he's such a prude though

[if_at_first]

Sylvi settles in very thoroughly. She makes a point of going out on her wooden horse and wandering the city every day or two, even if she has no specific errand to run (although she does also place orders for lenses and very fine-tipped pens and new notebooks). She hugs Avedan when he has bad dreams and he hugs her when she does, if they successfully wake one another despite the long pillow between them on the bed. And she plows through piles and piles of old notes, and condenses her childhood for inclusion in the same library for future 'bels.

As of this moment she is up to her specialization in shines. Write write write.

Comments

[do_over]

"That's useful," muses Kidan.

[if_at_first]

"Yeah. So if you have them moving around in a pattern, you can pause them and then start them again without having to reprogram them. Try it."

[do_over]

He does. Obligingly, the shine stops.

[if_at_first]

"And starting it back up is almost like the opposite of taking it as a puppet."

[do_over]

"Is it? Then..." He looks at the shine with a look of concentration, and - it goes back to going in circles.

[if_at_first]

Lu applauds.

[do_over]

Kidan grins.

"Thanks."

[if_at_first]

"You're welcome. So the most basic set of shine commands you can put in a program are -" She writes in every command that appears in her little program, and a few more, and goes down the list with him.

[if_at_first]

Sometimes it's too hard not to sob, or to try to draw enough breath to do it. Even though she knows it'll wake him up. Even though she knows he's almost as tired as she is, and pushing to do more than he ought to be able. Even though he can't help and it'll hurt him to fail.

Sometimes she makes a noise.

[do_over]

Aydanci can't always be there when she needs him. He has to sleep, as hard as he tries to not. But this time, he is.

"Love..." He murmurs. In the early days he'd caress her face, or brush her hair out of the way, or - or something, but now he doesn't dare. The lesion on her face is getting worse, and he doesn't want to upset the poultice on it for a few hours yet.

But he has a look. It's a very distinct look. It screams, 'I love you, I love you, I love you, tell me if there's anything I can do to help, I'll do it twice, please, I love you, it's no trouble.' He's wearing it, right now.

[if_at_first]

"Oh honey," she murmurs, softly, trying not to move her jaw too much. "Go back to sleep."

[do_over]

"I think we both know that's a losing battle," he replies, almost wryly, if it wasn't for his eyes. He's cried before, but hasn't recently, mostly through willpower.

[if_at_first]

She might have something to say, but she doesn't seem to have taken another breath after exhaling her suggestion. There's nothing to say it with.

It's a very quiet suffocation. If he were sleeping, or even trying to, he might not notice.

[do_over]

But he's not. So he notices.

"Love?" whimpers Aydanci. Can't hold her hand, too painful, can't kiss her, can't - "Love. You're - darling, can you breathe...?"

[if_at_first]

"Nn."

She's so tired. Breathing hurts, anyway.

She closes her eyes.

[do_over]

Is it cruel of him, to demand that she stay? Maybe. Probably. (Yes.) But he can't help it. There isn't an ounce in him that could prevent him from saying:

"No, no, Aly, please, no. Breathe, love, there's - I can't lose you, I - come back, please!"

Moving her causes her agony, even with all the drugs. Even with her dancing towards overdose on all of them. But she can't breathe, he can't just -

Gently, ever so gently, he tilts her head back, just a tad, staying away from her jaw. This is a better angle for breathing, right? Isn't it? Damnation, all the work in - in medical everything and he can't help his fucking wife breathe!

"Don't go."

[if_at_first]

She lets her lips fall open and draws in a wisp of air.

"Honey," she whispers.

[do_over]

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm - so sorry, I love you..."

[if_at_first]

She breathes again, shakily.

"Honey, how long'll you try to keep me?" she wonders.

[do_over]

"There's still - some chance. I - love, love you should have realized by now that I'm a - a selfish bastard and... and... I love you. I love you so much..."

[if_at_first]

"Love you," she sighs. Neither of her hands is in great shape, but the bandages are fresh enough, and the wrist nearer him is happily free of lesions; she can bend her hand to touch his arm.

[do_over]

He smiles, just a little, at that.

"I'm sorry I'm selfish," he murmurs. "I am. But there's - there's no one else in the world like you, you're - irreplaceable, I can't just - I -"

He doesn't manage to finish the sentence. There are tears in the way,

[if_at_first]

"'M not getting better."

This is the third time she's almost just quit breathing.

[do_over]

"There could be a chance," he says, desperately. "Some - some small..."

[if_at_first]

"'M not. Getting. Better."