Grazing The Sky

Zidane nodded, and Lance felt the tension in his gut lift away. "Yeah," he said. "We just need to find it."

"And it starts with the barriers."

Another slow nod, eye contact remaining unbroken.

"I'd like to get you some breakfast," Zidane said. "If it's okay."

Lance looked down to the guitar again, then over to the left side of the room. Murmuring about how there was a way. There was a way.

"What do you like in your omelet?"

He turned, seeing Zidane was headed towards the kitchen area. Lance swallowed, blinking past tears wanting to well up.

"Meat," he said. "If you've got it."

Zidane glanced back. "Girlfriend's a vegetarian; might be a little hard, but I'll see what I can do."

That bolt came into Lance again, obliterating every ounce of heartache. But confusion quickly stormed through, leaving him quaking internally again. Those cells...

'Dammit.'

"Is..." He hesitated, unsure if he really wanted to speak. "Is there another test you could do on me?" he asked.

Zidane looked back, blue eyes soft. "You mean to see how strong the cells are?"

Lance nodded; Zidane shook his head.

"Right now, I think it's best to get some food in you. We can run a few more after breakfast."

Lance watched his tail flick out as he spoke.

'Aliens are weird.'

Zidane suddenly looked towards him, a little surprised. "I completely forgot to mention that," he said. He kept walking, heading towards the stove. "Yeah, we're not aliens."

Lance sat up. "What?"

Zidane crouched down in front of the lower cabinets, the sounds of pans gently rustling underneath his words. "Well, to put it simply"—He popped up again, a large pan in one hand—"We evolved from humans."

Lance was suddenly at a loss for words. He hadn't even been awake for five minutes and already his brain was twisted.

"How's that even possible?"

"Well, in terms of evolution"—Zidane clicked on the stove, beginning to warm the empty pan, and raised himself up on the counter, focusing completely on Lance—"How is anything possible? Survival of the fittest, right? Most adaptive traits get passed on. So, a few turns down the road, different sets of species branched off."

"And... They have tails and can levitate..." Lance's words ended there; he was too confused to even continue speaking.

Zidane nodded kindly. "I mean, if you really wanted to, I could go into all of it." He looked back to the stove, turning away from Lance. "It's just a heck lot of science, if you really wanted to get down to it."

"The...levitating. The spells and shit," Lance began, trying to grasp the concept. "How is that something that came from humans?"

"Well"—Zidane massaged a knuckle against one closed eye—"I think the best explanation I've come across is that thoughts carry certain vibrations. They can affect your body, amplify diseases. Basically have a major influence on your environment and your life. With Razaleks, that... Ability just adapted into a way that made surviving easier."

With a small raise of one hand, the door to an upper cabinet opened, one plate flying out and levitating on its side in front of Zidane. Lance watched the dish spin, the only prompt of momentum coming from a flick of Zidane's finger over a foot away.

"Razaleks have organs that convert every bit of energy they get—whether it's from food, dirt on their skin, chemicals they breathe in—and transfers it into another organ. Sort of like a pouch; it keeps that energy stored and ready to use whenever needed." The plate was suddenly tossed to him, landing in waiting hands. Zidane flipped it over, looking at it for a moment before tossing it into the air again. It rolled away on one side, traveling in mid-air as he continued speaking. "And that energy allows us to do things like this."

Lance watched the plate move, spinning further away in slow circles. Zidane had his hands on the counter for another moment before raising one of them; the plate suddenly yanked itself towards him, landing in his waiting grasp. Zidane looked to Lance, casually pointing with the dish.

"That answer your question?"

Lance nodded, still trying to make his mind work again. He could only keep wondering how this was possible; how humans didn't know anything about this; how they couldn't do anything close to what he just saw.

Lance thought again, focusing on the first question to come to mind; one he had while trying to fall asleep last night.

"Are there more like you?"

"You mean more mixed breeds?"

"Yeah."

An instant shake of the head; a hand extended, another plate shooting out of the cabinet and into a waiting palm. "No; it's nothing I'd wish on anybody.

Lance didn't know what to say to that.

"Spiros and Razaleks are pretty hostile with each other, usually," Zidane began. "There was a war that broke out about... two-hundred years ago, and recently ended in the last fifty." He turned around again, withdrawing a fork from his sleeve. He motioned to Lance with the omelet. "You want the first one, or should I...?"

Lance instantly shook his head. He wasn't about to take food from this guy. "No; I'm good."

Zidane smiled a little, his eyes brightening. "You still think I'm gonna kill you?" he asked.

"You readin' my mind again?"

With a laugh, Zidane materialized a translucent chart. The bar was set high, but the labels were made of a language Lance didn't recognize. It nearly looked like a mixture of Arabic and Japanese.

"When you connect with a mind," the crossbreed began, "you can choose the strength of that connection, or how many thoughts you hear." His hand lowered a little, prompting the bar to lower as well. "The connection can't be broken, so I'll set the bar as low as I can; you'll have to scream in your head in order for me to hear it."

'Fantastic,' Lance thought.