GEDD’S VILLAGE WAS… a village. There wasn’t much else to say about it—they seemed to live exactly like the feudal peasants they appeared to be. That wasn’t meant to be an insult, either—Robin had lived in his era’s version of poverty, one step above being homeless, so it’s not like he had a right to judge. The village was about like living in a trailer park, all things considered, with everyone packed like sardines into the smallest possible area and left to rot while the rest of society pretended they didn’t exist.

The village was surrounded by open space, but much of it was farmland or forest and they probably wanted to stick together anyway. Safety in numbers and all that. The whole place reeked of livestock and the stench of unwashed bodies which, again, wasn’t all that different from home.

Gedd left them on the outskirts of the village with a promise to return with clothes so they wouldn’t be shot on sight—or whatever it was they did to blighted girls and strange men in loincloths. He was fairly certain they hadn’t done anything wrong, but if the way Gedd had reacted to Medea was any indication, she wouldn’t be receiving a warm welcome. A not insignificant part of Robin wanted to bolt right then and there, incapable of trusting the man not to run to the nearest authority. That part only grew the longer it took for Gedd to come back.

Medea had barely spoken a word since her conversation with Gedd, if it could be called that, and was currently doing everything in her power to avoid making eye contact, shifting nervously on her feet nearby. Robin was somewhat inclined to force her to spit out whatever was bothering her, but he was also hungry and tired and his feet were killing him. He’d decided to deal with it later.

Eventually, Gedd did return, surprisingly without an armed escort. He’d procured a simple outfit for Robin, not unlike the clothes the man himself wore, and a dress for Medea as well as a long cloak to hide her face. Apparently, he’d decided to keep Medea’s condition a secret from his wife, too, and they were told in no uncertain terms to keep their mouths shut on the matter or go hungry.

“The river is up that way, just a short walk—I suspect you’ll want to wash up before you get dressed.” He eyed Robin in particular, covered quite visibly in sweat and grime from his jaunt through the wilderness. Medea wasn’t much better off; she just had clothing to hide it better. Gedd handed over a bar of what must have been soap, though it was a strange shade of green and carried little scent, and a small vial of something paste-like. “For your feet. I’ll wait here for a time, but if you don’t return...”

Robin nodded, and was about to ask if he was primarily concerned about the walking dead or the bandits, but realized it didn’t matter much either way.

“We’ll be back,” Robin said, cradling the armful of clothes. He walked the path in the direction Gedd had pointed, with Medea following quietly behind. Eventually they popped out on the bank of a river flowing down the nearby mountain, the looming giant only visible now that they’d cleared the tree line. He supposed the river was more of a stream, really, but it was deep enough to swim in at least. The water was a crystal clear blue, and Robin almost took a sip before realizing he wasn’t sure he wanted to drink unpurified alien water.

“Tartarus,” Medea said, staring up at the mountain. “We were inside not long ago.”

Tartarus? The name was familiar—more Greek, maybe. His knowledge of the language was essentially zilch, so he was mostly just guessing. Actually… considering the recent discovery that he was some kind of magical polyglot, it was entirely possible everything was just being translated for his benefit. It could be Mount Xgolxaigudjhi for all he knew.

Robin wasn’t sure if Medea wanted him to respond to her quiet musing, so he didn’t. Instead, he stripped off the few bits of shredded cloth covering his feet, and began the arduous task of picking shards of rock out of his skin. Medea watched silently, grimacing as she saw the true extent of the damage. Maybe his distant ancestors had walked around with bare feet, but Robin’s modern flesh was soft and weak, used to having several layers between them and the unforgiving earth.

“You should have said something,” she said, quietly.

Robin chuckled. “What would you have done? You pretty much exhausted your available resources, and well...” He motioned toward his poor, mangled feet.

She shook her head, frowning. “I don’t know. Something.”

Robin appreciated her willingness to help, but he already knew she’d done more than most would’ve. Besides, he’d done nothing to earn such kindness. “You did enough,” he said, going back to his work.

The question now was whether to apply the ointment before or after he subjected his feet to whatever alien bacteria were in the water. It might act as some kind of sealant to keep the bad out… or maybe it needed time to take effect and the water would just wash it off. In the end, he applied a light coat and decided to shoot for both, stretching the paste as far as he could.

Afterward, Robin pulled off the makeshift loincloth and waded into the cool water. It was pleasant enough, the afternoon sun warming it to a level just above chilly. He floated on his back on the surface, trying to relax for the first time since coming to Gaia. The water rippled nearby, and he caught the sight of Medea’s body just before she submerged herself… aside from what little propriety she could salvage using her arms, of course. He’d said it before and he’d say it again—she was breathtaking.

She was also very obviously uncomfortable. A situation like this called for professionalism, as any undue attention paid would only serve to creep her out. Besides, Robin wasn’t even certain she didn’t hate his guts at the moment. She had been rather frosty since he’d asked her to lay off. At the time it’d seemed like a reasonable request, but looking back… it may have just been an overreaction to a stressful situation. He couldn’t really remember what he’d said, come to think of it. Hopefully nothing too shitty… though there was definitely something in there about busting balls.

“How can you relax…?” Medea asked, surprising him. She was floating much closer than he’d expected, barely an arm’s length away. He could make out the shape of her body below the surface of the clear water, though she had her arms wrapped around herself. “There may yet be more of those… things all around us.”

“Eh,” Robin said, letting a hand flop on the water. “Worrying about it isn’t going to help.”

“That… is true,” she said, though she sounded uncertain. “But letting your guard down is a good way to get ambushed, no…?”

He didn’t know why she was asking him, but it seemed like solid thinking. “Probably,” he agreed.

“Then… why?”

He shrugged, sending water rippling away. “Dunno. Maybe I just don’t think it’s that big of a deal?”

“Is that why you suffer silently through pain?” Medea asked. “And provide your humor in the face of uncertainty and danger? And stand between people you do not know and monsters that would tear them apart? Because it isn’t a big deal…?”

Robin slowly turned to meet Medea’s eyes, noting this time she didn’t look away. Her outburst was… pointed. He hadn’t known she was so observant. The question for him was why she would care enough to bring it up… it was his life and far from her problem.

Then again… she was probably scared. There was a very real possibility nobody around here would be able to understand anything she said, and if she was asleep long enough the freakin’ language had changed, well… it didn’t bode well for her finding any semblance of normalcy any time soon. She probably recognized that as well, and had decided Robin was her best shot at figuring things out. He actually kinda felt sorry for her… it would suck to be reliant on him.

He sighed, briefly slipping under the surface of the water as the air left his lungs. His feet touched bottom, and he surfaced, slicking back wet hair to get it out of his eyes. She was still staring, clearly waiting for an answer.

“Is it… some kind of custom in Tarthos to supply pointed criticism on the first date?”

“That isn’t what I…” Medea stopped herself, letting out a heavy sigh. “I apologize. My words were not meant as criticism. And… about before as well. I believed…” She paused, searching for the words. “It felt as if you were mocking me. As if my problems were beneath you.”

Robin was quiet for a time, contemplating her words. “I didn’t mean to come off that way,” he said, finally. “I wasn’t trying to mock you or your problems—I don’t really know anything about either. Honestly, I’m just scratching the surface of what’s going on in this world. ”

“I believe I’m beginning to understand that,” Medea said, gazing solemnly up at the mountain. “I… do not know how long I was asleep. Some things are familiar… and others are so very different.” She met his eyes again. “We both are strangers to this place, Robin, but I…”

“Can’t understand the locals,” he supplied.

Medea nodded, her eyes downcast as she hugged herself tighter. “Though I have little to offer… I propose a partnership. I swear I will endeavor to be of use—

“Hold on,” Robin interrupted. “I already told you I’d help you get back on your feet.”

“Truly…?”

He nodded. “Sure. Don’t stab me in the back and I’ll do what I can. Besides… it’s not like I have anywhere better to be.”

“Your home?” Medea asked, quietly.

He gave a noncommittal shrug, all but certain she would press the issue and give him a perfect opportunity to fuck things up again.

Instead, she began flailing in the water. Robin thought for a moment she was being attacked, but after a quick scan of her and their surroundings, he came to another conclusion. They’d been drifting further from the bank, and Medea must’ve missed the moment her feet stopped touching the slope.

Robin tried very hard not to laugh as he swam over and grabbed her underneath the arms, trying to be respectful while she struggled for dear life. He pushed her toward the bank, a bit downstream from where their stuff was piled, and in another moment she’d regained her footing.

Medea waded closer to the bank and knelt in the water, covering her face with her hands.

“You, uh, you alright?” Robin asked, face twisting as he tried not to laugh.

Medea mumbled something he couldn’t hear into her hands, shaking her head at the same time.

“What was that?”

“I said, this is mortifying,” she mumbled loudly. “Not only have I abandoned my dignity, I had to be rescued like a child. Let it be over.. give me to the monsters.”

He couldn’t hold it in any longer, and burst out laughing.

Medea turned in place, covering her breasts with her arms as she growled at him. “Not all of us lack a sense of decency, you… you barbarian.”

“It’s true,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye and wading out of the water. “I have a gift.”

Medea didn’t bother hiding her interest in his body, presumably because he didn’t seem to care, and perhaps also because she was mad and feeling obstinate. He wondered if she’d ever seen a naked man before. Surely she had… right? Medea must’ve been in her early twenties like him… but he supposed there was no telling what kind of prudes the Tarthons had been.

Then again… what if she’d aged while she slept? He’d just been assuming she was magically preserved or something… but what if he was flashing a woman with the mind of a child? He hadn’t considered that. Best to find out now before they really did put him on a registry…

“Medea, how old were you when you… you know… went to sleep?” Robin asked, carefully.

She glanced up at him, no doubt curious about the sudden segue. “The ritual took place shortly after my twenty-second name day,” she said, slowly. “Why?”

That was good, but wait… how could he even be certain a year was the same length of time on Gaia? That could mean anything… and this was getting worse the longer he thought about it.

“And generally speaking… how old were people in Tarthos when they started having sex?”

Medea froze in the water, gaping at him like a fish. “Why,” she began, tone completely flat. “With all that’s occurred… why? Is that truly what weighs on your mind?”

He raised a single, accusatory eyebrow before glancing himself up and down, then back at Medea, finding her oddly reluctant to meet his eyes. “Anyway,” Robin continued, chuckling. “I’m only asking because I want to make sure I’m not breaking any laws.”

“No, Robin,” she sighed. “You have not broken any laws. I am more than old enough to make my own decisions…” She paused, facing pinching up a little. “…At least by Tarthon standards. Now…? I cannot say if there are laws left to break.”

A contemplative frown formed on Robin’s face as he stared at Gaia’s vast blue sky, almost indistinguishable from Earth’s. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.