Work Text:
Her Spirit spreads love over her body like spreading butter over homemade bread, warm and soft and comforting to feed on—when her Spirit uses Valentina’s hand to stroke her own hair, it brings a song of peace over her, a choir of adoration singing self-crafted hymns. She exhales as her body is illuminated with seafoam and lime—that green light they’d talk about in literature before she left for space—the indicator of her Spirit’s presence and the only calm in this vast void. Her friends are dead outside of the airlock, but her Spirit is alive within her—bursting and boiling with it, with love in its purest energy form, living in Valentina’s body—all for her, just for her.