a berry in the bush
Chapters
Chapter 01: Noah/Sena (non-binary/transfem Noah)
Chapter 02: nia/mik bitter exes forever
Chapter 03: Shioralvis!
Chapter 04: Noahyabi (Mio's elsewhere)
Chapter 05: mythra/brighid is kinda... yeah
Chapter 06: M/X IS KINDA... YEAH
Chapter 07: NIA/PATROKA
Chapter 08: TeachZeon propaganda "for the first time in human history"
Chapter 09: i love melia x fiora so much and people need to talk about it more
Chapter 10: Shania/Sena!!!
Chapter 11: mio/eunie!!!!!
Chapter 12: Ghondor x Sena? :0
Having finally crossed between the poles, Noah saw pocket after pocket of new emotion open up before her. The same constriction she'd felt refusing to acknowledge her femininity had stopped up other parts of her mind, and now she allowed herself to be more vulnerable.
Almost...delicate. And not just "squishy".
Sena wanted (needed) someone to be strong for. Noah had different, rarer strengths (some more akin to stubborness, others to the ability to give up).
"Just leave it to me, Noah. I'll pick you up any time!"
And of course she'd meant it literally.
How different it felt. How nice.
"He's got this...thing. About marrying his future Driver. And I get it, must suck shite to be a Blade and not have one, but it won't be me."
They'd the two opposite ends of perspective on the same issue: being forced to make a permanent translation, and seeing new possibilities open up in front of them as a result, but hesitating in how best to approach it.
Didn't matter how similar his weapons were to Dromarch's, how well they might synergize. How Nia wished battle could be the end-all! But Mik was a person, so he persisted. Ugh, and how...
"You're staring, Alvis."
Alvis didn't stare; Alvis studied. It was, in fact, this very thing that had him fixated.
He had engaged in a deep assessment of Shulk's character, personality, soul for years, centuries. Every fascinating, charming machination, opaque even to most Homs. Until Shulk learned to master the divine machine, Alvis would always know more about Shulk than Shulk did him.
And then there was Fiora. Meyneth's vessel. Of course. She was wild, compassionate, fierce. So vibrant.
Both of them, so unlike their gods. What, then, in combination?
"He is different, with you."
Fiora gazed back. "You're different with him."
"Will you practice with me, Miyabi?"
She didn't even get so far as stammering. She really hadn't played with, or for, anyone other than Mio, for such a long time. And yes, it was practice - how many times had she impressed upon Mio the importance of practice, when you're not perfect at it from the get-go? - but it was still pressure.
Miyabi took a chance and flicked her eyes back, ready to re-avert, but there was Noah, smile gentle, eyes inviting.
He motioned to her red ribbon: first, they'd play Mio's off-seeing tune.
Well, alright. Okay. If it was with him.
If there was one thing Brighid brought into Mythra's life, it was tension. Not counsel, not friendship, not awe, not responsibility, not even competition. Just tension.
Maybe Mythra had no concept of connection, chemistry and electricity. Maybe she knew exactly what was going on. Was either option any less frustrating?
Brighid knew there was tension, and in her own mind she handled it well. Superlatively. Everyone else saw not such a rosy, eleganza picture. Mythra would never know that Brighid even had another side to her for five centuries yet.
But, chests heaving, they clashed. Again and again, friction sparking tension.
"You've gotten ahead of yourself, X."
Big words from the gal who'd sprung a gambit like this out of nowhere. Had X really been so blind, just accepting the apathetic act?
Had M been using her?
Heh. She was right not try to humanize Moebius. Not the original avatars, anyway. Only ever as deep as their present hedonism. Sure, X knew that.
X had thought M to be like a beautiful porcelain doll, with just enough meat underneath for the tearing. Such a dull, shattering tragedy.
But now X was the brittle, insignificant plaything.
And M had been everything to her.
To say that any of Torna could have been described as "welcoming" toward Nia, when first Jin had picked her up, would be an outright joke. Torna were not welcoming, inviting, or anything else related to hospitable. They were homicidal maniacs, for the Architect's sake!
Well. One of them was, anyway.
And while she didn't make Nia comfortable, Patroka certainly seemed to get something out of her fellow female Flesh Eater's company.
Out of her depth, Nia couldn't reciprocate. Still, months later, when Patroka returned remembering nothing, it was a sweet sort of sorrow.
Bitter, but not sour. Oh, pickled plums.
"What a pair we make, Dutiful and Inscrutable..."
"You take issue with our titles?"
"They're certainly much less colorful than those of our compatriots."
Zeon, dutiful as he was, had a practical explanation for this: "Well, I plant potatoes, and you're a teacher. I'm afraid even the City's more indulgent sensibilities don't find those occupations very exciting."
They were, indeed, engaged in weeding the loneliest, scraggliest Spongy Spud patch. Teach's nails were crusted with crumbly dirt.
"You think I need another way to occupy myself?"
Smiling, Zeon turned back to the plot. "No. I think you're doing just fine right here."
"How lovely - my very best friend, the empress of the High Entia!"
They could be happy about the coronation now, after all. Sorean had been gone (passed, deceased, buried) for over a year. Tyrea had come to reconciliation. The time for solemnity was past, Fiora figured.
Melia didn't disagree, but she found it perhaps a touch ill-colored not to contain her joy and flatterment at Fiora's excitement.
This was no way for a monarch to behave, giggling at girlhood games! There were heady matters afoot; momentous, weighty decisions.
And yet, Melia felt light as a feather. Truly? Fiora's very best friend?
For Sena, Shania's standoffishness was almost easier to parse. The standard self-doubt that you were just being tolerated went out the window when you weren't even being tolerated. Barely, if at all.
No longer was Sena's aim to people-please. Instead, she searched for a way to connect with Shania. When thoughts and feelings she shared weren't received as she might have expected, Sena was able to stay firm in her own stance; stare across the gulf.
Yes, she did yearn for a day when Shania might actually just enjoy her company.
But Sena couldn't say for one-thousand-percent-sure that she didn't, already.
"Eunie?"
"Yeah, Mio?"
The nonchalance of Eunie's reply contrasted mightily with the sight of her almost tattered-looking wings.
"Does that hurt?" Mio asked, taking a cautious seat to Eunie's right.
"What, this? Nah." Wince. "Only when I'm not expectin' it. If I've got somethin' else to focus on, it goes quicker. Sometimes I get a real mudder of a pinfeather stuck somewhere it shouldn't, and I can't fish it out without feeling like I'm jabbin' it back in."
As she spoke, Eunie continued methodically grooming the moltage.
"Might I be able to help, then?"
Eunie grinned. "I'm sure you could, love."
Sena was a hugger. Ghondor was...not, exactly.
More specifically, Ghondor didn't enjoy randomly being touched. She could clap back and clap backs with the best and worst of 'em, but when it came to sappiness, you had to pick your battles. Incur the wrath of Wrathfist for a lark? Nah, mate.
Ouroboros's innocence sorta made her think, though. Maybe spontaneity wasn't such a bad thing. They were so young, for eighteen. So wide-eyed. She was so...well, not old...jaded.
And Sena's megaton squishes? Somethin' else. Downright love supernovas. Ghondor learned to treasure them, and even - someday - to squeeze back.