Seeing human colonists, particularly those who had arrived recently, navigate through the ways and means of Albaterran life was much like watching a newborn discover the world around him. They were wide-eyed and flustered and unaware of themselves, and observing such effectually lifted witnessing A’li-uud to a status of sage content, not unlike that of parents. The uncertainty drew a line between native and settler to antagonize the already-obvious differences and stunt the progression of integration. Thus, the segregation of human from A’li-uud remained both a product and a necessity of the colonization process.

Never had I felt as united in inaptitude with both A’li-uud and humans alike as I did sitting beneath the soaring canopy of the reception tent while my brother and his new wife danced. Nobody was comfortable; all present seemed to be equally unfamiliar with their surroundings, as we were in the midst of a perfect blend between human and A’li-uud culture, and the only beings I saw entirely at ease were the bride, the groom, and the exceedingly energetic Edie.

Traditionally, A’li-uud weddings were comprised of a brief ceremony officiated by the kingdom’s Elder and attended just by immediate family members. After their joining, the new couple was then sent away to prepare a feast for their handful of guests, which was to be served at the home of the female’s mother. In the event the couple had not yet acquired a marital residence, they were to spend the three days following the wedding doing so. If they already had such, they retired to the said residence for three days, where they would remain uninterrupted to solidify their bond as husband and wife. It was a simple, intimate custom designed to sever the ties of separatism and merge two histories into a single future.

Human weddings were evidently much more lavish and grandiose in their celebration. The number of guests was obscene, a quantity comparable only to the masses who gathered to hear an Elder speak. A feast did indeed follow the ceremony, but it was neither prepared by Zuran and Phoebe nor was it held at the home of my mother. Rather, we were to eat in the richly-decorated reception tent from assigned seats placed neatly around circular tables in groups of eight, and we were served by warriors Zuran had asked to assist. Such division between guests meant conversation was limited to those appointed to respective tables, which, in my humble opinion, dissolved the aura of intimacy essential for a wedding. Furthermore, music and dancing followed the meal, initiated by a dance reserved solely for the bride and groom. Though their arms were wrapped around one another and they gazed into the other’s eyes adoringly, I felt the personal element was lost in the sea of silent onlookers. Perhaps I had merely become irreverently cynical in my months as a contested Elder, but the ordeal appeared more to me as staged and contrived than it did a beautiful commemoration of true love found.

Cynicism dismissed, the tent had truly been dressed exquisitely. Strings of lit geodes roped around the borders and across the unoccupied air overhead, casting a soft and starry glow upon both objects and attendants. Tables were handsomely garnished with shimmery silken cloths and grand floral centerpieces in hues of gold and indigo and crimson and verdigris. Each chair encircling each table was a solid, transparent material of mid-back height, lit by luminous geodes of the same color scheme embedded within the glassy construct. Between the flowers and the food, my nose was overwhelmed with scents, but I also detected a sugary aroma of unidentifiable origin beneath that eliminated what little familiarity I had with the ambience and tempted my sensical curiosities. Only my ears were unobstructed by peculiarity, as the musicians and their instruments frequented the city streets like semi-permanent Dhal’atian installations. Taking in everything, the combination of such flamboyant features reminded me of the Merchant’s Walk inside the Ka-lik’et walls, though this was arguably of a more elegant design.

As Zuran and Phoebe twirled about an open space unoccupied by dining tables, I was approached by the same small human who had accosted me earlier. Edie sank onto the seat beside mine, which had recently been vacated by my father in his pursuit to speak with an old acquaintance several tables over, and arranged her skirts neatly around her legs.

“Hi,” she breathed, a broad smile of greeting splitting her friendly face.

“Hello,” I reciprocated with a slight bow of my chin. I was inclined to peer in the direction from whence she arrived, hoping to spot a glimpse of her buxom companion, but I restrained myself in the interest of appearing collected and composed—just as an Elder ought to be. “You are enjoying the wedding?”

She nodded eagerly, sending styled curls into a frenzied bounce. “Oh, yeah. A’li-uud stuff is so much cooler than what we have on Earth. I mean, look at this thing!” She seized the backrest of the chair upon which she sat and jostled it slightly, rocking a breath before righting herself again. “Totally awesome. It’s like being in a movie.”

I knew not what a movie was, nor was I interested in finding out, so I simply nodded with indifferent agreement and swiveled my gaze idly over her shoulder. The dark-haired human I admired so was nowhere to be seen, but there was a human male standing amongst the scattered tables with his eyes pinned on Edie. I tilted my head in his direction and said, “I believe you have a fancier.”

“That’s my date,” she replied proudly after following my indication. “He’s a Corporal. We’ve been seeing each other for months, but we haven’t had the whole ‘exclusive’ talk, you know? I’m not really sure why, because I’m not going out with anyone else and I don’t think he is either. I’ve started to wonder if he has commitment issues. What’s weird is, back on Earth, I would’ve dumped him already for not putting a title on our relationship, but here is different. I guess I don’t care as much. I mean, the men outnumber the women like three-to-one, so I’ve got options. Either he’ll make me his girlfriend or he won’t, right?”

Again, her rambling stunned me, particularly because she spoke to me as if I were a bosom friend rather than a relative stranger. Instead of answering her assumedly rhetorical question, I decided the time was opportune to segue into asking about her original accompaniment. “Has your female friend left, then?”

“Octavia? No, she’s right there.” She pointed in the general direction of her Corporal mate. Behind him, I noticed a head of adumbral hair, and I realized I had first failed to see her because she was sitting with a group of other humans into which she blended quite seamlessly. When I turned my attention back to Edie, I found her smiling at me with a measure of smug suggestiveness. “Why? Do you like her?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I do not know her.”

“Well, I think she likes you,” Edie said with a shrug. Her smile elongated into a beam as she added, “She was surprised to find out you’re an Elder.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, because you’re not wearing your robes.” She glanced at my unattired chest.

I, too, glanced down at myself as if having forgotten I was without torso dressings. “The robes draw much attention,” I informed her. “As it is a day to celebrate my brother, I elected to forego such vestment and instead mingle into the crowd. As best as I am able to, anyway.” I spoke the last statement with a note of unintentional bitterness.

“That makes sense,” she commented. The sounds of shuffling behind me drew my consideration from her, and we watched in momentary silence as a smattering of human couples and one A’li-uud pair joined the newlyweds in dancing. Edie twisted in her seat to look behind her at her awaiting Corporal, and she shifted to rise. Before she stood, however, she leaned nearer to me and hinted, “You should ask Octavia to dance.”

The suggestion startled me, and I inadvertently spouted, “Why?”

“I think she likes you,” she repeated with a mysterious smile. Then, she got to her feet, offered me a small wave of departure, and ventured through the maze of tables toward her male companion.

For a moment, I considered dismissing her advice. Dancing was not an activity I engaged in, and I was especially reluctant given the amount of cutting stares I was already receiving simply for existing within the confines of the tent. Furthermore, her estimation of the woman’s interest in me was just that: an estimation. I did not wish to subject myself to further ridicule by requesting the company of a human and being rejected for all to see. More than anything, though, I had become entangled in my new role as Elder, both to clear my name and to live up to the honor of the Elderhood. Time for frivolous socializing was not something I possessed.

Yet, I was at the reception with little else to do but sit and endure disparaging looks from those nearest me. How much more I could tolerate before my boots carried me back to the relief of the Elder palace of their own accord, I did not know, but I knew my patience was waning. In a sudden fit of defiant courage, I left my chair and wove my way through the tables toward the mane of brunette tresses. If she were to reject me, so be it. I had grown accustomed to repudiation in the last few months, anyway.