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"Can't live with them, can't live without them."
The concept echoed within Phosphophyllite, even now, even with words or drifting thoughts easily forgotten in the long, long stretches of immortality, and with Pho's mind- clumsy and inadequate as any other part of their form. It remained, even with signifigant memories like the existence of Jade now eluding them after they lost their old legs.
It remained, and it was pestering Phos.
It hadn't been long since those words were said, but it didn't change the fact that it stuck with Phos unpleasantly. Of all things that they would forget purely because they had difficulty listening to others, they wish they could have forgotten that thought, and the words that followed it.
They wish, perhaps, that they could forget the feeling altogether. Because if it weren't for that sensation, and if it weren't for what Diamond said- then Phos might not be so afraid to speak to Cinnabar, to reach out to them, or to slip up near them, or even to simply exist in their presence. Maybe then Phos could save them without all the distance.
Maybe that too, was an excuse...
Cinnabar was so bright against the night sky. So beautiful in their solitude. Yet so melancholic. Phos wanted to ease their burden. They needed to be needed, and Cinnabar was their only chance.
It was a wordless thing, yet Diamond wanted Phos to categorize the feeling...?
Didn't they know better?
Could the regard that Diamond held for Bort... and that Phos held for Cinnabar... could that be named? Could it be categorized and excruciatingly dissected and described in the encyclopedia Phos had been tasked with writing?
Staring at Cinnabar, Phosphophyllite felt that there was no harder task. Not even finding them an enjoyable job.
The night air cooled Phosphophyllite's body, blades of grass tickling their chin from where they were lying. Cinnabar must have been able to feel the cold air, and they must have been able to feel the grass at their feet, but surely they could not feel Phosphophyllite's eyes on them, or whatever unnamed feeling was burdening Phos.
It would have to be Phophophyllite's burden alone, and Phos would dare not name it. Not even if Cinnabar caught them and demanded why they were stalking them from the safety of the underbrush.
Putting aside the fact that Phos would shatter from embarassment if they were caught, Cinnabar could never know the why of it. They just couldn't.
Because words failed Phosphophyllite. And whatever this was could not possibly be put in a word.