[milliways] Through The Looking Glass

[dejah_thoris]

 [After this.]

Dejah wakes and eats her breakfast on the terrace, looking out over the city.  When she's done, she finds herself pacing the floor, waiting for the door to Milliways to show up again.

The moment the sun hits the far wall, it reappears in a shimmer of dust motes. Dejah smiles with relief.  She grabs up the copper-clad box with the data crystals, and a few of her notebooks.  She starts over the threshold, and at the last moment, she whirls around and grabs Curtis's hat off her pillow.

The whole place is bustling, so she looks for him in his usual place at the bar.

Comments

[dejah_thoris]

His deadpan delivery doesn't spare him the wicked little grin that rises at his comment.

"You will be able to speak to them, but what they hear may not be what you actually said. Their mind will fill in the appropriate details, you see. But I am not the only person who will know you are there. I have told Kantos you are coming, and he is looking forward to meeting you."

[2goodarms]

"Kantos?"

Dejah, please say that's not Barsoomian for 'dad' or 'mom.'

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah nods. "Jedwar Kantos Kan, admiral of Helium's navy, and an old friend. I trust him." She takes a larger bite of pancake, chews for a moment. "John trusted him. And if something happens, I want him to know, so he can protect you."

She looks up at him through her eyelashes.

[2goodarms]

Dejah's trust in Kantos matters a lot more to him than John's. Curtis has actually met Dejah, for one.

He reverts to toying with his food again, rolling another chunk of pancake between his fingers. "All right," he says. Lighter, "I'll try to make a better impression on him than I made on Tars."

For instance: not trying to leave an impression of a dinner knife in anyone's stomach.

(Even though he still maintains that was totally self-defense, X.)

[dejah_thoris]

Idly, she offered him another piece of pancake, just as before. Perhaps a larger bite.

"I'm not worried about it," she says. "Kantos is much less prone to violent outbursts. And I've told him about us. He understands."

He understands that Curtis makes her happy, and that's all he really needs to know.

[2goodarms]

Like before, he hesitates; unlike before, he moves with more surety when he finally leans to taste the bite of food between her fingers, head down, pressing shoulder-to-shoulder with her.

"He's okay with this?" Faint surprise colors his word. "Even without all that formal suit shit?"

[dejah_thoris]

"'That formal suit shit'," she says, the edge in her voice playful, but pointed nonetheless, "is what ensures that a Jeddak's time and energy is not wasted dallying with faithless pretenders. A Jeddak marries for love or not at all. That is not to say there haven't been Jeddaks who keep both consorts and concubines, but they are not remembered with anything resembling fondness."

Her shoulder rests against his, easy as breathing. "And yes, to answer your question, he is okay with it. Because he knows me, and he knows I would never forsake Helium for the pleasure of a simple bed companion."

[2goodarms]

Curtis shakes his head. Front-sectioners, he finds himself thinking again, wearily. Always worried about who's out to steal the power they've managed to grab. Guess it's all one great big cycle of stealing and grabbing and taking, no matter where you are -- the only difference is that she's got more to spare than someone like him.

(He sees Wilford's smile, for a beat. The pancakes abruptly taste too cloying.)

When he recognizes his next thought -- good thing she can't hear my thoughts yet -- Curtis stills against her shoulder. He draws in a careful breath, exhales just as carefully.

"Guess that means I gotta take the Voice of Barsoom then, huh."

[dejah_thoris]

She's quiet for a long moment, several of her own thoughts clicking through like the beads on a counting frame. First, that he has no idea what a formal suit for her hand means; second, that he does not begin to realize the faith she's put in him; third, she finds she doesn't care, as long as he keeps putting one foot in front of the other. She must have faith in her own heart.

When she speaks, her voice is quieter, more solemn. "If you want to come to Helium, then yes. You will need to take the Voice of Barsoom."

[2goodarms]

Curtis nods. He studies the box of food; then, still moving with great care, turns to look at Dejah.

It's like picking up that cookie, the noise of the bar flowing around him, Dejah pressed close beside him. Two directions: forward, or back. And he sure as hell doesn't want to go back.




"You still got that dose Bar gave you?"

[dejah_thoris]

She meets his gaze, her own expression soft, searching. She catches his hand in hers, lacing her fingers through his.

"I do. But only if you're sure."

[2goodarms]

He shrugs, mustering up a smile. "I have to do it sometime, right?"

And no time like the present. Or something.

[dejah_thoris]

She peers at him, not moving to retrieve it yet.

"You're worried about something. Tell me?"

[2goodarms]

Curtis starts to shake his head, then pauses for a long beat.

"You said it's...like telepathy," he starts. "How much like it?"

He has to tell her. He will, someday. But god, no matter how tight a leash he puts on that memory, he can never tell when it'll slip loose to bite him. Dejah can't find out that way.

[dejah_thoris]

The tension goes out of her shoulders and she leans against him. She pulls his hand up and brushes a kiss across his knuckles. Her voice is gentle and she tries to explain without sounding patronizing.

"It is a very mild form of telepathy. Those who have it can sense the intention, the true meaning of a person's words. And only the very surface of your thoughts, if you so desire. Your deeper unconscious mind, no, that is not on display for the whole world to see."

[2goodarms]

His shoulders sag in unconscious counterpoint. Curtis frees his hand from hers so he can drape his arm around her.

"So..." Slowly, as he works to fit the new information into a context he understands. "More like you can read my emotions, not my thoughts. Sort of."

That's...he can work with that. Yeah.

[dejah_thoris]

"Yes, though only the top notes." She can't help herself; she turns into him, her nose finding that soft spot just under his jaw. She nuzzles, gentle, breathing him in.

"Over time, the connection -- it deepens between lovers."

[2goodarms]

Curtis closes his eyes, humming low in his throat at the touch.

"Yeah? How long does that take?" he murmurs.

[dejah_thoris]

Her hand steals around his neck, urges his head down to hers. Another moment stolen, another breath, another sweet kiss against the delicate skin of at the side of his throat.

"That depends on the lovers."

[2goodarms]

His breath catches; "Fuck, Dejah," he whispers before he can stop himself, and he turns to capture her mouth in a proper kiss, hand curling into her hair.

The worries fade, the conversation forgotten for this brief instant. No tension any more; just the feel of his blood thrumming hot under his skin, the sense of being very much alive.

[dejah_thoris]

A breathless whimper catches in her throat, and she sinks into him, letting him feel the heat and hunger he raises in her. She's thrumming with energy, feeling like a bow being drawn across the horizon, and she wonders just what this will feel like after he takes the Voice of Barsoom.

He has to know how she feels already, doesn't he? Has she held too much of herself back? Is he blind to what he does to her?

She deepens the kiss, needing to make it clear before he drinks and she lays her heart on the table between them.

[2goodarms]

He takes what she gives, eagerly, meeting her breath for breath, feeling her heart race alongside his as he presses closer. His fingers tangle tighter in her hair, a near-involuntary clutch as the heat builds between them.

He knows. He couldn't miss it.

When his lungs start to burn, he pulls back in a quick shiver of movement as he works to catch his breath.

[dejah_thoris]

She rests her brow against his, nose to nose, eyes closed. Trembling. Trying to remember how to breathe at all.

"Let me.. Just..  It's in my desk." The flask, she means. A dry little laugh bubbles up. "It's going to make you a little light-headed. A little flushed."

She still isn't moving to retrieve it.

[2goodarms]

"Yeah," he breathes. "Okay. Sounds, uh, sounds good."

Funny: he's not making any overtures toward letting her go, either.

[dejah_thoris]

She is such a fool, she thinks. But sweet holy mother, he is worth it.

"I have to..." She pulls back just a little. "There will be more of this." She closes her eyes and tips her head back into his hand, just for a moment. And then she's shifting away.

"Be right back."