evocation | ⚡ ML INBOX

[She lets out a choked sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Everyone who comes back has died, but she doesn't want to ask about that right now. Instead, she just tightens her grip, fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt, and presses a kiss to his cheek. The empathy bond gives him some mix of relief and aching affection, all tangled up with an odd sort of grief.]

I'm so glad you're back.

[ He tries not to feel it. Not the kiss, not everything that comes along with it. But that's not how this works--and what she gets back is grief and relief of his own, the special permutation of oh, thank Christ that's all for Kyna, all surrounded by a loneliness like a sucking chest wound.

It's so much easier, normally, not to be trapped in the middle of this shit. ]

Yeah. Yeah-- [ His eyes are shut tight for a moment, not a single coherent thought coming to mind. ] Me, too.

[She doesn't expect the loneliness, but it's so familiar that he doesn't get pity back—it's empathy, a sadness borne from intimate understanding. The relationships she had in the Aerie were unlike anything she had at home, that natural understanding that so many people would stick with her through her worst and had for years. There are maybe two or three people back home she can say that for. Losing it has left her reeling.

But Sam's a little different. They cared about each other in that other life, but she didn't realize how much she intrinsically trusts him here until she got back. Until she had something to compare it to.

She doesn't know how to tell him that, though. She doesn't know how to talk about any of it, and so she just presses her temple to his.]

No more snakeskin suits?

[ This is more than he bargained for, this constant contact and everything that comes with it here. After a break from it, a whole imagined lifetime where touching somebody didn't mean pulling back the curtain on everything inside his head, feeling Kyna reacting to him is overwhelming.

So he draws back a little, enough to break the connection, and breathes out like he's halfway forgotten how to laugh. Doesn't let go of her, though he's pretty sure he should--this has gone on a hell of a lot longer than he'd expect from a friendly hug. ]

You liked those, huh?

[She smiles, a little shakily. ]

Some of them weren't so bad.

[He doesn't let go, so she doesn't, either. They're entitled to a little clinginess right now, right?]

Um... How are you doing? I mean, seriously.

Don't worry about me. I've seen worse.

[ Easy to say--easier, in fact, when he lets go of her and he's a little bit out of reach. See? Fine. Maybe not completely-normal-tone fine, but at least he's the kind of fine where he's not falling to pieces.

You know. Fine. ]

C'mere.

[ There's a little park bench, except it's plastic instead of wood, and while it didn't used to be shaded, the garden's gotten a little out of control up here. Sam goes over to it and sits down, putting an arm along the top slat. Same general deal, being clingy--that arm's going around her the second she sits down--but without the Casablanca feeling to it. They might as well be comfortable. ]

That's what everyone's saying.

[But she sits beside him anyway, settling against his side as soon as his arm is around her.]

Do you... um. Remember all of it?

[ It's a familiar sensation, having her leaning against him like this, his arm having settled around her shoulders. He's careful not to touch her skin--always difficult with Kyna--but there's a tension in his frame that eases when she's next to him, evident even without having a front-row ticket to his emotions. ]

Yeah. [ All of it? He thinks through it. Yeah, all of it seems about right. It feels distant, somehow, even though it just happened, but there aren't any gaps he can think of. ] Do you?

[It's nice, feeling him relax. She's not sure she did the entire first day she was back. But here comes the awkward part, the part she's going to stumble over.]

Yeah. And... I'm sorry.

[She wrinkles her nose, not sure how to elaborate.]

You know. For freaking out at you.

[ He doesn't play it off as easily as he will later with Ian. (That's over text, a hell of a lot easier to play dumb about, and frankly, everything with Kyna's a little more complicated than it is with anyone else.) Instead, after a few moments of quiet... ]

You don't gotta apologize for that.

Are you just saying that?

[Because that was a pretty long pause.]

Nah.

[ This, too, after a pause--he does Kyna the honor of considering it, at least. ]

It wasn't real. We mighta been stuck there, but you weren't you. I wasn't really me.

[Now it's her turn to be quiet, chewing her lip. A few people have said similar things—that it wasn't real, but Kyna can't get herself to think that way.]

I think it was real.

[Her scars say so, anyway.]

It happened.

[ That part, he can't deny, even if it might be tempting. ]

But it wasn't...y'know, I don't know contract law from my elbow. Pretty sure the last suit I owned, I wore for my first communion. You getting pissed off at me, it isn't real like this is.

[Absently, she reaches up to touch the scar on her throat.]

Maybe, but...

[How does she say this? How does she bring it up?]

You don't think it means anything that we just... went along with that? The Quarry?

I, uh.

[ Jesus, what a question. Sam runs his free hand through his hair--finally the right length again, shaggy but combed back away from his face--to buy himself some time.

Of course it matters. It wasn't real, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen. But all it really says to Sam is that he's still the person he's always been: Nathan's his first priority, everything else comes after. None of it changed him. It just says he's been doing things for his brother all along, that he always will.

(Except for that one thing, the Henry Avery business--but that was for Nathan, too. Sam told himself that was for Nathan, too.)

But Kyna, she's asking because she needs comfort. He can feel that much without touching her skin, just in the way she's curled up next to him. So he looks for comforting. ]

S'easy to say we shoulda been tearing the whole thing apart, but we were trying to get by. Best that mighta happened was we ended up on the street--and trust me, sleeping rough ain't as glamorous as it sounds. Worst...worst was a helluva lot worse'n that.

Yeah. I guess so.

[She's never been on the street, so she doesn't feel like she can argue that point, but... Still. It's gotten under her skin.]

How much of it was... You know. True for you? I mean, compared to here.

[ He makes a little noise, thoughtful. ]

Let's see. Still had a brother. Still grew up the same way--mostly. Less prison time, more suits. Not that, uh, far off.

What about you?

No magic. No brother. My dad still left.

[So two major differences. Two that are easy to talk about, anyway. The rest is hard to articulate.]

Back home I didn't... I don't know. I wasn't close to as many people.

[ That, he gets. ]

Not much of a joiner, huh?

[ Or is that your thing, Samuel? (Clearly it's the only thing, it's fine.) ]

[She scoffs, nudging his side.]

I mean I haven't been great at keeping friends before getting here.

Seems like you do okay now.

Yeah, maybe. Or maybe you guys just put up with me.

[She nudges his side.]

I'm glad you're back to normal.

[ He snorts, poking her in the side with his finger. ]

Like me better like this, huh?

Yeah, you're less...

[She hesitates, then her lips quirk up.]

Slimy.

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