keith’s mind. “So much bigger than me, so much bigger than Keith!”
“Aw, buddy, it’s okay,” Keith says, and wraps Lali up in his arms. “They won’t hurt you, I promise.”
“So big,” Lali repeats, shifting about to hide its flat little face against Keith’s chest. It’s surprisingly warm, and unsurprisingly squishy, and squeaks—out loud—when Keith squeezes it.
“Very nice!” it declares, and Keith feels a happy buzz through his entire body. “I feel less afraid now, and would like to see closer, if I may.”
So Keith steps closer and closer to Red, and Lali turns in his arms and quivers, and wraps all its tentacles around Keith save one, which it uses to lightly touch Red’s leg. It lets out another out-loud squeak, and then thrums in happiness.
“Friend,” it whispers.
“Yeah,” Keith agrees, grinning crookedly up at Red, who remains still and impassive.
“Onward,” Lali says.
Inside Keith’s room, Lali releases his wrist and floats about the place for a moment, regarding the small collection of things Keith has collected through Voltron’s travels. Quietly, Keith sits on the edge of his bed, watching the space jellyfish float and bob through the air until it finally comes and rests on his lap.
“What now?” Keith asks, putting his hands and its soft, smooth, squishy sides.
“We stay together,” Lali says. “I keep you company. You keep me company. We bond now. You don’t not need to speak with me unless you wish to. I am content just to be here, with you, basking in your presence as it becomes familiar to me.”
“Oh, yeah, okay, sure.” Keith scoots back on the bed, careful not to jostle Lali too much, and leans back against the wall. He can’t help but smile as he looks into Lali’s fathomless eyes, and he takes off his gloves, setting them aside before he rests his hands on Lali’s round body again.
One swaying tentacle comes up, and Lali touches Keith’s cheek, his nose, his chin; strokes over his hair, around his ear; and he sits there all the while, quiet and patient, until Lali seems to have had its fill, and it shifts and squirms as it settles on his lap.
“Tell me about Earth,” Lali says.
Keith can think of precisely zero reasons not to, so he does.