Submitted for the November 2023 prompt: Feasts with the Beasts

L'nan frowned as he felt the white tiles. On one side, a rough texture scratched his fingertips; on the other, smooth, black dots spread in different numbers. Some had ashy smudges, and all smelled of smoke. He hated them.

 

The problem was that L'nan hadn’t touched something since... forever. Of course, he couldn’t be completely certain: Dory wasn’t in his head anymore, and she was the one that remembered everything for L’nan.

 

I’ll get her back. Then I’ll know everything again.

 

At any rate, it’d been at least a very long time since he’d touched something. Well, besides the fluff suit that fed, cleaned, massaged, and warmed his body, but that obviously didn’t count. He was used to that touch.

 

“Hey there, kid, are you going to set down your dominoes? It’s your turn.”

 

L'nan groaned, then glanced up at the literal man — as in, physical, live man — who sat across from him. He was huge, bigger than any ‘net avatar L'nan had seen. A white jacket squeezed his black-clothed body. The guy raised an eyebrow. Sneering, L'nan swiped his hand outward, the gesture to mute another avatar.

 

The man cocked his head, then rubbed a tile against the prickles on his lower face. That tile had smudges, leaving a dark mark on his skin. “Why are you waving at me, kid?”

 

“I’m not waving at you.” L'nan rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you to turn off.”

 

The man nodded, still rubbing his face with the tile.

 

“And stop calling me kid. That’s stupid.”

 

“Okay. Then what’s your name? My name is Grant.”

 

“I’m not telling you, you’re stupid.” L'nan tossed his head. The man was a brute. He didn’t understand how old and simple he was.

 

“Uh-huh,” replied the man, and he held his tile toward L'nan. “It’s your turn. Do you have a double-blank?” The man gestured towards the table; face-down tiles covered the metal, and a strange contraption sat at the center. It was a hexagon; joints at each angle created gaps the size of a tile, and the man had shoved a domino only one dot in the opening closest to him. A pink figurine sat on the man’s domino. Another figurine, this one sparkly blue, sat in front of L’nan’s opening. He picked it up, and the man smiled.

 

“That’s a train figurine. It shows which track is yours.”

 

L’nan rolled his eyes. If Dory were here, she would’ve already told him everything.

 

But she wasn’t.

 

“My track?” L’nan said.

 

The man nodded. “Yeah. Your line of connecting dominoes. And whoever gets rid of all their dominoes first wins.”

 

L’nan stroked the blue ‘train’ piece; it was smooth, with little dips and lines carved in its small body. Much nicer than the dominoes. He... he liked touching it.

A weird, uncomfortable feeling bubbled in L’nan’s stomach, making him tense and shaky. How could he like something like this? He needed to end this real-life yuck and get back to his room. Which he would never leave again.

 

Grimacing, L’nan set the train back down.

 

“What’s the matter?” asked the man. "Do you not have games like this where you come from?"

 

L’nan ignored him. “I need to go home,” he said, hating his weak, trembling voice. “I can’t play ‘Mexican train’ with you. I miss Dory. I miss home and all my avatars. I don’t like touching things.”

 

The man — Grant — set down his domino and rubbed his prickly chin; the seams of his white coat bulged around his biceps. He stared at L’nan, tapping the fingers of his other hand on the table.

 

“I mean,” L’nan began, his voice going shrill, “I didn’t mean to leave my room. I thought it was a level-upper, you know, that unlocks new avatars. I... I didn’t think it was real. It didn’t feel real until I got here. Now it’s too real.”

 

L’nan suddenly felt scared. Actually scared. His stomach cramped, hurting like he needed to relieve himself or puke, but his fluff suit didn’t work anymore. L’nan flushed; he didn’t want to nasty his clothes.

 

But that wasn’t the worst. No one would ever understand him again if he stayed here, in this old, boring, real world. They didn’t have Dorys, not yet, no fluff suits or avatars or any part of L’nan’s world. And without Dory, how would anyone know what he was thinking?

 

He'd be alone.

 

Wrapping his arms around his chest, L’nan rocked back and forth. His cheeks became wet, but he didn’t feel the tears.

 

“I miss my home, too.”

 

L’nan looked up. Grant had stacked his dominoes into a tower. He looked at L’nan. With a flick of his huge hand, Grant knocked the tower down. The white tiles scattered, and one dropped into L’nan’s lap.

 

“Most burnt,” said Grant, and he tapped a sooty domino on the table. “My family died.”

 

L’nan frowned. “Family,” he said, trying the word. He hadn’t heard it before.

 

“Yeah. My wife, my two boys, my little girl. That’s real life for you. It eats everything. It won't let you go back.”

 

L’nan shuddered, feeling his gut clench again. “I don’t want real life, Grant. I want to go back to my room.”

 

Grant nodded. “But…” he began, then he wasn’t looking at L’nan anymore. Grant’s expression went far off. “But I wouldn’t have not loved them for anything. You know what I mean?”

 

L’nan shook his head. No, he didn’t.

 

Grant sighed. “I mean... I mean it was worth it to... ugh. I don’t know.”

 

The tears had dried on L’nan’s face, and he picked up a domino from the tiles in front of him. This one had no dots; only a black line halved the blank domino. Glancing at Grant’s setup, L’nan placed his tile below his own ‘train.’

 

Grant blinked, then smiled. “You started your track, ki—”

 

“L’nan,” L'nan interrupted. “My name is L’nan.”