“Hey.” A soft voice stretches through yours haze and pulls you up and out. A hand lands on you forehead, stroking softly. “Are you awake?”
You blink your red and blue eyes and sigh. “…Yeah. I can’t sleep,” you admit. You’re cold, and you snuggle closer. Arms embrace you, and a bit of heat floods through your entire body. You could hold onto it forever.
“What’s wrong?” You feel a kiss planted on your forehead, and you smile, the iciness of your body dissipating.
“Nothing…I jutht…I worry.”
There’s a soft laugh. “You worry too much. You should let me do some of that for you every once in a while.”
“You have enough worries of your own. You don’t need mine to weigh you down.”
“It’s what I’m here for.”
You roll over, snuggling deeper into your matesprit’s chest, breathing in the familiar musk and scent of his lean, solid body. You always gravitate towards that center of warmth, of almost blazing body heat. You’re not sure if it’s the mutation that makes him so warm, but you hardly care about the reason. It’s comforting, it’s perfect, and it’s home.
“…How much longer do you think we have?” You say it outright. There’s no real point in trying to mask it. He will drag it out of you either way.
There’s a stiffness in his body then. You feel him shift, lean down, and a kiss is planted atop your head. Your shoulders are rubbed with mindless carelessness; your matesprit’s thoughts are elsewhere.
“Don’t think about that stuff,” he says tightly. “There’s no point to it.”
“I can’t help it. Almost every night I wonder…if it’s…the last time.”
“Don’t do that to yourself.”
“But I can’t…help it….”
“Listen to me.” A soft set of fingertips are beneath your chin, lifting your face up to gaze into beautiful red eyes. “You and I? It doesn’t matter what happens. You and I are going to be together forever, you understand?”
You smile. Neither of you is truly that naïve. Everything ends. Everything dies, sometime.
But you want to believe him.
“One day,” your matesprit says, beginning to stroke slender fingers through your hair, “this will all be over. We’ll change something. We’ll change it enough that trolls can do things on their own, without my help. And when that day comes, even if you and I are old and bent and can barely move, even if it’s our last day alive, you and I will find somewhere where we can be together. Just the two of us, with nothing and no one else to interfere.”
It’s unrealistic to the point of childishness. But that was always the thing you loved about him. He believes things so thoroughly and so hard that he thinks he can change the world just by wanting it badly enough. You wish sometimes that he could.
His fingers in your hair have settled into a nice rhythm, and you let out a noise like a purr, your eyelids growing heavy and content.
“Don’t worry about us,” he tells you, his voice soft. He places another kiss on your head. “I’ll protect you, okay? I promise. As long as I am alive, Psii…as long as I am living and breathing in this world I will never, never leave you.”
You nod. You believe it with your entire heart.
[a closeup on Psiioniic and Signless viewed from above, laying on pillows and a sheet nose-to-nose, the Signless tilting Psiioniic's chin up, both smiling. ]
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“Hey.” A soft voice stretches through your haze and pulls you up and out. A hand lands on your forehead, stroking softly. “Are you awake?”
You blink your flickering red and blue eyes and sigh. “…I can’t sleep,” you say. You’re cold, and you try to move closer. Arms embrace you, and the tiniest spark of heat floods through your entire body. It’s been forever since you felt that.
“What’s wrong?” You feel a kiss planted on your forehead. You shiver.
“Nothing…I jutht…I still worry.”
There’s a soft laugh. “You worry too much. That’s something you should leave to me.”
“You have enough worries of your own. What use do you have for mine?”
“It’s what I’m here for.”
You breathe in the familiar musk and scent of her lithe, muscular body. You don’t think you could ever forget it. You’ve never been quite sure why she’s so cold, whether it’s the fact of her being seatroll or just if it’s a tyrian purple thing. But you hardly care why.
“…How much longer?” You say it bluntly, because there’s no point in trying to hide things that she will discover eventually. You’re tired…so tired. You do not know how long you’ve been alive.
Another kiss is planted atop your head. “Don’t think about it,” she tells you, a smile evident in her tone. “There’s no point to it.”
“I can’t help it. I think about it every day….”
“Don’t do that to yourself.” She strokes your face, tracing your jawline, and you shiver again.
“But I can’t…help…it….”
“Listen to me.” Spidery fingers grasp your head, lifting your face up to gaze into stark fuchsia eyes. “You and I? It doesn’t matter what happens. You and I are going to be together forever, you understand?”
You wonder if she’s really that naïve. Everything ends. Everything dies, sometime.
But somehow you believe her.
“One day,” she says, beginning to stroke slender fingers through your hair, “this will all be over. This will change. I’ll get tired of this, and trolls won’t need me anymore. They’ll be able to live without my help. And when that day comes, even if I’m clinging to the last days of my life, you and I will still be together. I’ll take you with me, and it will be just the two of us, with nothing and no one to interfere.”
It’s unrealistic to the point of childishness. But you’ve come to expect that from her. She believes in her absolute power so much, she thinks she can change the very state of the universe with just a thought. Sometimes you believe that she actually can.
Her fingers in your hair have settled into a rhythm, and you let out a noise like a disgruntled sigh, your eyelids growing heavy. You just want to pretend to sleep again, to get away from her, though you know you cannot.
“Don’t worry about us,” she tells you, her voice soft. She kisses you again. “I’ll protect you, okay? I promise. As long as I am alive, my dear Psiioniic. As long as I live and breathe in this world I will never, ever leave you.”
You nod. You believe it with your entire heart.
[the Condesce smiling at the Helmsman in his fuschia tendrils, who is in the same position as before, but no longer smiling.]
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hso2012_r3s12012-07-24 12:06 am
