dejah_thoris | [milliways] Run Home

Entry tags:

[milliways] Run Home

After their run around the lake was ended by meeting Curtis's unfortunate partner in the whole body swap debacle, Dejah headed back to the room for a good long shower. It was pure indulgence, standing under the hot water for so long, but she was allowed. Here, anyway. She'd be extremely mindful of bringing these bad habits back to Helium with her.

Her mind keeps going over the implications of Curtis having a double here. A doppelganger who is genetically enhanced somehow. Healthy and whole. It makes her wonder if she's not doing enough to make sure he's healing. Replacing the arm was one thing, but an extended period of malnutrition and captivity left other physical scars.

It is all a work in progress, one that will take many years to see gains. Much like the Work back in Helium. She makes a mental note to research the drawings he'd spoken of. If there is any record of all of his time on the train, surely the library here will have it preserved. Maybe something to help Edgar understand the whole picture. Even if he can never forgive, the least he can do is to try to understand it.

She steps out of the shower and towels off, still turning over the human ideals of morality, of fairness and justice. She tries to put the thoughts aside for now, knowing full well, she can easily drive herself mad if she doesn't. Instead, she dries her hair and tries to clear her mind.

And not think about random magical spells that could rip her consciousness from her body and put into another's. Yeah, comforting.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Curtis's eyes drift closed. He follows Dejah into the stillness of the moment, sinking into it like a hammock. It's just them. No fucked-up spells, no worry about what's coming or what came before. Just warmth, and peace, and a quiet relief that undoes a few more knots along his spine.

"I know," he murmurs. He trails one hand over the tie holding her robe in place. "Probably gonna take a few years at least."

Likely more.

She lets out a deep, contented sigh, laying her cheek against his shoulder. Her hands smooth down his back and slip underneath his sweater from beneath to find the small of his back. Her arms tighten around his waist again, a gentle squeeze, but noticeable.

There's a quiet knock at the door and the soft scrape of someone sliding something under it. It's one of the announcements that appears from time to time.

"So what was it like? Being in that body? Anything you'd like to keep? Or, rather, aim for?"

Curtis glances over at the knock, frowning slightly when the paper slips underneath. He's got other things to focus on right now, though; in the next moment, he rests his head atop Dejah's.

"It was really fucking weird," he admits. "I don't..." She can feel his hesitation, and the tiny black threads spinning through each word -- the old, familiar distrust of anything too good, too nice, too Front. "I dunno. I don't think I like looking that good."

A small sigh.

"But I could do all kinds of shit I can't do most of the time. That was nice."

She turns her head, so her nose nestles against the side of his throat. She didn't realize how much she missed his scent.

"Like what?" He can feel the gentle prod in his voice. She needs to know he's not doing it for her.

He fights down another shiver. Gathers his thoughts.

"Everything was..." A few of the threads latch harder onto his voice, as he realizes what he's about to say. "Easy. I wasn't tired, I wasn't sore, I didn't have to pace myself, I could just do it."

She pulls back to look into his face, into his eyes. He has the most beautiful eyes, she thinks.

"You know, it occurs to me, you haven't had a full physical since you've been here." She counters the black threads with ribbons of golden warmth. There's no shame in being healthy, in taking back what was stolen from you.

"Maybe a doctor could help with the aches at least?"

"Maybe," he murmurs, uncertain. "They're not that bad."

It's like the counterpoint to Dejah's touch: he hadn't noticed the impact of all those little aches until they were gone.

"I don't notice 'em most of the time."

"I know. But you are today. And it was nice not to feel them." She rests her palm against his cheek, leans her body weight into him a bit more. "You haven't had access to proper medical care in years, my love. Perhaps it's time to start?"

He remembers arguing in favor of Dejah going to see a doctor for her hand: if you've got access to something that'll make the pain stop, then you should take it.

But this is different. It's just normal pain. What's a doctor going to be able to do for that? He's eating, he's exercising -- he's doing the best he can.

"I'll think about it," he tries, still soft.

She touches her forehead to his again, steals another soft kiss.

"Please do." The word hums with deep affection, and that same silver strand of hope. Hope for their future. For the cabin. For whatever life they're building together.

"I love you," she whispers, the words feathering against his lips.

"I love you too."

The smallest movement, just enough for their lips to meet in another gentle, lingering kiss.

"Also I think we got some mail," he adds, half-laughing.

She pulls back, touching her fingertips to her lips for a brief moment, and nods. She tucks her hair behind her ears and smooths her robe.

"Yes, we do. Hang on, let me see what it is."

Curtis nods. Before he can reach for Dejah again, he forces himself to take a step back. It's not like she's going back to Barsoom -- just to the front door.

(Every so often, he still marvels at how ridiculous this whole situation has gotten: both of them fallen so hard that sometimes, even being ten feet apart is too much. Jesus, this is bad.)

Retreating to the couch, he collapses onto it with a sigh, rotating his left shoulder as he gets used to the feel of his prosthesis again.

"Is it bothering you?" Dejah keeps a hand on the tie of her robe as she bends to pick up the flyer.

"Hmm." She reads as she walks. She settles beside him, tucking her feet up beneath her. "Something about a fire festival? Down by the beach." He can hear the shiver of curiosity running through her words.

"Not really," he says. "Just kinda need to settle back into it."

He peers over her shoulder as he slips an arm around her waist. "Huh. ...'Dressed to the nines?'"

Yeah, that doesn't sound like his kind of party.

She looks up into his face, trying to better gauge his response. Her hand reaches up to touch the junction of metal and flesh, gently, to make sure there's no irritation. Also, just to touch him. Because she can. Because he lets her.

"It says there's music. And dancing." Her eyes flash bright for a moment. "And it's on the beach?"

Curtis eyes her, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Do you want to go?"

She can't help but mirror that smile. She draws her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, thinking about it.

"That depends entirely on you. I mean, do you want to be seen with me? In public? I mean, in an official capacity?"

"I'm seen in public with you all the time," he counters, gently. "And it's not that official, it's just a party."

A fancy party, but still. It's not like they're going back to the palace or anything.

"So yeah, I'm cool with it."

"Oh of course. How silly of me, of course. Of course."

He can feel the rising delight in her, bubbling up from a place of warmth and light.

"Do you think the bar could provide us with something to wear? I mean, I haven't got anything here, and I don't even know if you own something like that. I mean, you don't, obviously. I'm sure she can find something suitable. Not too Front, but nice. And I can do my own hair, I suppose. Goddess, listen to me, babbling on like a fool."

Her joy buoys him up; he's already starting to chuckle before she's even halfway through that ramble. Curtis drops a kiss on her forehead.

"I think it's cute," he says, serene. "Yeah, Bar's got everything, I bet she could loan us a suit and a dress."

Not too Front. Another bubble of relief rises. Nice, but not too stifling. Maybe it'll be good practice for whenever he's doing this shit for real on Barsoom.

She leans into the kiss, laughing under her breath at herself.

"I'm sorry, these things -- in Helium, they are a rather big deal. Being present in public. It would take weeks of preparation. There would be dignitaries from all the city-states. The whole of Helium would grind to a halt for a festival like this."

She takes a deep breath and lets it go. "Are you sure you're all right with this?"

"I'm sure."

It's been...god, probably weeks since he felt this kind of fizzy joy overtake Dejah. They've been dealing with one damn thing after another for way too long. They're overdue for some fun -- even if it's the kind of fun that's going to stick Curtis in a suit.

Straight-faced: "We need to win the shit out of that golden apple."

Edited 2015-11-20 03:35 (UTC)

That gets a full-throated belly laugh from Dejah. "I like this plan, but I have no idea how we're going to do it! Formal dancing on Barsoom is -- very sedate. And the less formal dancing, well..." She wrinkles her nose in a conspiratorial grin.

"It gets a little wild, if I must say."

"Really."

He arches an eyebrow, struggling not to laugh.

"Can you teach me?"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject