Page 32 of Crown of Flame
Then I realize how confused he must be.
“You said you don’t have a mom or a dad, right?”
He nods.
“Expelled from the core of my home,” he says. “Quite a while ago.”
“So if you wanted to, you couldn’t–?”
He sets me down on the ground, and immediately, I miss his warmth. The cold crashes into me, exaggerating my wounds as I shiver slightly.
“Couldn’t what?”
I try to think over how to explain sexuality to a being from a realm where it seemingly doesn’t exist. The idea is probably ridiculous.
But then, so is the idea of a being like him even having these feelings. What could have nurtured these feelings in a realm where my kind doesn’t exist?
“Do your people have children?”
He leans up against the hovel, and I see where his form chars the rock.
“Some of my kind can expel beings like themselves, once they come of a certain age,” he says. “Then their flames burn out, and they perish in the deepest chasms of my home.”
“So asexual reproduction then.”
He stares at me for a minute, and I question whether I’ve said something enormously stupid.
“What are you talking about?”
I take a faint breath, realizing this could take some time and that I’ll have to go very slowly.
“We have certain species that reproduce asexually,” I tell him, coughing gently. “They’re able to take pieces of themselves and break them off. And then they become entirely new species, separate from the original creature.”
“Do they still retain the memories of the original creature?”
He’s said something that I didn’t expect to puzzle me.
“I honestly don’t know. But then I suppose I’ve never considered them having memories at all…”
“That’s awfully close-minded,” he says. “Aren’t you the slightest bit curious? Haven’t you ever asked one of these creatures directly?”
I shake my head.
“No, typically these creatures aren’t capable of communication. So asking one directly would be impossible…”
I realize suddenly that he’s suppressing a laugh.
“I guess you’re learning humor,” I say.
He nods, expelling a fiery chuckle.
“Partly. I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I bring my hand up to his chest, still deeply engrossed in how it doesn’t burn me and how he almost feels like a man I could love. I’m able to forgo the pain of my wounds, if only for a moment.
“Do you feel anything from that?”
He looks down at my hand, and I wish I could feel his heart beating. I see where my hand has been clawed open slightly. That will probably scar, but I’ve dealt with worse.