[P] never told no one but we look so cute

[Theodosia]

There is solace in Mari's skin against hers, in the rat-a-tat beat of the commander's heart as they press together and as she tries to keep herself from losing her balance and her consciousness once more. There is a coursing heat through her veins that pulses with every thrum of her heartstrings, so similiar and yet so different from the heat she'd felt that night in a run-down bar in Terrastella, and for a moment she aches to be back home. There was nothing wrong with Delumine, except that it wasn't Terrastella. Her quarters here were almost lavish in comparison to the spartan cadet quarters she'd made into her home, the people all welcoming towards the refugees of her court... but it wasn't home. Even more selfishly, she longed for her Dam, for the soft voice that had sung her lullabies through all of her childhood sicknesses and the quiet, almost amused look of patience Anzhelo had worn whenever she'd try to deny she was sick. "Okay," She sighs at Marisol's command, the commander's voice pulling her out of a hazy memory of her own childhood, and perhaps that is the most alarming sign of all, that she doesn't try to fight or hide her weakness any longer -- she's tired, too tired to fight, too tired to do anything except lean against Marisol's shoulder and pray to the Gods she no longer trusts in that the commander won't think less of her in the morning.

credits
@Marisol fin.