"You did that?"
"Yes. I couldn't make myself to... Leave her...?"
The voices overfilled the library and the sound of them slipped through the door into the hall. I tried not to pay much attention to the exact words spelt out.
I knocked at the door and asked if I can come in, "you can" was the answer.
The ambassador was still laying in, now her, armchair. She looked worn out, and somewhat melancholic. The "braids" filled the whole room again.
Making my way to her sitting I asked if the ambassador slept well or not.
She mumbled something like "I didn't sleep" and rolled in her blanket. The king sighed heavily.
For almost a week our guest occupied the "book temple". I tried to reason with her so she'd change rooms, but she was reason un-able.
What a pun!
However, I had some time to study her "braids". They're plant-based. I even wondered if starlings were trees or something, and the gloomy library dweller answered with "no".
The King stood up and left the room so I could do "my job" - talking. He nodded and closed the door.
I took "the hair" and started to cut them short, as I was asked to do earlier. I cut veins one by one and thought of the "hair" remains scattered around the library. Cleaning... So much cleaning.
"Fungi." I heard out of the blue. It was my companion's sad husky voice.
"I'm sorry, ambassador, what did you just say?"
"Fungi." She repeated herself.
"'Fungi' what?'"
"We. I mean... Starlings. You asked what are we, we are Mycoids or Fungoids. Mushrooms."
"Oh. I see." I cut one more "vein". Is it even a vein? A tentacle? A cap? I thought I should ask since we're talking anatomy anyway. "Your 'hair'... How do you call it? I mean the right name, scientific name or something..."
"Arms."
"And how do you call your arms then?"
"Arms."
"Your legs?"
"Arms."
"Oh... Your... Breasts?"
"We do not have breasts..."
"I mean, that thing on your torso...?"
The room fell silent for a second and I started to hate myself for asking these inappropriate questions about quirks of mycoid anatomy. But then I heard a sigh:
"Asci."
"Excuse me?"
"They called asci. The place for ascospores. We are not mammals, we don't have breasts and milk."
"Oh... Yeah... Makes sense." I stopped talking and resumed chopping.
The awkward silence came back and for some time the only sound the library was filled with was the sound of cutting. Chop-chop-chop.
"Do you... Want to touch them...?"
At first, I didn't even apprehend this question. But then I suddenly became furious.
"What?! Am I looking like a complete pervert or what?!"
Jokes on me, because I definitely wanted to touch them... And, yeah, I am a complete pervert... But assaulting an emotionally vulnerable person was not one of my kinks.
"Woah, calm down." She turned to look at me. "Have I said something wrong?"
"You asked if I want to touch your... your private parts."
"Private parts?"
"Boobs...!"
"I do not possess any boobs..."
"I mean asci. Yeah, asci."
"Pfff... Ha-ha-ha." She bursted out laughing. She laughed quite hard and her shortcut head-arms cutely wiggled along with her giggles.
"What is so funny? If I said something stupid, besides crying out loud the word "boobs" of course, just... Look, I am sorry. I know I am ignorant." I sighed, lowering my hands, sadly looking at the floor. "Sorry..."
Ha-na took my hands with her torso-arms (and maybe hands?), removing the scissors from them and softly explained my mistake:
"The asci... They are not considered 'the private part'. However, I understand why you've thought they are."
She stood up and went closer to one of the library mirrors. With a "hmm", she cut off the remaining long "hair"-bits:
"You are funny. But I wish I could remember you, and the things I foresaw about you. And... Of course, you are ignorant about my... Our biology..." She looked closer into a mirror, smirked satisfyingly, and went on, turning back to me. "There is no book about it. There is nothing on this subject. We like to keep everything a secret, to reserve for ourselves... And all of that, 'tradition' and all..." She air quoted on "tradition".
She came to me, handed the scissors, and sat herself in the armchair:
"Fear, I think. We fear others, fear ourselves, fear to accept the fact that we are afraid. So we fight... We fight, instead of accepting and actually living."