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“There’s something you need to know about me.”
Well, that’s an ominous way to start a conversation and the kind of thing that always precedes a good thing.
Nearly asleep, the statement claws Raffi back from where she’s nearly drifted off on Seven’s shoulder. It’s early days for this thing she has with Seven, early enough that they’re still sleeping naked (okay, passing out from exertion is a more accurate description) and that the edge of vulnerability in Seven’s voice sends little alarm bells ringing in the back of Raffi’s mind.
While Raffi does not think things have moved quickly between them at all, she also gets the sense that Seven is a selective lover. Raffi wants to call it a relationship, this thing between them, but Seven’s work takes her all over the galaxy, and these days, it’s mostly an accomplishment if Raffi makes it out of bed. “Go for it.”
“I don’t necessarily process beauty in the way that people expect me to,” says Seven, tapping her ocular implant by way of explanation.
A gentle smile feathers over Raffi’s fake, the way a drop of oil can upon the surface of water. “Is this about where we’re going tomorrow?” she asks. “Because you don’t have to worry. I said I wanted to take you to one of my favorite places, not yours. If you don’t like it, that’s fine. I just want to uh, share this little piece of myself with you.
“I see,” Seven replies, her voice a bit stiff. Raffi thinks that settles it and prepares herself for a night of recovery from the kind of sex that makes her legs feel less like air and more like water, but then the bed shifts, and Seven’s lips brush the corner of Raffi’s mouth. “Thank you.”
Drowsily, semi-deliriously, Raffi reaches over and tucks Seven’s hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure what you’re thanking me for, but I am thankful for you.”
Seven kisses her again, this time on the mouth, deeply, and the two of them proceed to not sleep for another two hours, at least.
The problem with this, of course, is that they were meant to go to said place at sunrise, but since that isn’t an option anymore (read: leaving one’s snuggly bed with one’s snuggly paramour), Raffi calibrates for sunset instead, and happily spends the day mostly in bed, vaguely hoping that Seven doesn’t get called away on some mission while they’re here. But also, she’s kind of too tired to care about that too much.
Sunset is a good call. She feels extremely refreshed, and Seven replicates a light dinner that Raffi contributes to by creating her galaxy famous (in her opinion anyway) soda floats.
Hand in hand, they come outside into the chill and walk the forest, which has turned a rich, saturated mosaic of reds, oranges, and golds in time for the oncoming harvest. Against the rose-saffron of the sky, the entire world looks to be on fire – but then a cool breeze ruffles both women’s hair, and Raffi grips Seven’s hand more tightly, only to find that Seven has already done the same to her.
“I know that a lot of worlds have an autumn,” says Raffi, as they advance into the forest, leaves crackling beneath their feet, “but there’s this one flora growth here that reaches its height during the harvest. When everything is kind of having its last dance, it’s just beginning. Experiencing its own kind of spring. And if you look at its growing cycle, that’s kind of what it does. Its life starts in autumn, it reaches the height of its growth in winter when most things won’t grow, but then it fades before the warmth hits, because it’s evolved to thrive in the kind of conditions that most can’t survive in.”
Raffi doesn’t know exactly where the blooms are – she’s just walking until she sees something. A peek of turquoise captures the corner of her eyes, and when they round a particularly large tree, there it is – a field of teal and purple in the middle of all of that tangerine pigment. It’s somewhat of an oasis, and Seven wraps her arm around Raffi’s shoulders. “Did you relate to it?”
Raffi shakes her head. “Not back then. I’d come here with my grandmother and I just thought it was pretty, not like most things you see where I grew up. But now? Yeah, there’s a certain poetry to it.”
Seven kisses Raffi’s temple. “I like it too.”
Raffi makes a politely pleasant noise in response, because when Seven tells Raffi something about herself, Raffi believes her, and Raffi really doesn’t expect Seven to have a strong feeling about this place either way.
Perhaps Seven understands that, and so she continues. “The poetry of it speaks to me too. Also, it provides a really nice backdrop for you.” Raffi has worn a jacket out here, but she fastened it in a hurry, so Seven touches the edge of Raffi’s purple tank top underneath. “Did you dress to match the flowers?”
Raffi laughs. “No.”
“But they match you,” says Seven, and for a moment, Raffi just takes her in. There is such a radiance to Seven, the kind that only comes after a long time spent in this world, with plenty of experience under one’s belt. Now that Raffi thinks about it, Seven reminds her of those flowers too, thriving in conditions that many wouldn’t want to touch.
“Come here,” says Raffi.
The wind whips leaves into the air around them as they kiss.
Magic.