Work Text:
~*~
Consider the ocean.
The ocean is vast, and teeming with life, but it is not life as we know it. Dive deep beneath the waves, beyond the thin layer where sunlight can reach, and life in the ocean becomes strange, indeed. Luminescent, ethereal. Scuttling things huddled around geothermal vents. Creatures transformed by extremis into something bizarre, inscrutable. Alien.
Now consider the fish.
Specifically, consider the fish in an aquarium. Life, transplanted. Held in a transparent cube for its own protection, in a slice of its own environment. Confined. Seen. Perhaps not understood. Outside, life on the surface goes on, unchanged, while all the fish can do is stare--
“Hello! Anybody in there?”
Ptilopsis stirs. She turns away from her staring contest with the koi fish in this restaurant lobby’s decorative aquarium to see Ifrit waving a hand in front of her face.
Ifrit. When did Ifrit get so tall? Sometimes she has to remind herself that Ifrit would be a grown woman now, if her condition allowed her to act her age. For all of Ifrit’s waving, Ptilopsis doesn’t flinch, or so much as blink.
“Geez, Auntie Lopsis,” Ifrit grins, “you look like you could just reach into that aquarium and grab a fish with your bare hands.”
Unbidden, an image flicks across Ptilopsis’ mind. Footage of an owl plucking a fish out of a stream with its talons. Documentary series ‘Planet Terra’, timestamp 01:47:16--
“Hungry?” Ifrit continues, shaking Ptilopsis from her thoughts. “So am I. We’ve been waiting here forever …!”
Ifrit squeaks, her complaining interrupted by a chiding fist gently bopping her between her horns. She swats Saria away, grumbling.
Saria herself turns to meet Ptilopsis’ gaze. Wordless concern flits behind her stoic gaze, but all Ptilopsis can do is stare.
“Ptilopsis,” Silence says beside her. Curt, professional.
Ptilopsis turns to face her, and briefly catches a glimpse of her own reflection in Silence’s glasses. For a moment, she sees herself as the world sees her.
Strange. Unnerving. Alien.
But then Silence leans closer, and the cold glint in her glasses is replaced by a warmth in her eyes that’s never faded. A warmth that’s only grown stronger with time.
“Pti,” Silence murmurs, so tenderly it makes her heart ache, a tenderness that-- as evidenced by the lone brown feather tucked behind Ptilopsis’ ear-- she reserves for a precious few.
In that moment, Ptilopsis feels like the koi fish. Trapped behind glass, a stranger in a strange land, and all she can do is stare.
“Pti, are you alright?” Silence urges.
Ptilopsis tries, but the words don’t come. There is always a gulf between her mind and her voice, nowadays. Some nights that gap is small enough to jump over. Some nights, that gulf yawns like a canyon.
I’m alright. Say it.
I’m alright.
No.
This unit is--
No, no!
This unit is--
Error.
Error.
“Ptilopsis,” Silence says firmly. “Can you proceed?”
There’s something about Silence’s voice-- clinical words delivered with warm concern-- that cuts through the static buzzing in Ptilopsis’ head, and meets her halfway.
The words still don’t come. She’s still staring. But Ptilopsis manages a small nod.
Silence’s hands, resting on Ptilopsis’ shoulders, travel gently down her arms before closing over Ptilopsis’ fists. Ptilopsis exhales as Silence gently pries open Ptilopsis’ fists, unknowingly clenched in frustration.
Ptilopsis laces their fingers together with a squeeze.
It’s not what she wanted to say. But it gets the point across.
“Silence, table for four,” a uniformed server calls out. “Follow me, please.”
“Yes! Finally!” Ifrit whoops and grins, punching the air.
“Inside voice,” Saria reminds her with a weary fondness, ushering her ahead.
Silence squeezes Ptilopsis’ hand and leads her away. But before they go, Ptilopsis looks over her shoulder and gives one last glance to the koi in its tank.
Life with an intact mind and a malfunctioning body-- or was it the other way around? --sometimes feels like being a fish. Staring out at a world that doesn’t understand, the weight of the words she can’t say pressing against the glass.
But unlike the vast, crushing darkness of the deep sea…
She’s not in the dark. And she’s not alone.
~*~