[Part of her knows this: that Sleep only reacted the way she did because Kalmiya's actions might have made a difference. That Sleep wants to fully possess One and all others in her garden. And that Kalmiya did the right thing, standing up for herself. Standing up for One.
It just doesn't feel right. Nothing feels right. Nothing except the brush of Sharon's knuckle across her tear-streaked face and the gentle line that Arthur's thumb traces on her neck. They are all that anchor her to the present moment, all that prevents her being swept by the riptide into other times she has felt so raw, so empty. The prickly compulsion to hide her face as Arthur tries to meet her eyes is unbearable—and responded to by the volatility of her body, a heat-mirage shimmer rippling over her form, disrupting the sight of her like a reflection vanishing on the disturbed surface of the water.
It's not subtle, but it lasts only a moment, only as long as the wave takes to sweep her head to toe before she's whole again. But again there is the sense of shrinking, of retreat, as she tries to find a hiding spot within the nonjudgmental embrace of Sharon's tether. Quietly, though, she nods—without even a remark about Arthur's taste in comforters.
It's as she's forcing her hold on Sharon to relax so she can be led that she unsticks her tongue, tentative and small, a question for them both.] ...do you...have somewhere else you need to be?
[ For just a moment, a familiar distortion ripples through Kalmiya's silhouette, like heat warping the air, bending the light to blur her shape. It feels instinctive, her body reacting before thought can catch up. Their tether is still too fresh for Sharon to grasp the full reason behind it. Kalmiya's emotions register like distant lights on the horizon, their colors and shapes visible, but softened by haze, as if felt through fog.
Then, just as quickly, it's gone.
Arthur's comment, clearly an inside joke between the two of them, earns no quip in return, not even a playful curve of Kalmiya's lips. It only highlights the damage that's been done. She's trying not to drown in it. Still, she loosens her hold on Sharon, just a fraction, just enough, and finds the will to ask something she shouldn't have to ask, something she should already know the answer to. ]
Fuck, no. [ The words spill out instantly, her voice cracking, pitching too high for how raw her throat is. It isn't even a question worth considering. Between her physical state, the bone-deep exhaustion that makes her feel like a dead girl walking, and Kalmiya herself, there's no way she's leaving. ]
I'm here until you kick me out. [ And even then, she'd probably hole up nearby, waiting to be called back. Kalmiya sat with her through her worst, offered her love freely while Sharon choked on guilt and terror. Sharon is here to return the favor. To be an anchor until no longer needed. ]
Now, come on. You heard him. [ she urges, gently guiding her through the apartment door. ]
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It just doesn't feel right. Nothing feels right. Nothing except the brush of Sharon's knuckle across her tear-streaked face and the gentle line that Arthur's thumb traces on her neck. They are all that anchor her to the present moment, all that prevents her being swept by the riptide into other times she has felt so raw, so empty. The prickly compulsion to hide her face as Arthur tries to meet her eyes is unbearable—and responded to by the volatility of her body, a heat-mirage shimmer rippling over her form, disrupting the sight of her like a reflection vanishing on the disturbed surface of the water.
It's not subtle, but it lasts only a moment, only as long as the wave takes to sweep her head to toe before she's whole again. But again there is the sense of shrinking, of retreat, as she tries to find a hiding spot within the nonjudgmental embrace of Sharon's tether. Quietly, though, she nods—without even a remark about Arthur's taste in comforters.
It's as she's forcing her hold on Sharon to relax so she can be led that she unsticks her tongue, tentative and small, a question for them both.] ...do you...have somewhere else you need to be?
no subject
Then, just as quickly, it's gone.
Arthur's comment, clearly an inside joke between the two of them, earns no quip in return, not even a playful curve of Kalmiya's lips. It only highlights the damage that's been done. She's trying not to drown in it. Still, she loosens her hold on Sharon, just a fraction, just enough, and finds the will to ask something she shouldn't have to ask, something she should already know the answer to. ]
Fuck, no. [ The words spill out instantly, her voice cracking, pitching too high for how raw her throat is. It isn't even a question worth considering. Between her physical state, the bone-deep exhaustion that makes her feel like a dead girl walking, and Kalmiya herself, there's no way she's leaving. ]
I'm here until you kick me out. [ And even then, she'd probably hole up nearby, waiting to be called back. Kalmiya sat with her through her worst, offered her love freely while Sharon choked on guilt and terror. Sharon is here to return the favor. To be an anchor until no longer needed. ]
Now, come on. You heard him. [ she urges, gently guiding her through the apartment door. ]