Tiktik starts off enthusiastically, “So, the realm of the Twixt is sometimes pretty awesome, sometimes pretty horrible. I already told you guys about the time Littlebit and I faced a vamp, and I accidentally made Bizzy. Little mix of awesome and horrible there. Littlebit didn’t look at me the same for a while after. Kept avoiding my gaze when our eyes met, coughing, looking away. Wasn’t long after that that I left town. I was worried that I spooked her with my feelings, worried that she thought, I dunno, thoughts. Like maybe I used the vampire as an excuse to hold her, or set us up or something. I’d never! I just—. I just worry that she thought that. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, why she kept spending time with me, but couldn’t look me in the eyes anymore. We spent more time together than ever, but, but I don’t know. And then the thing with gramps. Ugh, sorry, I’m getting off topic.”
I nudge Tiktik slightly, trying to signal that she has no need to apologize. I give her a sympathetic frown, a saddened pout to show that I care. It’s hard to measure the right response when I’m attempting to keep my brain off, but I hope she recognizes my intent. I’ve plenty of love for Kitten, and I’m honored to hear her story, any bit of it.
Tiktik sighs, and nestles into my chest momentarily. I can feel her rest her eyes before continuing, “I, um, I really want to tell you this here, out here in meatspace. It, well, it feels like, symbolically, that somehow makes it more real, more, um—. Honest? I’m not sure. It’s hard to explain. I get numbers, and rules, and laws, and things, I can keep track of names, and places, and people. I can say things with, well, omission. I get the way things are supposed to work. It’s part of why I’m good at what I do. I can lie without lying. But, well, I think I’ve done it so much, that I start to worry when I’m trying to be really honest. In a half truth? It just comes out, easy, no pressure, and people believe me, because I’m at least half honest, and I guess that’s good enough most of the time, for most people. But when I really, really want to be a hundred percent honest on an emotional thing, I get scared. Like when I admitted my feelings for Littlebit. Then got shot down. She, she seemed to think it was a joke, a prank at first, then started making excuses.”
My heart aches for Tiktik, as she shares a different story than she intended. She’s building up to it, because she’s emotional about the surrounding tale, the emotional state, the desire to be truthful, and understood as such. I get that. Despite having not had many people to interact with, I really get that.
Tiktik mumbles into my chest, “She, she was like, ‘you don’t mean that, you’re just confused, we’re like sisters.’ After she tried to play it off as a joke, thinking I was kidding. She didn’t like, run away or anything, she sat there, next to me, but she patted my head while it was on her shoulder. I couldn’t think of what to say or do, I just sat there like a zombie. Staring at nothing. A little while later, we were in the Twixt, then boom, vamp, and big darn hero moment, and me standing like an idiot with her in my arms, then things got awkward, then Gramps, then, glp, then I ran away.”
I gulp as well, swallowing, my empathy growing for Kitten as I ride the emotional journey of her tale. I blink several times, my eyes drooping, and opening slower each time. Stray hairs from Tiktik’s lovely ponytail tickle my nose, but both of us are experiencing the drain of an emotional crash. It’s hard to maintain energy levels in chaotic situations, when we’re barely able to take care of ourselves. Worse when we have emotional turmoil heaped on top of all of that. I feel Tiktik’s rhythmic breathing as she passes out with her face resting on my chest, she’s sidled up along the right side of my body, her fluffy robes providing warmth and cushioning, disguising the firmness of her body underneath. Her legs are both draped over my thighs, as she lays in a relative L shape, with her heels tucked up under her tush.
I’m not sure if I want to sleep right now, it feels almost disrespectful to give in, but I’m so drained, and we have competent people working together, to help us continue moving forward. Teuila foremost amongst them. Breathing the minimum to be considered deeply, I sigh, and I repeat it more noticeably as I attempt to breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth. Breathing, relaxation, meditation. I blink slower, and slower.
“Babe? What’s up?” Her voice rouses me from whatever reverie I’d been contemplating.
I flash a smile her way, and stare perhaps a few moments too long at her gorgeous features. Her hair is a magnificently teased, faded undercut. The natural red that has returned is something coppery, leaving her hairtips darkened from the dye she used to wear. The change in tone leaves her wearing the haircut like a fiery halo, a vibrant and colorful adornment that’s alluring, and commanding of attention. The next time she gets it cut, there’ll be no lingering remnants of when she used to dye it.
Her green eyes peer questioningly into mine, and I gaze lovingly into those emerald orbs. They exude such a captivating charm, as if they were tunnels ringed in gemstone, both penetrative in gaze, yet soft and inviting. Sinking into them to explore the depths of her soul would be so easy. I can, and have, found myself staring into them for seeming ages, coming to only to witness the curiosity in her stare returned, belying a strange sense of wisdom, and perhaps a hint of mischief and smugness.
Her skin, kissed by the sun, bears a slight freckling that adds a touch of playfulness to her already mesmerizing countenance. The freckles are like tiny constellations scattered across her cheeks and nose, adding to her unique allure and lending her an air of innocence and whimsy. The weather has been better for her morning runs, so her slight freckling is more prominent than it had been over the winter and early spring. My gaze lingers on her delicate cheeks, and flows down her jawline to her mouth. Her features are delicate, yet imbued with a captivating femininity. Her cheekbones are elegantly sculpted, her nose a graceful slope, and her lips, ever unadorned or marred by cosmetics are instead colored with a natural blush. They hold a subtle smile that speaks of kindness and warmth. More than I ever felt I’d ever deserved.
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Her features come together to paint a portrait of enchanting beauty. I have to fight my instincts, my entire self to be able to respond, “Sorry, just kind of lost in thought.”
She literally prods me, poking me playfully in the right bicep, “Yeah, obvee. What about?”
My face flushes, coloring me a bright crimson, heating the air between our faces as she leans ever closer, wearing a very ‘gotcha’ expression. The playful smirk that adorns her lips, the hint of a twinkle in her eye, the ever-so-slight furrowing of her brow in the mildest of suspicion. All those make an unmistakable combination of mischievous smugness. I tug at my collar, and gulp as I answer quite lamely, “Well, um, you, and, err, how beautiful you are.”
She virtually beams with humorous pride as she sounds her elation with a long single squee of delight. Her closed-eyed mile-wide smile is pure bliss to gaze upon. She composes herself quickly so that she can joke, “Such a charmer, such a way with words. Hehe. Seriously though babe. You okay? I’ve never seen someone walk away after getting hit by a car before.”
I blink several times before realizing I had completely forgotten that I was just struck by the edge of a vehicle speeding through an intersection. I burst into laughter at my own absentmindedness. Well, that probably makes me seem hysterical. I apologize, “Oh, oh yeah, hah, I’m totally fine. If you weren’t with me, I would have just walked home, cleaned it, and wrapped it up in paper towel and duct tape. It only tore a chunk of flesh out around the shin, near the bone, not near any major arteries or anything, so there isn’t even much bleeding. I really, truly was just admiring your beauty. I totally forgot about getting hit.”
She wears half a frown, “Really? No thoughts about suing? I’m happy you’re thinking of me, but you don’t want me to try to track down traffic cam footage or anything? Wait, no, I know the answer. Court system, even a civil trial, you’d have a heart attack.” She slaps her forehead, muttering doy to herself. She adds, “Okay. As long as you’re okay. That’s all that matters to me.”
I sigh contentedly, “I am. I really am. I’m glad I’m with you. Thank you for understanding me. For being supportive. I love you.”
This time, the air between our faces rises in temperature as she blushes, unable to respond. Despite her inability to say it, I know she feels the same.
I awaken, with Tiktik still slumbering against me, her face still on my chest, a thin line of drool stretching from her cheek, pooling along my sternum. I know that her armor is on beneath her robe, though it remains a flexible, stylish article of clothing until she needs protection. My armor however remains attached to my belt, ready to be donned at a moment’s notice, due to its size-shifting properties. I draw a deep breath, and sigh. Tiktik isn’t a member of my original inner circle, not a member of my family, and she’s probably not someone who’ll stay in my life long-term. Yet here, in the now? This little slice of time, recovering, it’s like she’s everything to me. Our own small piece of comfort carved out amongst the chaos. I want to extend that to Teuila, when she’s ready. She has so much to process, I don’t know when that will be. I’m worried she’ll push herself too hard, or be reckless, or hesitant, or both.
Despite not wanting to wake Tiktik, I begin moving ever so slightly. Kitten rubbing her cheek, and wiping the drool from both her face, and my sternum clues me in that she’s no longer asleep, so I needn’t be so careful. Glancing over at Hellga, she’s in and out of it, murmuring. I’m sure she has a lot to process. Worse, right now we’re already going through Derbrightmine territory. How long have I been out? I refresh the ghostly steeds.
Tiktik nudges me, almost a bit harshly, and for a moment, she looks so timid. I cock my head to the left, staring at her from another angle. She wants to say something, perhaps to get back to the story she’d meant to tell me before we fell asleep. She’s almost scared to. She’s feeling more shy than I’d ever noticed her feeling before. Wait, is that shyness because she bared more of her situation, and her emotions to me?
I start, “Kitten, are you okay?”
Tiktik shakes her head, trembling slightly. I prompt, “Is it about what you said?” Kitten shakes her head. I furrow my brow and frown before asking, “Was it a nightmare or something similar?” Tiktik hesitantly nods, so I further prompt, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Tiktik shakes her head, so I sigh, feeling helpless. So much for a slice of comfort amidst the chaos. It’s not Tiktik’s fault obviously. Poor Kitten. I wish I could do something for her. Seems to be going around a lot right now. Me wishing I could do something for people I care about, and being unable to. I draw a deep breath and heave a weighty sigh. Oh well. One foot in front of the other, proverbially speaking anyway.
Tiktik seemingly regaining her confidence, interrupts my thought train, “I do want to share the tale I was going to tell though, about the Twixt. If uh, if you’re still interested”
I flash her a smile and nod. Kitten starts out, “So, I took a bounty in my Twixt town, the city the Twixt had built up for me. The people there, they, well, they aren’t really real. They can’t leave the Twixt, and the Twixt can either pause them in time while you’re not there, or let time pass while you’re away, so they well, huff. They get made up by the thinkstuff that the Twixt is made of. They disappear if you try to leave with them, or if they try to leave. Anyway, so, well, urban bountyhunting is basically a game, there really aren’t a lot of stakes. People spring into existence, and are given a role, with knowledge, with a past, maybe some crimes committed or something, some interesting bits of history. But they aren’t -real-.”
I blink in surprise. That sounds alarmingly familiar. Springing into existence, without a true past, but being granted it? I try not to hyperventilate as my mind races dangerously close to thoughts of a certain time. I know I’m real, and I know the Twixt wasn’t Can’Z’aas, and that I’m not from the Twixt. I wouldn’t be able to be out here in Rayileklia if I were.
Tiktik blushes, nodding at my thought train, “Sorry Tiger, didn’t mean to worry you. I didn’t know it was like that for you. You’re definitely not from the Twixt, you’re real, I’d know. I just, I mean to say that like, the Twixt is almost like a game, just one with consequences. If you get hurt, or die, it still happens. You could kill, not that I’d like the thought of that, but if the Twixt thought whoever you killed was important to your story? You’d just see them back at the bar, or wherever. In some ways, nothing mattered, but you could still practice things, learn skills, get stronger, exercise, live a whole life in the Twixt. So, I did. Maybe in part because of my crush on Littlebit, not being confident enough to tell her about it. Not a lot of us can go into the Twixt, and even fewer of us do.”
I squint at Tiktik, furrowing my brow slightly. Kitten is going somewhere specific with this, but I haven’t yet connected the dots. Lives spring into existence, pasts of no consequence are put in place as little more than story details, yet what you do has consequences for yourself. It’s beginning to paint a picture, but it’s missing pieces. Her original bit starts with her accepting a bounty.
Tiktik’s eyes widen, “Oh! Oh, right!”