Setting
Noah turns their face into it, breathing. It feels different here; the last rainstorm they were in was a few 'verses back, a torrential downpour that had the locals dancing and singing in the streets. It had been a holy day for them; a day to celebrate the renewal of life and mourn for the lost opportunities of the past seasons. Noah had laughed as children pulled them into a carefree spin, had sat with them and listened to their stories for hours; it had been a good end to a good month, the longest they'd ever spent in one place. It had been rejuvenating; a rebirth of the spirit, the priest had called it, with a kind smile and gentle touch.
Now they just feel exhausted. The rain pools at their feet, sluggish and dull. Their claws twist in the soggy paper of the aged notebook, mangling it. It's ruined, again; they'll have to restore it, again. It gets harder each time, the clarity of the earlier words lost in the mud seeping through their boots. They're all so small, ink and curved letters and the stench of decaying cellulose, sharp and sweet, but they mean so much.
Don't they?
They could drop it. They could let the entirety of their written history dissolve away in the rain and the fog, be eaten by the dirt and bugs that pool I the rainwater around their feet. It would be easy. They wouldn't even remember the notebook in a few jumps.
Their claws tighten around the pages. A few jumps, and nothing would be left of Noah Riley or the thief wearing her name, nothing left of the twenty worlds of pain in their past.
There is a pull in their gut, and Noah steps forward into a new skin instead.
Idrix: made up songs about everything. soft snow piles and shivering beneath a hot shower. sunshine? warmth, bright yellows, gentle orange, a laugh against your neck
Maria: cooked shellfish in heavy cream. fluffy blankets and prayers in the candlelight. jasmine, lavender, shirtless summer nights, βSanta MarΓa, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores - β
Xalix: freedom, gunpowder and starlight, blood in your mouth, and a scrap of a battered army uniform
They force themself to remember; they draw the slowly dimming faces on the back of every page, trying to fill the holes with pale reflections of the emotions captured between the lines.
mi familia: they scrawl the title across the top of the page, hasty and desperate. They had a different family once, they think; a normal family, siblings and parents in the same home, the same universe, but they can't remember. All they have left is this -- the slowly growing list of names that loses more meaning the more they read it, the confused fear of forgetting something important.
Xallix' cheek is soft and warm; the coarse fur scrapes against Noah's thumb, and they smile despite themself. The soldier is half-asleep against them, languid and relaxed the way she only ever is when it's just the two of them. It's a strange feeling; Noah leans over, pressing a gentle kiss between their ears. This feels so familiar; the world steady beneath their feet, the universe silenced around them. This must have been what it was like before, Noah thinks; warm and steady, no fear of losing everything again -
The army is falling back, shouting for a retreat that is already in full swing. Noah can taste blood in their mouth, panting desperately as they abandon their shattered blade and strike out with their claws instead. A dull burn pulses at the base of their skull. They've overstretched themself; the familiar numbness tingles through their arms, crawling into their bones, and they throw the attacker of themself, looking, desperate, Xal, Xal, where are you, where -
"I love you." The admission is breathed into her neck, curled around each other in a tiny tent on what would become the deadliest battlefield of the war. Noah is warm and safe; a participant, playing with the universe's rules, scratching the hard to reach space behind Xallix' ears. It's not a role they're used to, not one they're entirely comfortable with, but this has always been the price of stability. Xallix purrs gently, claws trailing gently across Noah's spine,
Xallix bleeds out in their arms, choking and terrified; Xallix laughs and traces the scars across Noah's back; Xallix' eyes are cold and mistrusting as they collapse to their knees in a world they know nothing off; Xal, Xal, Xal, Xal.
I try not to.
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