My mental avatar flashes an apologetic half-smile Tiktik’s way before offering up my apology, “Sorry Kitten, figured you could use the rest and recuperation. You can get the next three though, I swear.”
At that, Tiktik pales ever so slightly, as she nervously chuckles, dreading the implication. I feel bad for teasing her, especially for teasing her with a harsh truth. To make up for it, I conjure our shared thinkspace, and draw My Wings, and Kitten into a tight embrace within. Each of us share pleased murmurs of contentment at one another’s presence. We hadn’t been able to enjoy it for a while. No need to spell out the several reasons why.
Teuila’s telepathic avatar softly slugs mine in the arm and she buries her face in its clavicle, the sadness that she’s trying to hide is plenty evident. I don’t begrudge her that though. Hm, I just had a thought, and I don’t like the next thought I’m about to have.
I quickly dive into a moment between moments, hating myself for it as I do it. I hate to hide anything from Teuila, but her recovery is in a fragile state at the moment. I just need to hash out a quick thought privately to myself. Earlier I had been thinking about fundamental forces. Between Teuila and myself, we’ve got space, time, gravity, magnetism, thermodynamics, basically all manner of particle manipulation. I already covered that thought earlier. Luni though? Luni has control over waves. Sound waves, repeating waves, oscillation. Maybe it’s not just Te and myself, but me, Te, and Lu, that make up a balanced set of forces.
The only reasons I want to hide this from Teuila are because something in me is nagging me that some sort of memory can hurt or kill Teuila, or me, and I worry that this might trigger it. That, and I don’t want her thinking about more reasons to feel pressured, or anything like that, while she’s sorting out her emotions. If Can’Z’aas was somehow represented by a soul, by Aces’ soul—. How did that come to pass? My pulse quickens and I gulp as the edges of my psyche, and the fractures therein begin to rumble. Okay, okay. Warning received. I blink back tears that I didn’t realize I was shedding, and feel confused by the sudden wave of sadness. I’ve lost more than I know. I’m almost certain of it. I think some part of me is lamenting that, subconsciously. Oh well. Just one more weird little detail in the life or lives of Reggie Shellcracker I guess.
Huff. I sigh exasperatedly at myself, shaking my head as I release my grip on this semi-frozen point in time. Returning to reality, thinkspace in particular, I let myself cry softly in the embraces of Tiktik and Teuila. I feel them follow suit, each of us unloading our emotions, in the simplest display. There’s so much to say that remains unsaid. There are so many feelings we want to share, experiences we want to share, yet—. I gulp back sticky saliva and draw a shuddering breath. I don’t know how to succeed, but I’m still hopeful that someday, somehow, we’ll make it out alright. I know it’s not going to be right now, and it’s easy to be wondering when, but all I can do is hold onto hope.
Teuila’s telepathic avatar socks my avatar’s shoulder and bops my avatar’s head before giving me a light shoulder-bash. She’s discomforted by my gloomy thought train, and I can’t blame her. She knows how deeply enamored of her I am, and how much I want us to succeed, and build our peaceful forever together.
I whisper, “I hope I never fail to tell you enough how beloved you are to me, Teuila Shellcracker, My Wings. I love you beyond what words can express.”
Teuila lightly shoulder-bashes me again before hiding her face in my shoulder once more as she nods. My avatar feels the sensation of the tears that drip from Te’s avatar’s eyes onto its shoulder. Tiktik’s avatar wears a half-frown, perhaps a bit of a pensive expression.
Kitten grouses, “You two aren’t going to be able to stay, are you? Until the refugees make it out west. You want me to stay, because I can kill hydras. I know we can’t leave all these guys hanging, heck, some of my favorite people are from The Brook. But, I want to face down the apocalypses with you guys though. I signed on for it. I won’t back down. I wouldn’t back down, or run away, or leave you hanging. I want you to know that I’m all in, no matter what. You two are great, and, well, I don’t want to lose you without being there, in the end, if it comes down to the end.”
I find myself mimicking Tiktik’s half frown as I nod along with her. I respond as best I’m able, “I know, I know you wouldn’t Kitten. You’re right, we can’t leave them hanging, and your injuries aren’t recovering as much as they should be. I’d give anything, if it came down to it, to have you at our side in the end. I guess we just have to hope that it doesn’t come to that.”
Teuila interrupts, “Tiki, I want to smooch your stupidly cute face and hold you until you heal up, but Airhead is right. If, if we can just, just maybe pretend like we’re sure it’ll work out, then it’s not goodbye. Glp. It’s just—“
All of us finish, “See you later,” before nodding somberly in unison.
Te’s right. I’d sacrifice limbs to be able to see Tiktik again when this is all done, or even before. Who knows how largely the span of events scales though? Maybe we’ll have to head to Jeegoobotstan at some point in the process of fighting off one or more of the apocalypses. If I could just find some way to guarantee things, or somehow keep lines of communication open, or anything at all that might assuage our fears about losing one another—. But I can’t. I can’t make promises, and I don’t have the power to make guarantees, or enable any of those things.
Hell, I don’t even have the power to ascertain if Bud is alive or dead, and that wracks me with guilt every time I think of it. I clutch at my chest as I wail in sorrow, thinking that several times in my life, my desire to save people has gotten others killed. Sylphie, Bud, who knows how many chameleonfolk or nagas, and maybe more. What’s worse, Sylphie and Bud made conscious sacrifices, for my heroics specifically. They paid the price so that I could try to save others.
Teuila’s telepathic avatar sifts her fingers through my avatar’s hair after bonking it slightly on the head for me getting down on myself in my thought train. Kitten’s telepathic avatar sniffles and squeezes my avatar tighter. We’re almost back to the refugees, and there’s still so much unsaid. There are weights and dangers looming over us, like Elder said, the Sword of Damocles. At least we have potential allies, at least we have friends. Though, that almost makes it all worse. We have people to care about, to be saddened by the dangers that the world poses to them.
As we land, Teuila checks in with me telepathically to see if I’m okay, and I nod. With my assent, Te sets me on my own two feet, so I work through my internal electrokinesis to operate my muscles. I turn my head side to side slowly to survey the swath of wounded and injured individuals. My heart catches in my throat as I gasp, recognizing several of them. One was a lug who challenged Teuila to an arm-wrestling match at one point, and lost of course. Another is Berinon Tanner. There’s easily two dozen other wounded I don’t recognize, but Berinon, whose details I can now make out, is the man who was scrabbling away, not quickly enough, that I levitated away from the hydra. Some kind soul must have snagged him and began passing him along the line of refugees to the caretakers’ camp after all.
Berinon eyes me and Teuila in an almost feverish daze before nodding absentmindedly. Tiktik is hobbling out of a miniature tent in our direction, clutching her chest in pain. Seeing her like this reminds me how delicate her features really are, although not just in frailty, but also in femininity and beauty. She’s rather waif-like, or quite petite overall. Not exactly what I should be focusing on, but I couldn’t help noticing it in the moment, as I’m observing, and taking in the scene that resulted from the earlier carnage. My mind clings onto what little positive details it can, like how Berinon’s strong arms and hands are still in good condition, despite the rough shape of his torso and legs. Berinon works with his hands, so in the long run, he should still be okay, even if his recovery weren’t perfect for his current injuries.
As we pass by the proud craftsman, I set a hand on his shoulder, as I struggle to present myself as fully functional. His left hand comes over to clasp my hand on his shoulder, and his grateful gaze speaks volumes. He understood that somehow I used magic to aid his escape, and he’s acknowledging it. His dried, cracked lips mouth the words of thanks that he doesn’t have the lung capacity to speak at the moment, and I nod, squeezing his shoulder firmly in comfort. With my silent sonar senses, and a bit of paused time, I can analyze Berinon’s wounds, and I can tell that he’ll recover just fine. I’m glad.
Teuila slugs Berinon in the shoulder, just rough enough to evoke a wince from the two of us as she teases, “Better not go dying on me Beri, I’m going to need new traveling clothes once your new shop is set up. Who else is going to keep an adventuress looking this fresh and sexy?” Te motions with her hands performing an elaborate, exaggerated hourglass figure around her own for emphasis, causing Berinon to loose a pained chuckle.
I have to bite my lips to keep from laughing as I completely fail to keep a straight face. Te gets me with this bit every time, and I always feel awful for finding it humorous. Te’s mental avatar smirks at me as she winks. Her avatar mimes the motion again, in my mindscape, and Kitten’s avatar giggles in response.
Teuila’s avatar jokingly grumps, “What, you guys don’t think this,” Teuila emphasizes her curves again, “is sexy with a capital S?”
None of us can keep a straight face, leaving Kitten and me laughing in thinkspace, while Teuila jokingly rips up grass to throw at us inside our idyllic mindscape. Eventually she can’t even pretend to be upset any longer, and she gives in to a fit of giggles and rolls about with the two of us, laughing at her own bit.
I loose a contented sigh at the end of a series of laughs and shake my head in faux-exasperation, unable to help wearing the stupid half-grin that’s plastered on my face. Somehow, I feel like I laughed so hard in thinkspace that my meatspace body actually hurts. Ow, hah. Teuila grins derpily at me with her closed-eyed mile-wide smile as she looses a Shellcracker family squee. Her sound of elation draws forth another contented sigh from me.
As I try to piece together how I’m going to say what I want to say, on top of what needs to be said, I notice an uptick in murmurs and whispers amidst the crowd of refugees. Casting about my senses, it isn’t too difficult to ascertain what’s got everyone so excited all of a sudden. Coming from the direction that Teuila and I had arrived from is a trio of harefolk approaching with purpose, though they’re slightly disguised by a luminescent glow from their glowlichen powder. It seems ever-so-slightly cruel to be approaching wounded in the guise of ghosts or spirits. Some cultures might think that they were being approached by the grim reaper, coming to claim the unknowingly dead. I guess that doesn’t apply to Aasimovians though, what with their whole ancestors walking amongst them deal. Or, it didn’t in the past. Regardless, I guess it’s time to deal with the hares today.