startup daemon

"Pandoria, are you sure you're okay sleeping on the floor? I promise I don't mind giving up the bed."

Pandy shrugged. "Nah, I've slept on worse. When you're the guest, it'll be your turn. Oh, and, call me Pandy?"

Pyra's nod was pensive, thumb pressing on collarbone as the opposite wrist flexed. If you didn't count the five-hundred-year stasis in a glass-tubed crypt, Pyra had had pretty good luck with rest spots. Not that that made it anything other than completely unfair that she was the one actually benefiting from their stay at an inn.

"How about I join you, then?"

"Huh?" Pandy's head and tail both whipped up, lightbulbs akimbo.

Not waiting for an answer, Pyra slipped down to the floor, where she recrossed her legs. "No payback. We'll just make it square now."

She was close enough that Pandoria could see the rosy dusting rising beneath the apples of Pyra's cheeks - guiltily, Pandy noted that this was probably because of that request for nickname. Two or three sentences in and Pyra still hadn't said it, and the longer it lingered, the heavier it got.

"Pandy?"

Oh, snap. There it was.

"What's up, Pyra?"

"I wanted to tell you that I'm...glad I got to know you."

Now Pandy became suddenly, painfully aware of the fact that the rest of the lights in the room were out, and it was only her bulbs that illuminated the two women sharing the floor. The moment felt far too intimate to shine a spotlight on, but what could she do? Pitch the room into blackness and leave Pyra feeling rejected, lonely, a creep?

"Well...me too, of course."

"Of course?"

Maybe it wasn't just Pandy. Maybe Pyra was glowing, too, warm and tentative and pulsing, a little bit.

"Obviously. You're kind, and powerful, and funny, and a lot calmer than the rest of us, sometimes."

"Even Mòrag?"

"Especially Mòrag."

Pyra's breath was sweet, somber. Clarifying, upon Pandoria's nose and eyes. And maybe, maybe, if they both just took a breath, a blink--

Darkness pulled tight the covers.