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Babylon 5 fic: Stripped Bare
Stripped Bare (2533 words) by Sholio
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Babylon 5 (TV 1993)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Delenn & G'Kar (Babylon 5), G'Kar & Londo Mollari
Characters: G'Kar (Babylon 5), Delenn (Babylon 5), Londo Mollari
Additional Tags: Developing Friendships, Alien Biology
Summary: Narns have to molt occasionally. This isn't a problem for G'Kar until Cartagia. (From a prompt at Tumblr.)
Well, I can honestly say that in 25 years of writing fanfic, I had never written a character molting before, prior to this.
The prompt
Fic is cross-posted under the cut.
The Narn molt was normally a private, contemplative time. Like other natural bodily functions among many races, it was considered a bit embarrassing, something one wouldn't normally do in public. And it left a person in a weakened, vulnerable state as the new skin hardened, a further reason why at home on Narn, it would normally be done in private, among family.
But it had never been painful before.
The damnable Centauri. Curse them. G'Kar supposed it would have been less of a problem if he hadn't been so close to a molt before his torture at Cartagia's hands. And sometimes periods of extreme stress or illness could trigger a molt anyway, as it was the body's natural way of repairing damage, so this might have been inevitable once he had a chance to rest and his body began to heal.
So now he was in the middle of the most painful and unpleasant molt of his life. The main problem was that the skin did not want to detach around the newly formed scar tissue from Cartagia's little games. So he had to tear or cut it free. And he could not reach some parts of his body, especially on his back. He had met Narns who had had similar things happen during the Centauri occupation and the war. The old scar tissue, bound up in knots with skin that would not detach, could form incredibly unsightly deformations and even disability, requiring surgery to correct.
He had let it be known that he was ill, and assumed that it would be left at that. He was not regularly in the habit of receiving visitors during illness. Narns of course knew to leave a molting Narn alone. But he had forgotten that the situation was different now. He had -- friends. Of other races.
So of course his door chimed, and it turned out to be Delenn.
"I am indisposed," he said shortly, without opening it.
"I know. I came by to see if it was anything serious, and if you perhaps needed something brought by? I could pick you up a food item, or something from the Zocalo."
Somewhat to his surprise, it was company that he craved more than anything else. Molting was a private process, but during a difficult or unpleasant molt, it made it easier to have family or close friends nearby, the only people that any Narn would trust to be with them during this uncomfortable and vulnerable time.
He thought about sending her away.
But of everyone he knew, he supposed Delenn would understand. He had been mostly off the station during the time when Delenn went through her own transformation, and he didn't know her well then -- didn't know anyone well, yet, as he'd made few efforts, in those early days, to extend a hand of friendship to members of other species.
So, yes, Delenn might understand. He did not want to go to the medbay. But he might need help.
"Enter," he said quietly. "I should warn you, the sight you will see is not a pleasant one. But I can assure you that what ails me is not contagious to other races."
Delenn stepped inside. He had the lights down so low that it probably looked quite dark to her, with nothing but a dim reddish glow illuminating his quarters; bright light would be painful, and perhaps detrimental to the newly formed skin. He saw her looking around, getting her bearings, finding him eventually. He had made himself a pile of blankets on the floor, where he did not have to deal with getting on and off the bed.
"It seems serious," Delenn said carefully. She crouched beside him, showing no disgust, but keeping a slight distance. "Should I consult Dr. Franklin?"
"No," G'Kar said, discomfort making him slightly snappish. On top of being painful, it was also itchy. "This is a normal process for us. It just does not normally take this long."
"Oh," she said. "I've heard of the Narn molt. I never expected to see it. I know less than I would like of Narn ways, but I am aware that you do not like others to be present. Would you prefer me to leave?"
In his present irritable state, it was all he could do not to roll his eye. "Delenn, if I wanted you to leave, I would have asked you to leave, not come in."
Delenn bowed her head a little, hiding a smile. "Yes, you're right. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Steam and heat helps," G'Kar said after a moment. "There is a vessel of water over there -- but I ... have not quite decided whether to go get it."
"Ah." Delenn rose swiftly. He heard her moving around. At one point there was a stifled exclamation as she tripped on something.
"You can turn the lights up," G'Kar said.
"No, I expect you have them down for a reason." He heard her bumping around as she figured out the controls on the Narn-style appliances. Then the smell of lightly herbed steam wafted towards him, and after a moment Delenn reappeared carrying a large vessel of steaming water.
"Is this a suitable temperature? I wasn't sure."
"It's perfect." He dipped his arm, let out a long sigh of relief as most of the sloughing skin from wrist to shoulder finally released itself. "Now you might wish to leave," he added with a slight, wry smile. "This is the part that those of other races find most unpleasant, I believe."
"I've endured much worse for lesser causes," Delenn remarked. She smiled back. "I will leave if you want. But -- I can see that having someone nearby to fetch you things might be useful. Have you eaten?" She frowned. "Or do you eat during your molt?"
"No, not usually. But I am near the end of it." He was starting to feel the stirrings of biological functions resuming, he realized -- part of what was making him feel so ill and cranky. Normally the molt was a brief period of six to twelve human hours or so. This had been going on for days. No wonder he was feeling the effects so severely.
"Well, then, if you don't mind me being here, I can certainly stay for a little while. Is there anything else you need?"
The thing he needed most, he was reluctant to ask for, but necessity overcame pride. "On my back ... I am having great difficulty detaching the skin there. If you do not wish to touch it, I completely understand. But I cannot reach ..."
He trailed off again, hating that he had to ask this. But Delenn had already moved around to his back.
"Do I need to worry about hurting you?"
"No," he said. It would hurt, but it would also be a relief at this point, just to get rid of the damned itching and the bound-up feeling.
"Is that what this knife is for?"
"Yes," he said, gazing straight ahead. Letting someone else at his back with a knife felt impossibly wrong. Terrifying. A leap of faith he could not have imagined taking just a year ago. "It will ooze a bit, and it may bleed a little. I apologize. That's normal." Actually, it wasn't -- the bleeding, anyway -- but at this point, the important thing was getting it off.
It was very strange to feel someone else doing this to him -- the tugging, the sharp bolts of pain that he steeled himself against. He twisted his head around to see Delenn concentrating, not looking upset or disgusted at all, merely intent. And then suddenly there was a powerful feeling of release, of letting go, and as she pulled away a great double handful of stuck shed skin, he nearly went weak in relief.
"That is better?" Delenn asked. She looked around and found the large basket he had been using for castoffs.
"Much better." The relief must have come through in his voice, because she smiled. The success of the molting process was accompanied by a flood of the Narn equivalent of oxytocin and endorphins, so his mood was starting to even out as Delenn carefully peeled more of the stuck shed skin. Sometimes her hand accidentally brushed the sensitive new skin underneath, giving him a little jolt of surprise each time, but even that couldn't bother him too much right now. He felt relaxed and pleased and all-over good.
"I believe that is most of it," Delenn said. "I may need to -- er -- use your sink to wash, if you don't mind."
"Yes, of course. Please use anything you like. I'm sorry for the fluids."
"It is no trouble, really."
She rose and went to clean up, returning shortly with a couple of towels which she placed against his back. He might as well have told her there was no need; by now the new skin would be fully sealed and beginning to harden into the typical leathery outer layer of a Narn epidermis. But it was thoughtful.
Sitting back, Delenn asked, "If it is not impertinent to ask, what do you do next?"
"I am almost finished with the molt now. In an hour or two, I will be ravenous. It's traditional to break our molting fast afterwards with family and friends." Very close friends or close relatives only. Narns in the molting time were extremely vulnerable, not just physically but emotionally as well; the process left them open, affectionate, a state that they did not like to be seen in by non-family. He could think of very few people, Narn or otherwise, who he would be comfortable enjoying the post-molting meal with.
But Delenn, he thought, just might be one of those people.
"If you do not mind waiting, I would be pleased if you would like to join me," he said.
A slow, bright smile spread across her face. "I have not eaten yet this evening. I would be honored."
(A year later on Centauri Prime)
"What in the name of the gods are you doing in there? You cannot monopolize our only bathroom like this."
"The suite may have only one bathroom, but I expect the palace has several hundred," G'Kar retorted, slouching lower in the enormous bathtub. "Go use one of them and leave me alone."
He had already been through several changes of water. Really, doing this on a planet, even this particular planet, was much easier and more comfortable than on a space station that had nothing but a sonic shower. Also, while he normally found the Centauri fondness for perfumes and scented lotions an absurd affectation, it turned out that using them on himself in this state was quite nice. He might have to import a few to Babylon 5.
"You've been in there for the better part of the day. Are you ill?"
"You will be if you come in here," G'Kar snapped.
Londo, unfortunately, had never met a "no" that he couldn't ignore. So the door promptly opened, Londo waved the lights up, followed by a horrified exclamation of "Great Maker! What is the matter with you?"
G'Kar hurriedly waved the lights down again. "I literally told you I was molting. I told you that this morning. Don't turn the lights too bright, it's uncomfortable and bad for the new skin."
"I thought you were joking!" Londo protested, rotating away with his hand over his eyes.
"You don't know that Narns shed their skins? Why does this not surprise me. It is only a basic fact of our biology."
"Well, I'd heard that you do," Londo said, still with his hand over his eyes. "I thought it was -- a rude joke. A stereotype." Indignation crept into his voice. "And you are doing it in my bathtub? That I bathe in?"
"I could be doing it in your bed, that you sleep in," G'Kar retorted. "Consider yourself lucky."
This had the completely undesired effect of Londo taking his hand away from his eyes to give G'Kar a look of disgusted offense. "You had better not."
"It's growing more tempting by the moment. Don't you have papers to sign, obnoxious Centauri to meet with?"
The only thing that happened was that Londo came over and crouched down beside the bathtub.
"Or you could decide to be underfoot the entire time. That's also a choice you could make. You understand that this is a private biological function for us, don't you?" At least Londo had minded his admonishment about the lights. G'Kar had also found a few scented candles earlier and placed them along the edge of the bathtub. He supposed that since Londo was being thoughtful-ish about the lights, "accidentally" using one of them to set Londo's hair on fire was probably not appropriate.
"Does that hurt?" Londo asked, now completely fascinated.
"Do Centauri have any concept of privacy whatsoever? Yes, it hurts, it hurts terribly, this is why our pain tolerance is so high." Actually, it was just mild itching at this point. The warm water helped hugely. At this point he had sloughed the skin on his torso -- the part that had given him so much trouble a year ago; he had healed almost entirely since then -- and it was just his limbs that were still peeling the dead epidermis. Between the hot water, the lotion, and the relief of getting most of the dead skin off, he was flooded in enough happymaking body hormones that he couldn't even get that annoyed at Londo's persistent Londo-ness.
"This seems ... unpleasant," Londo said.
G'Kar raised an arm and waved it in front of his face, dangling shreds of skin and all, for the pure pleasure of seeing him recoil. "Make yourself useful and go order us some food. I plan to be in here for another hour or so, and then I'm going to be starving."
"Really? Am I your servant now?"
"If you had more important duties, you should have gone and done them, rather than bothering people who are trying to molt in peace."
Londo straightened up and looked down at him with a highly entertaining expression, somewhere in the intersection of annoyance, amusement, and mild disgust. "Is there anything in particular you're hungry for, since apparently I am providing your food service now?"
"Those little things we had last night, the roasted things wrapped in leaves. Those were excellent, go get some."
"Little roasted things. Fine. I shall order the little roasted things. By which I presume you mean the toulaka, not that you can be bothered to remember the name of it."
As Londo left, G'Kar called after him, "And some of those sweet rolls, with the white and pink stripes."
"Yes, your majesty," Londo retorted, bowing himself sarcastically out the door and, thankfully, shutting it.
G'Kar leaned forward to turn the tap and pour more hot water over himself, wondering if Londo realized that offering to share a meal with someone after the molting was a profound gesture of trust. Since Londo hadn't even known about the molt, he doubted it. At the moment, given Londo's behavior, G'Kar figured Londo hadn't earned that knowledge yet.
Maybe he would tell him eventually.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Babylon 5 (TV 1993)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Delenn & G'Kar (Babylon 5), G'Kar & Londo Mollari
Characters: G'Kar (Babylon 5), Delenn (Babylon 5), Londo Mollari
Additional Tags: Developing Friendships, Alien Biology
Summary: Narns have to molt occasionally. This isn't a problem for G'Kar until Cartagia. (From a prompt at Tumblr.)
Well, I can honestly say that in 25 years of writing fanfic, I had never written a character molting before, prior to this.
The prompt
was this:
Prompt: G'Kar's first molt after Cartagia is made more difficult by some of the deeper scars. Hurt/comfort, scene partner any?Fic is cross-posted under the cut.
The Narn molt was normally a private, contemplative time. Like other natural bodily functions among many races, it was considered a bit embarrassing, something one wouldn't normally do in public. And it left a person in a weakened, vulnerable state as the new skin hardened, a further reason why at home on Narn, it would normally be done in private, among family.
But it had never been painful before.
The damnable Centauri. Curse them. G'Kar supposed it would have been less of a problem if he hadn't been so close to a molt before his torture at Cartagia's hands. And sometimes periods of extreme stress or illness could trigger a molt anyway, as it was the body's natural way of repairing damage, so this might have been inevitable once he had a chance to rest and his body began to heal.
So now he was in the middle of the most painful and unpleasant molt of his life. The main problem was that the skin did not want to detach around the newly formed scar tissue from Cartagia's little games. So he had to tear or cut it free. And he could not reach some parts of his body, especially on his back. He had met Narns who had had similar things happen during the Centauri occupation and the war. The old scar tissue, bound up in knots with skin that would not detach, could form incredibly unsightly deformations and even disability, requiring surgery to correct.
He had let it be known that he was ill, and assumed that it would be left at that. He was not regularly in the habit of receiving visitors during illness. Narns of course knew to leave a molting Narn alone. But he had forgotten that the situation was different now. He had -- friends. Of other races.
So of course his door chimed, and it turned out to be Delenn.
"I am indisposed," he said shortly, without opening it.
"I know. I came by to see if it was anything serious, and if you perhaps needed something brought by? I could pick you up a food item, or something from the Zocalo."
Somewhat to his surprise, it was company that he craved more than anything else. Molting was a private process, but during a difficult or unpleasant molt, it made it easier to have family or close friends nearby, the only people that any Narn would trust to be with them during this uncomfortable and vulnerable time.
He thought about sending her away.
But of everyone he knew, he supposed Delenn would understand. He had been mostly off the station during the time when Delenn went through her own transformation, and he didn't know her well then -- didn't know anyone well, yet, as he'd made few efforts, in those early days, to extend a hand of friendship to members of other species.
So, yes, Delenn might understand. He did not want to go to the medbay. But he might need help.
"Enter," he said quietly. "I should warn you, the sight you will see is not a pleasant one. But I can assure you that what ails me is not contagious to other races."
Delenn stepped inside. He had the lights down so low that it probably looked quite dark to her, with nothing but a dim reddish glow illuminating his quarters; bright light would be painful, and perhaps detrimental to the newly formed skin. He saw her looking around, getting her bearings, finding him eventually. He had made himself a pile of blankets on the floor, where he did not have to deal with getting on and off the bed.
"It seems serious," Delenn said carefully. She crouched beside him, showing no disgust, but keeping a slight distance. "Should I consult Dr. Franklin?"
"No," G'Kar said, discomfort making him slightly snappish. On top of being painful, it was also itchy. "This is a normal process for us. It just does not normally take this long."
"Oh," she said. "I've heard of the Narn molt. I never expected to see it. I know less than I would like of Narn ways, but I am aware that you do not like others to be present. Would you prefer me to leave?"
In his present irritable state, it was all he could do not to roll his eye. "Delenn, if I wanted you to leave, I would have asked you to leave, not come in."
Delenn bowed her head a little, hiding a smile. "Yes, you're right. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Steam and heat helps," G'Kar said after a moment. "There is a vessel of water over there -- but I ... have not quite decided whether to go get it."
"Ah." Delenn rose swiftly. He heard her moving around. At one point there was a stifled exclamation as she tripped on something.
"You can turn the lights up," G'Kar said.
"No, I expect you have them down for a reason." He heard her bumping around as she figured out the controls on the Narn-style appliances. Then the smell of lightly herbed steam wafted towards him, and after a moment Delenn reappeared carrying a large vessel of steaming water.
"Is this a suitable temperature? I wasn't sure."
"It's perfect." He dipped his arm, let out a long sigh of relief as most of the sloughing skin from wrist to shoulder finally released itself. "Now you might wish to leave," he added with a slight, wry smile. "This is the part that those of other races find most unpleasant, I believe."
"I've endured much worse for lesser causes," Delenn remarked. She smiled back. "I will leave if you want. But -- I can see that having someone nearby to fetch you things might be useful. Have you eaten?" She frowned. "Or do you eat during your molt?"
"No, not usually. But I am near the end of it." He was starting to feel the stirrings of biological functions resuming, he realized -- part of what was making him feel so ill and cranky. Normally the molt was a brief period of six to twelve human hours or so. This had been going on for days. No wonder he was feeling the effects so severely.
"Well, then, if you don't mind me being here, I can certainly stay for a little while. Is there anything else you need?"
The thing he needed most, he was reluctant to ask for, but necessity overcame pride. "On my back ... I am having great difficulty detaching the skin there. If you do not wish to touch it, I completely understand. But I cannot reach ..."
He trailed off again, hating that he had to ask this. But Delenn had already moved around to his back.
"Do I need to worry about hurting you?"
"No," he said. It would hurt, but it would also be a relief at this point, just to get rid of the damned itching and the bound-up feeling.
"Is that what this knife is for?"
"Yes," he said, gazing straight ahead. Letting someone else at his back with a knife felt impossibly wrong. Terrifying. A leap of faith he could not have imagined taking just a year ago. "It will ooze a bit, and it may bleed a little. I apologize. That's normal." Actually, it wasn't -- the bleeding, anyway -- but at this point, the important thing was getting it off.
It was very strange to feel someone else doing this to him -- the tugging, the sharp bolts of pain that he steeled himself against. He twisted his head around to see Delenn concentrating, not looking upset or disgusted at all, merely intent. And then suddenly there was a powerful feeling of release, of letting go, and as she pulled away a great double handful of stuck shed skin, he nearly went weak in relief.
"That is better?" Delenn asked. She looked around and found the large basket he had been using for castoffs.
"Much better." The relief must have come through in his voice, because she smiled. The success of the molting process was accompanied by a flood of the Narn equivalent of oxytocin and endorphins, so his mood was starting to even out as Delenn carefully peeled more of the stuck shed skin. Sometimes her hand accidentally brushed the sensitive new skin underneath, giving him a little jolt of surprise each time, but even that couldn't bother him too much right now. He felt relaxed and pleased and all-over good.
"I believe that is most of it," Delenn said. "I may need to -- er -- use your sink to wash, if you don't mind."
"Yes, of course. Please use anything you like. I'm sorry for the fluids."
"It is no trouble, really."
She rose and went to clean up, returning shortly with a couple of towels which she placed against his back. He might as well have told her there was no need; by now the new skin would be fully sealed and beginning to harden into the typical leathery outer layer of a Narn epidermis. But it was thoughtful.
Sitting back, Delenn asked, "If it is not impertinent to ask, what do you do next?"
"I am almost finished with the molt now. In an hour or two, I will be ravenous. It's traditional to break our molting fast afterwards with family and friends." Very close friends or close relatives only. Narns in the molting time were extremely vulnerable, not just physically but emotionally as well; the process left them open, affectionate, a state that they did not like to be seen in by non-family. He could think of very few people, Narn or otherwise, who he would be comfortable enjoying the post-molting meal with.
But Delenn, he thought, just might be one of those people.
"If you do not mind waiting, I would be pleased if you would like to join me," he said.
A slow, bright smile spread across her face. "I have not eaten yet this evening. I would be honored."
(A year later on Centauri Prime)
"What in the name of the gods are you doing in there? You cannot monopolize our only bathroom like this."
"The suite may have only one bathroom, but I expect the palace has several hundred," G'Kar retorted, slouching lower in the enormous bathtub. "Go use one of them and leave me alone."
He had already been through several changes of water. Really, doing this on a planet, even this particular planet, was much easier and more comfortable than on a space station that had nothing but a sonic shower. Also, while he normally found the Centauri fondness for perfumes and scented lotions an absurd affectation, it turned out that using them on himself in this state was quite nice. He might have to import a few to Babylon 5.
"You've been in there for the better part of the day. Are you ill?"
"You will be if you come in here," G'Kar snapped.
Londo, unfortunately, had never met a "no" that he couldn't ignore. So the door promptly opened, Londo waved the lights up, followed by a horrified exclamation of "Great Maker! What is the matter with you?"
G'Kar hurriedly waved the lights down again. "I literally told you I was molting. I told you that this morning. Don't turn the lights too bright, it's uncomfortable and bad for the new skin."
"I thought you were joking!" Londo protested, rotating away with his hand over his eyes.
"You don't know that Narns shed their skins? Why does this not surprise me. It is only a basic fact of our biology."
"Well, I'd heard that you do," Londo said, still with his hand over his eyes. "I thought it was -- a rude joke. A stereotype." Indignation crept into his voice. "And you are doing it in my bathtub? That I bathe in?"
"I could be doing it in your bed, that you sleep in," G'Kar retorted. "Consider yourself lucky."
This had the completely undesired effect of Londo taking his hand away from his eyes to give G'Kar a look of disgusted offense. "You had better not."
"It's growing more tempting by the moment. Don't you have papers to sign, obnoxious Centauri to meet with?"
The only thing that happened was that Londo came over and crouched down beside the bathtub.
"Or you could decide to be underfoot the entire time. That's also a choice you could make. You understand that this is a private biological function for us, don't you?" At least Londo had minded his admonishment about the lights. G'Kar had also found a few scented candles earlier and placed them along the edge of the bathtub. He supposed that since Londo was being thoughtful-ish about the lights, "accidentally" using one of them to set Londo's hair on fire was probably not appropriate.
"Does that hurt?" Londo asked, now completely fascinated.
"Do Centauri have any concept of privacy whatsoever? Yes, it hurts, it hurts terribly, this is why our pain tolerance is so high." Actually, it was just mild itching at this point. The warm water helped hugely. At this point he had sloughed the skin on his torso -- the part that had given him so much trouble a year ago; he had healed almost entirely since then -- and it was just his limbs that were still peeling the dead epidermis. Between the hot water, the lotion, and the relief of getting most of the dead skin off, he was flooded in enough happymaking body hormones that he couldn't even get that annoyed at Londo's persistent Londo-ness.
"This seems ... unpleasant," Londo said.
G'Kar raised an arm and waved it in front of his face, dangling shreds of skin and all, for the pure pleasure of seeing him recoil. "Make yourself useful and go order us some food. I plan to be in here for another hour or so, and then I'm going to be starving."
"Really? Am I your servant now?"
"If you had more important duties, you should have gone and done them, rather than bothering people who are trying to molt in peace."
Londo straightened up and looked down at him with a highly entertaining expression, somewhere in the intersection of annoyance, amusement, and mild disgust. "Is there anything in particular you're hungry for, since apparently I am providing your food service now?"
"Those little things we had last night, the roasted things wrapped in leaves. Those were excellent, go get some."
"Little roasted things. Fine. I shall order the little roasted things. By which I presume you mean the toulaka, not that you can be bothered to remember the name of it."
As Londo left, G'Kar called after him, "And some of those sweet rolls, with the white and pink stripes."
"Yes, your majesty," Londo retorted, bowing himself sarcastically out the door and, thankfully, shutting it.
G'Kar leaned forward to turn the tap and pour more hot water over himself, wondering if Londo realized that offering to share a meal with someone after the molting was a profound gesture of trust. Since Londo hadn't even known about the molt, he doubted it. At the moment, given Londo's behavior, G'Kar figured Londo hadn't earned that knowledge yet.
Maybe he would tell him eventually.
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I just went down a minor mental rabbit hole after reading on the wiki that Narns can see into the infrared spectrum, which makes sense of their low-light environment and their texturally variegated, not all that palette-broad fashions in dress and decoration and I feel it can't stretch to built-in thermography because the combat usefulness of that would have come up in the show, but how literally different the world must have looked through G'Kar's one artificial human-designed eye for a while.
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Ohhhhh I never thought about the textual nature of Narn clothing/furnishings relating to the way they see, but that is such a good point! (I have wondered off and on if the general brightness levels of human/Centauri/Minbari interiors are uncomfortable for them - it doesn't seem to be enough to make them visibly uneasy, but G'Kar does keep his quarters set to presumable Narn-normal, so it must be something he notices.)
My assumption has been that their visible spectrum is just a bit shifted into the red/infrared compared to human eyes, but, as you say, not enough to view things thermographically, more like the way that insects and reptiles have a slightly wider visual spectrum than humans do. I hadn't thought about the artificial eye in that sense at all, but that is so fascinating to think about, because you're right, it would be spectrally a bit different than what he's used to. I wonder if he finds himself getting eyestrain from the muscles around the new eye when he's doing close work (writing) at Narn-typical light levels, or if that's something that can be calibrated...
(Odds of fanfic for this: increasing.)
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Yes! I really like that the show has these actual aliennesses of its generally humanoid, so often environmentally/socioculturally compatible, of which Centauri reproduction is probably the most dramatically explored and Minbari intolerance to alcohol apparently the most variant from the digestive norm (it must dictate so much of their foodways—like, if they have leavened bread, it can't be made with yeast). I like that you have noted the lights thing in your fic.
My assumption has been that their visible spectrum is just a bit shifted into the red/infrared compared to human eyes, but, as you say, not enough to view things thermographically, more like the way that insects and reptiles have a slightly wider visual spectrum than humans do.
Frustratingly, I believe the only time we get subjective camera from G'Kar is not actually helpful to this question, as he is off his face on Dust at the time and everything just looks weird.
(Odds of fanfic for this: increasing.)
(Oh, dear.)
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And we do love it. But yes! I love that the aliens are biologically alien - and they all have something like that, the Narn pouches and other attributes (like their extra physical toughness) being another example. I also wonder about the tossed-off but never really explored comment that Centauri can't eat fast food (at least without digestive consequences) - like, what does that MEAN, does all their food have to be fresh, is it some kind of preservative that humans use that they're intolerant of? Clearly aged spoo is fine. TELL ME MOOOOOORE.
I like that you have noted the lights thing in your fic.
Thank you! <3 It is one of the more noticeable differences between the environments they prefer. I would love to have seen more suggestions in the show of the different species bending to accommodate each other's biological differences, though we do get that now and then with Delenn and Sheridan.
Minbari intolerance to alcohol apparently the most variant from the digestive norm (it must dictate so much of their foodways—like, if they have leavened bread, it can't be made with yeast)
Possibly! Although I'm not sure if I would necessarily assume that it's all fermentation, or at least it doesn't have to be. After all, there are humans who can't have alcohol for one reason or another, but can tolerate bread. It's possible that cooked is fine; it's also possible that it's byproducts of certain kinds of yeast that produce the specific combination of molecules they can't tolerate. If it really is any alcohol, it would make dealing with any kind of human food an absolute minefield for them - although maybe it is! It's clear that Minbari food is very different, and differently handled; it's possible that a species whose food can easily develop a potent natural toxin if prepared incorrectly have a similar set of restrictions around it to the ones humans have to avoid food poisoning.
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Maybe it's the frying? Which is not obligatory, but really popular in street/fast food.
I would love to have seen more suggestions in the show of the different species bending to accommodate each other's biological differences, though we do get that now and then with Delenn and Sheridan.
Agreed. And Londo commenting on the quality of the light in G'Kar's quarters, which G'Kar makes absolutely no effort to adjust for him.
Although I'm not sure if I would necessarily assume that it's all fermentation, or at least it doesn't have to be.
I don't assume it's all fermentation! I thought of yeast because it produces ethanol and because it doesn't all bake out of the bread. If Minbari can't tolerate even trace amounts, they should still be just fine with all the lactic acid fermentations that produce pickles and yogurt and garum. It's also possible they just leaven their breads with the local equivalent of baking powder, which on our planet came into existence as an analogue for yeast and on Minbar might have been invented out of boredom.
It's clear that Minbari food is very different, and differently handled; it's possible that a species whose food can easily develop a potent natural toxin if prepared incorrectly have a similar set of restrictions around it to the ones humans have to avoid food poisoning.
Honestly, I'd buy that.
[edit] Per the wiki, flarn as a recipe is supposed to have been invented by Valen and I would love to know what Sinclair was trying to recreate. Tofu? Cheese cubes? Jell-O?
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I could see it! In the same conversation, IIRC, Londo also mentions having sent Vir to the market for fresh food because there's nothing around, which also makes me think they may have some problem with preservatives or some kind of food preparation or storage method that's relatively common for humans.
If Minbari can't tolerate even trace amounts, they should still be just fine with all the lactic acid fermentations that produce pickles and yogurt and garum.
That makes sense!
Per the wiki, flarn as a recipe is supposed to have been invented by Valen and I would love to know what Sinclair was trying to recreate. Tofu? Cheese cubes? Jell-O?
AMAZING. I love the idea of Sinclair trying to make something he's homesick for - say, cheese - with Minbari ingredients, and accidentally coming up with something that is almost but not completely unlike cheese, which the Minbari then go absolutely nuts for.
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That's a good point. The whole topic of fast food comes up because Londo asks what Vir is even eating if there isn't anything fresh laid in (and the answer is: food he can't really eat, because Vir is relatably terrible at what the humans would call self-care). I had seen your mention of preservatives in "The Bodyguard Protocol" and hadn't been sure if it was canonical or your extrapolation, but I like it. It would also fit with the tradition of assassination by poison which Londo mentions to Refa (right after reviving it on him): if all meals have to be prepared more or less from scratch, always that point of vulnerability.
I love the idea of Sinclair trying to make something he's homesick for - say, cheese - with Minbari ingredients, and accidentally coming up with something that is almost but not completely unlike cheese, which the Minbari then go absolutely nuts for.
No one is going to be able to persuade me otherwise.
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Yeah, it was pure extrapolation/headcanon, based almost entirely on that one conversation in canon. But I also think it fits! We don't really know a whole lot about various species' food preferences, but I do tend to think of Narns as having a wider range of different kinds of foods they can eat and tolerate than Centauri, which probably makes their food a bit of a gamble for a Centauri visitor (but Londo has enough experience at galactic travel to know that).
(And yeah, hopefully either Vir's self-care skills improve by the time he's living on the station alone, or he gets himself an aide whose skill set includes managing his diet. It is interesting to find out that having to essentially keep house for Londo is good for him as well, in the sense that it stops him from living the Centauri equivalent of a bargain basement bachelor lifestyle.)
It would also fit with the tradition of assassination by poison which Londo mentions to Refa (right after reviving it on him): if all meals have to be prepared more or less from scratch, always that point of vulnerability.
And that is a good point as well!
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It's good! Keep it! It plays well into the whole truly-civilized shtick of the Centauri, too, since food taboos are a primary definition of civilization.
We don't really know a whole lot about various species' food preferences, but I do tend to think of Narns as having a wider range of different kinds of foods they can eat and tolerate than Centauri, which probably makes their food a bit of a gamble for a Centauri visitor (but Londo has enough experience at galactic travel to know that).
I am inclined to agree with your read on Narns and food, if only because of that third-season scene where G'Kar is cheerfully eating Swedish meatballs.
It is interesting to find out that having to essentially keep house for Londo is good for him as well, in the sense that it stops him from living the Centauri equivalent of a bargain basement bachelor lifestyle.
Yeah. I like to think that as part of growing into his own power, he learned to cook for himself.