She doesn't have to wait up for Pip to get back from her jobs.
That Chloris is still Pip to her. She imagines she will be that always, even when they are old, even when they are wounded and dying together and whichever half of forever falls to them first.
Not that Chloris suits her any less.
But, when Alexis gazes into the starlight that tracks along the manor, her heart says Pip still and her heart is still to say Pip.
Alexis believes Pip will return to her.
Other courtiers vanish and bleed out.
Not Pip.
Spring comes again and the goddesses race through the dew in the fields. If only for that reason- is it pretty, is it poetry if she never says it out loud? Pip must return.
Outside, crickets breathe and the orchard branches beat with bats. So many glow worms scale the hedgerow that the stars would look dim even if she hadn't been staring into that distance for so long. She guesses too, that this time and just like the last time, she must have walked half-unknowing into the night. She stands outside now and drew will gather on her gleaming ankles if not the threshold of the manor.
She could be another night, another three waiting on this job. And yet, she has to be /there/ that evening, drawn out and locked down with herself.
The first sound to slink out of the ordinary- the grind of a motor in the distance. Two cats' eye lights crest the hill, a black shape coasting gravel sounds behind.
With the engine shut down, the siloom glow goes off- there's a door beat, then nothing.
Then footfalls.
If it's spring and it must be spring again, she reminds herself too- the coming of goddesses is not a sight meant for mortal heights. The crickets fall silent. Birds flee the roses, cries and feathers up to the sky and the thing in the hood that rises upon her comes in with glowworms on the seams of her cloak.
She knows it's her.
And yet, there's too much of the night, of the spring, of waiting seeped into her veins.
There in that instant before the laces at the throat of the figure come unfastened.
And Pip smirks at her across the moonlight.
Alexis bolts towards her. She flings her arms around her waist. Their lips meet in a rush, laughter and nipping and bits of their hair caught between.
Alexis devours the smell still clinging to her- the cordite and other people's blood. Bites it from her clothes and once more from her mouth.
The two of them wheel slow against the path, tangling deeper that little by little.
"I missed you too, Thyia. Oh, I mean 'lexis. Are you still 'lexis?"
/Yes,/ she thinks. And if she has to slide her pants up Pip's mission-dusted t-shirt to make sure she knows it.
Ah well, what a pity Spring has ever come for her.
Kiss: Pip/Alexis
That Chloris is still Pip to her. She imagines she will be that always, even when they are old, even when they are wounded and dying together and whichever half of forever falls to them first.
Not that Chloris suits her any less.
But, when Alexis gazes into the starlight that tracks along the manor, her heart says Pip still and her heart is still to say Pip.
Alexis believes Pip will return to her.
Other courtiers vanish and bleed out.
Not Pip.
Spring comes again and the goddesses race through the dew in the fields. If only for that reason- is it pretty, is it poetry if she never says it out loud? Pip must return.
Outside, crickets breathe and the orchard branches beat with bats. So many glow worms scale the hedgerow that the stars would look dim even if she hadn't been staring into that distance for so long. She guesses too, that this time and just like the last time, she must have walked half-unknowing into the night. She stands outside now and drew will gather on her gleaming ankles if not the threshold of the manor.
She could be another night, another three waiting on this job. And yet, she has to be /there/ that evening, drawn out and locked down with herself.
The first sound to slink out of the ordinary- the grind of a motor in the distance. Two cats' eye lights crest the hill, a black shape coasting gravel sounds behind.
With the engine shut down, the siloom glow goes off- there's a door beat, then nothing.
Then footfalls.
If it's spring and it must be spring again, she reminds herself too- the coming of goddesses is not a sight meant for mortal heights. The crickets fall silent. Birds flee the roses, cries and feathers up to the sky and the thing in the hood that rises upon her comes in with glowworms on the seams of her cloak.
She knows it's her.
And yet, there's too much of the night, of the spring, of waiting seeped into her veins.
There in that instant before the laces at the throat of the figure come unfastened.
And Pip smirks at her across the moonlight.
Alexis bolts towards her. She flings her arms around her waist. Their lips meet in a rush, laughter and nipping and bits of their hair caught between.
Alexis devours the smell still clinging to her- the cordite and other people's blood. Bites it from her clothes and once more from her mouth.
The two of them wheel slow against the path, tangling deeper that little by little.
"I missed you too, Thyia. Oh, I mean 'lexis. Are you still 'lexis?"
/Yes,/ she thinks. And if she has to slide her pants up Pip's mission-dusted t-shirt to make sure she knows it.
Ah well, what a pity Spring has ever come for her.
So be it.