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Kurloz was lazily knitting against a wall, hands flitting over needles and purple yarn. Porrim had been happy to teach him, and it gave him something to do in the monotony of the dream bubbles. There was something satisfying about watching fabric coming together out of twisted cords of thread, and it was just as satisfying to pull apart at the end, each stitch coming apart with a little jolt.
Stab, twist, and tuck the needle through: a rhythm that Kurloz’s fingers were becoming quicker and quicker to carry out.
“Kulozzzz!!” The mangled version of his name was shouted from above him, and Kurloz looked up to see Mituna running along the top of the wall that Kurloz was leaning against.
Predictably, Mituna slipped just as Kurloz looked up at him, and went sideways with a little shriek.
Kurloz dropped the knitting and caught his moirail, who had curled up to try and minimize the fall.
Finding himself unharmed and in Kurloz’s lap, Mituna scrambled up. “Dnn touch now!!” he complained, brushing off his arms. Kurloz held up his hands, showing that he was no longer reaching for Mituna. His moirail could be picky about when and how he was touched, which Kurloz could understand. Mituna wasn’t wearing his helmet, and his hair was chaotic as usual.
HOW ARE YOU? Kurloz signed, raising his eyebrows to signify the question.
Mituna scowled, showing his little fangs, and plopped down cross-legged across from Kurloz.
“Fucked sll thought,” he said, grumpy. “Flcking toddler brainer.”
DO YOU WANT YOUR PACIFIER?
Kurloz had always enjoyed the sign for pacifier, as if he was placing it in his own mouth.
“Not a babybrains.”
Kurloz raised an eyebrow, making the sign for pacifier again. Mituna bared his teeth, a baby troll gesture of aggression from before their horns grew in properly. Kurloz waited, and sure enough, Mituna frowned and nodded after a few seconds.
“Stills not frcking baby,” Mituna declared, sticking out a hand.
Kurloz smiled, stitches tugging at the corners of his mouth as he dug Mituna’s pacifier out of his pocket. Between Mituna and Meulin, he always had a collection of baby gear in the pockets of his suit, making him think about adding a bag to his usual outfit. He wasn’t sure where he would find one here in the dream bubbles, but he could always tell Horuss to make him one.
Mituna snatched the pacifier from Kurloz’s hand and popped it into his mouth, still managing to pout with his whole body, even with his mouth covered by the yellow plastic guard. Kurloz nodded and flashed a thumbs-up, tapping his smiling mouth.
“Efrenv’sh,” Mituna said, his usually slurred speech utterly incomprehensible from behind the pacifier. Kurloz bobbed his head as if he’d made perfect sense. “Snnnf’rm?” Kurloz continued to smile as Mituna babbled, waving a hand this time as if to make a point. “Krlw’nrt!”
Catching on that Mituna was asking for something, Kurloz raised his hands and asked YOU WANT TO GO AWAY?, pointing back where Mituna had gone. COME? He added as a second option, gesturing to his open arms.
Mituna shook his head, vigorous enough to spin his hair into new tangled formations, then tried to get to his feet and fell over sideways. Clearly disoriented, Mituna managed to get back onto his knees and crawled over to Kurloz, poking his leg.
“Krlsnnfrm?”
SIGN? Kurloz asked.
Mituna made a series of gestures that did not remotely resemble sign language, most of them involving hitting himself in the side of the head. Although he understood Kurloz, Mituna’s own use of sign language was even more spotty than his speech capability.
Kurloz shrugged, showing Mituna that he’d not understood any of that.
Mituna sighed and dropped his head down on Kurloz’s leg, a familiar position from his regression. Kurloz twisted his gloved fingers in Mituna’s hair, so much finer than the yarn that had been abandoned beside him. Mituna made a happy moirail rattle in his throat and settled down, tension draining from his body. Kurloz felt himself relax as well, relieved to no longer be guessing what Mituna wanted from him.
The two of them sat there for a while, Mituna’s little purring rattles breaking the silence every so often. It was one of Kurloz’s favourite sounds, a troll at their most comfortable and trusting. If they had been back on their home planet, they would have needed to worry about the oncoming dawn, and finding shelter from the dangerous light. Here in the dream bubbles, there was no change of time unless you went from one area to another, and they could sit out in the peaceful evening light for as long as they wanted.
Lulled into a sense of peace, Kurloz took a second too long to realize that Mituna had gone unusually still.
Immediately, Kurloz twisted around and dragged Mituna away from the wall, as gently as he could while still moving quickly. Sure enough, he had barely moved his moirail when Mituna started to convulse, and Kurloz tugged the pacifier out of his mouth before retreating to a safe distance. Mituna’s full-body seizures weren’t unusual, and they weren’t dangerous if he wasn’t at risk of falling, but Kurloz still wanted to keep close. Kurloz crossed his legs, leaning forward to watch over him.
Count the seconds, keep his breathing controlled. Kurloz tapped his fingers against each other, keeping the rhythm of his own body steady even as he watched his moirail shake on the ground.
This one was a long one for Mituna, lasting over two minutes before he finally went limp. Kurloz moved over when he was sure it was safe, not directly touching Mituna but lying down beside him in easy reach. Mituna blinked his eyes open and touched his jaw, moving it in a way that made it clear he must have hurt it clenching down. Seeming to conclude it would get better soon, he looked around and beamed when he saw Kurloz.
“Kurloz!!!!” Mituna scooted over and rolled himself into his moirail’s arms, and Kurloz pulled him in. “Kurloz, sing fme?” He tapped Kurloz’s throat, making it even clearer what he was asking for.
Kurloz pressed his stitched lips to Mituna’s forehead in his version of a kiss, and obediently began to hum.
Back when the two of them were younger, and the game that ended the world had not yet begun, Mituna used to love Kurloz’s singing voice. It was one of his most common requests, whether he was sad or regressed or tired. “Kurloz, sing to me?” And Kurloz would curl up on the chair with his headset on, Mituna’s voice in his ear, and he would sing until he heard Mituna’s little rattling snores over their call.
Kurloz wasn’t used to making any vocalization anymore: he didn’t even make the subvocal rattles and clicks that were used for communication between partners. Mituna, however, was an exception. For the memory of all the nights they had fallen asleep at their computers, listening to each other’s voices, Kurloz hummed familiar songs as Mituna curled against his chest.
“Mml’v you,” Mituna whispered.
Kurloz’s arms were too full of his moirail to sign a response, so he traced a diamond on Mituna’s back and hoped he understood. I love you too, little miracle.