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It’s quiet aboard the starship Aurora.
This isn’t unusual for this band of space pirates. It is quite natural for the crew to be in a similar sort of lull during one of their long journeys through time and space. The twinkling stars pass them, sending soft waves of light through the darkened windows. Uncountable beings with narratively boring wars waging on unremarkable planets pass in the starship's trail, distances away, untouched by the rowdy crews' antics. The peaceful quiet walks through the halls of the starship as the Mechanisms cruise on.
Or they could be dead.
Sometimes the quiet is simply because everyone else aboard is dead. But that’s okay, they’ll get over it eventually. Preferably before Brian lands at their next destination. For now, Jonny d'Ville enjoys the quiet.
The only other person confirmed living and in the library is Ivy, as she is prone to be. Reading a book or two at a time. In the corner on her bean bag throne that Jonny has been profusely banned from touching after this century's latest “Incident.” (The “Incident” this time involving a rather slippery octokitten and a rusty fork.) All is still and soundless around the Archivist. Not a sound audible in her trove of useless knowledge. Even the flip of her pages is nearly inaudible. Maybe it’s gettin' t'be too quiet, Jonny begins to think, choosing to ignore the consistent, unceasing ticks of his heart.
Jonny, seated a bit away on the uncomfortable floor, has his own book in clammy hands. He’s not entirely sure what it’s about, what with it being in a completely alien language. He had grabbed it from one of the closest piles of discarded novels strewn across the floor at the library’s entrance. It had a nice picture of a little princess on the front, done in beautiful practiced strokes of watercolor paint. He wished he knew what it was about. It looked interesting enough, judging by the cover. If he could just read the book the quiet wouldn’t have been so oppressive. He closes its cover and starts tapping it against his knees.
Tap Tap Tap in rhythm with his too-loud, too-quiet mechanism.
Despite the disturbance in the lull, Ivy does not look up. She doesn’t even give him a quirk of her brow in acknowledgement. Not that she’s known for quirking her brow in any way, really. That title would go to the curious Baron, currently bloodied and deceased by Jonny’s revolver down by the kitchen. Man, he’s hungry. Maybe Ivy would like to grab a bite with-
He watches her flip another page wordlessly. No, he thinks, there’s no damn way I could grab her attention away from those books. He opens his book back up again. The words have yet to magically translate themselves to something more familiar. He brushes his hand across the page, feeling its smooth, inked texture. If he’s not allowed to enjoy its story, he will damn well at least enjoy it somehow. He violently rips a page out and chews it with an open mouth. This, finally, grabs Ivy’s attention.
“Jonny?” she asks with confused eyes now on the cowboy.
He swallows the bite. “Yes, Ivy?”
“Why is it that you are eating my book?”
“Hungry.”
“Ah. Would you please refrain from doing so?”
“M’ consuming knowledge.” Jonny responds around a mouth full of chapter three.
“Jonny, that is not-”
“I know that’s not what it means, Ivy!” He chucks the book at her head, missing gloriously, but managing to topple a precarious tower of books behind her. Their thud is muffled by the soft carpet underneath. Ivy does not flinch.
“I do not compute.”
“Argh!” he flings his arms around wildly and throws his head back. “It’s too damn quiet here!”
“This is a library. They are meant to be quiet.”
“That’s not-! Ugh, it’s just too quiet. I can hear my fucking heart! It’s so FUCKING LOUD!”
The ticking of his heart seems louder after his shouting. The Archivist doesn’t respond.
“...Ivy?”
Finally, she puts down her books. She abandons her castle of novels and her turquoise throne, leaving a hollow cave where her body had laid for hours days. She takes light steps towards the cowboy, skirt swirling around her legs like small waves. The Tick Tick Ticking of Jonny’s heart grows even louder in his ears with every step. He can feel his blood rushing through his veins. She’s not doing anything particularly blush worthy, but the way she glides his way has his cheeks coloring all pink and shit. Kneeling down to his level, her knees let out a symphony of cracks in that old-bones kind of way despite her eternal youth. Her hand comes up to cradle his cheek. He leans into it. Their lips meet.
It's slow at first. Lips sliding against each other. Up and down and up again. Pushing and pulling and begging for more. They deepened the kiss not too long into this passionate embrace. If not for the Good Doctors magic, he's sure the Archivist would be the death of him now. The ticking of a mechanical abomination growing faster. A short-circuit in his heart system, no longer able to function without her. This close, Jonny can hear the soft whirring coming from Ivy's own mechanism. It's comforting, juxtaposing the jagged, not so developed ticking noises from his own chest. He wonders privately if it ever gets to her as well.
Neither of them are silent anymore. Moans and groans echo and reverberate against the ship's many metal halls beyond. If anyone else were alive, they wouldn’t be able to drown them out. Books that lay underneath him poked at his sides. It was uncomfortable, yet he couldn't be bothered. Jonny felt the artificial gravity hold him tight. He pulled Ivy down with him, as close as she could be. Arms wrapped around her middle, holding her in place. Her own hands doing the same, though not as tight and much more curious. If the floors and the wall panels of the ship were to suddenly detach from each other and drift away into the vast expanse, Jonny would not let her go even then. Let them float to the suns beyond the yet to form universes. Let them be consumed by the great Yog-Sothoth itself. He will keep her close.
Until finally, they let each other go.
They part in panting breaths, eyes still locked on one another, unable to look away. Ivy sat up to allow Jonny some space. She pushes some loose strands of red hair away from her eyes. Jonny straightened his belts almost nervously. His hair needed no fixing from the mess it was previously in, but still he gave it a cursory fingered comb anyway. Around them books have toppled from their high places. Stories lay open and exposed, naked for anyone to view but no one around to read them. In the absence of their – let's be blunt here – aggressive snogging, the pair welcome back the silence with smiles.
Ivy stood up and offered her hand to Jonny. He took it wordlessly. Another kiss before they began moving to her original seat. The bean bags fill parting and reshaping itself to make room for the both of them. Now seated, Ivy bends down and picks up the book Jonny had earlier used as a weapon against her. The princess cover peeks through at him between her fingers. She opened the book to the first page and began to trail her finger along the lines. Though the flipping pages remained just as silent as before, her voice filled the empty spaces around them. Characters came to life as Jonny followed the story in his mind. The princess was a war criminal it turns out. A familiar tale among this crew, really. And when Ivy reached the chapter Jonny tore out, its remnants now settled inside his stomach, she did not stutter. Her mechanism allowing her to recount the tale in translation even without the words present. It was beautiful.
Jonny let himself lean into Ivy's side, enjoying the warmth of her body. If she opposed the proximity, she did not vocalize it. He settled in for the story, finally content with the silence.