[he shares back: genuine puzzlement lightening to comprehension; a gentle backbeat of low grade affection, unconscious and always there when he's with Forge]
You got annoyed 'cos it was the wrong flavoring. Were you trying for fruit?
[you’re facing a girl in a tank where the liquid has lit a lurid, dangerous red. she’s thrashing in slow motion, glowing green-white fins or wings slowly unfurling around her like petals. you can feel her wordless distress, taste it like pennies at the back of your throat. your heart is beating triple-time along with hers. it feels like it’s going to come out of your chest if it’s left to itself much longer, which means she must be feeling the same.
you reach out, your hands and forehead contacting the warm reinforced glass. you’re not looking at yourself but you can see the blue light that pulses from you, pushing back the red a little bit. you can see the lines on your hands in your peripheral vision, see the ones on your face in blurry reflection. the same traceries lighting up along your sister’s body, call and response.
you can’t enter the tank and hold her, but you can reach out another way. your mind touches hers, and when her bleeding distress meets you, you bend and sway and catch it instead of being a wall for it to break against. it’s okay not to be okay.
you’re not alone. I’m here. can you talk to me? can you tell me what hurts?
you send it at her in waves instead of words, in the near-photosynthetic pulses of your shared language, if feelings were pure sunlight. she is crying, and you let her. you share the hurt. you take the hurt. you offer her peace. she’s not alone. she’s not alone. she’s never alone.
...she was okay after that, that time, I think. If she was beyond savin' it wouldn't have felt like that--would've been a lot more violent. I don't remember a lot of the specifics, but I think vision me went around helping his sisters a lot that way.
Aloe remembered they're trapped, though, even if--we could soothe them out of stuff like that. So it's complicated.
[pulls a napkin from the bar and a pen from a pocket, doodling a strange sort of tubular tank. there’s something hovering inside that looks like a tightly closed flowerbud. taps it]
Dependent Plants are creatures that humans use to provide electricity, food, water, et cetera. Humans would die out without them doing that, ‘cos the whole planet’s a desert, so they pretty much live their lives doing that, and they can’t survive outside of these tanks. They’re my sisters, and Aloe’s.
We’re Independent Plants—I dunno why, but we can function outside the tanks and pass for regular humans. It sounds like the Dependents were able to produce us somehow, I dunno. Just two…
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[patting his back]
I don't know either, but that sounds like desire to me, so thank you for your honesty.
He doesn't seem to be monogamous. I'm sure you have a chance.
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A chance at...what?
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Oh, are you together already?
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[+coffee, +milk]
1/2
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[it doesn't work]
Congratulations. I'm happy for you.
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closes her mouth]
Actually. Give me your hands.
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[emotion shareeeee! catherine is frustratey]
I'm not lactose intolerant, I'm goal-oriented.
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You got annoyed 'cos it was the wrong flavoring. Were you trying for fruit?
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But. We also need fruit.
[another wave of irritation]
I guess I'll go and inflict my feelings on everyone now.
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Here.
[offers her a strawberry cube]
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[takes it]
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you reach out, your hands and forehead contacting the warm reinforced glass. you’re not looking at yourself but you can see the blue light that pulses from you, pushing back the red a little bit. you can see the lines on your hands in your peripheral vision, see the ones on your face in blurry reflection. the same traceries lighting up along your sister’s body, call and response.
you can’t enter the tank and hold her, but you can reach out another way. your mind touches hers, and when her bleeding distress meets you, you bend and sway and catch it instead of being a wall for it to break against. it’s okay not to be okay.
you’re not alone. I’m here. can you talk to me? can you tell me what hurts?
you send it at her in waves instead of words, in the near-photosynthetic pulses of your shared language, if feelings were pure sunlight. she is crying, and you let her. you share the hurt. you take the hurt. you offer her peace. she’s not alone. she’s not alone. she’s never alone.
this does IN FACT make tea and fruit]
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What happened to her?
[curiosity. upset. indignation. CATHERINE NO LIKE TRAGEDY. FIX TRAGEDY.]
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...she was okay after that, that time, I think. If she was beyond savin' it wouldn't have felt like that--would've been a lot more violent. I don't remember a lot of the specifics, but I think vision me went around helping his sisters a lot that way.
Aloe remembered they're trapped, though, even if--we could soothe them out of stuff like that. So it's complicated.
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[pulls a napkin from the bar and a pen from a pocket, doodling a strange sort of tubular tank. there’s something hovering inside that looks like a tightly closed flowerbud. taps it]
Dependent Plants are creatures that humans use to provide electricity, food, water, et cetera. Humans would die out without them doing that, ‘cos the whole planet’s a desert, so they pretty much live their lives doing that, and they can’t survive outside of these tanks. They’re my sisters, and Aloe’s.
We’re Independent Plants—I dunno why, but we can function outside the tanks and pass for regular humans. It sounds like the Dependents were able to produce us somehow, I dunno. Just two…
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Just you and Aloe?
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But he’s not here.
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