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Alarak sighed, lowering himself onto his bed and beginning to carefully remove the prosthetic from his leg. His mind kept racing, turning Ri’kara’s odd behaviour over and over to try and find some sort of explanation.
His claws tapped the metal, and he frowned. They had been much better; she had expressed forgiveness, and they had finally fallen into their routine together. What could have got into her?
He had been walked back to their shared home by Alba again that afternoon. She had already been there, her usually pleased expression falling into that neutral frown as soon as she saw them both at the threshold. Once again, she had greeted him curtly, and when he had left…
Their fight had been short. He regretted being so harsh with her, but her behaviour around his friend had been as though she hated seeing him around anyone that wasn’t her, and it had been grating on him. She had that look on her face as she retreated to her room, and he hadn’t seen her since.
The only conclusion he could draw was jealousy; something she had already vehemently insisted was ridiculous when he had tried to question her about it. That had only made him more suspicious; what could she have possibly been so jealous about?
A knock at his door stopped the train of thought. The silence that followed caused him to glance at the knife on the nightstand close by, momentarily tensed for an intruder.
“Alarak?”
He relaxed almost immediately despite his housemate’s oddly hesitant tone.
“What is it?”
“… We need to talk.”
Without getting up, Alarak allowed the door to open, revealing Ri’kara very awkwardly standing in the doorway, playing with her hands as she always did when nervous.
“Ri’kara?”
“I-I’m sorry, I know it’s getting late—”
Cutting her off, he gestured to the bed, ignoring the unnecessary apology. “Sit. What is the matter?”
Her face and crest were a light lilac, strange even for her nervous demeanour. Carefully, she padded over and hopped up next to him, lacing her fingers together. She couldn’t even look him in the eye, clear shame resting over her features.
It set him on edge, more than her earlier behaviour had. He lightly frowned, watching her as she slowly lifted a hand and pulled the two decorations from the cord they had been threaded onto. The silence was oppressive. He wished she would just speak—
“You were right.”
His eyes narrowed.
“… About?”
The hand holding the decorations clenched, and she looked down at her lap.
“What you said to me earlier. I am jealous. Seeing you both together just makes me want to be petty and angry all over again even though I know it isn’t right.”
Her spare hand passed over her quickly darkening crest.
“That isn’t fair to you. Why should I have any right to dictate your actions? You were right to have called me out on that. I haven’t even given you an answer and I am getting mad that you decided to move on, getting mad that you decided it was time to stop being strung along by my indecision…”
Moved on? A puzzle piece fell into place, and their earlier spat suddenly pulled into focus how cagey she had been around his new Judicator friend specifically, how her tone with him never moved past that professional air it gained with those she didn’t wish to be around.
He moved to say something, but she didn’t even seem to notice; it was as though a dam had burst.
“I am proud that you have settled in so well, proud that you are making friends and forming connections; for all you have been through, you seem to finally be somewhat comfortable in a way that I know you couldn’t have ever been while Highlord.
Part of me can’t help but look at that and feel like I’m too late. The way he looks at you… It makes my blood boil; I have never felt anything this intensely, even when you were interacting with the Hierarch...”
Alarak tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing as he began to realise where she might be going with her sudden tirade.
“There is this horrible, selfish voice in my head that wants you to myself even though you are not mine and never will be if I don’t just… say something. If I say nothing, then this whole thing will have been as pointless as if you had never bothered to apologise for what you did.”
Finally, he found a silence he could fill, trying to catch her eyes as she actively avoided his gaze. “Ri’kara, what exactly are you trying to say?" The question was redundant; he suddenly knew the answer deep in his chest and he had no idea if he was ready to hear it—
“Look, it’s… It’s maddening just how long I have been in love with you.”
She sighed, placing both hands in her lap, palms up as she examined the two clasps resting in them just to continue avoid looking at his reaction.
“I was honestly willing to take it to my grave once upon a time, but I really can’t go without saying it any longer; I might go mad.”
He hadn’t been ready for it, of course. No matter how many times he had played the scenario in his mind, it didn’t prepare him for how hearing her confession froze him in place, how his hearts suddenly, painfully, began a fast sprint that somehow slowed the seconds that ticked by to a crawl. The silence as he watched her consider what she would say next was agonising.
Her voice was suddenly firm when she finally broke it. “Alarak.”
Dragging himself out of his almost panicked trance, he sat up a little straighter. “What?”
Her shoulders sagged and she lifted her hands out to him, still unable to look him in the eye even as she let out a short, wry chuckle.
“Put me out of my misery. Please. I said I’d ask when I wanted to hear it, and I’m asking now for you to say it if it’s still true. If not, I want you to take both. I’ll be there for you no matter your choice.”
In that one moment, all he could do was return her laugh, a sudden, uncontrollable release of tension rather than any expression of joy.
“What? What’s funny?” She frowned, body suddenly tensed.
“Your idea that I have moved on at all.” Alarak bent forward, finally caught her eye. “Ri’kara, do you truly believe that decades upon decades of buried yearning would simply go away in a few years? That a handsome Templar could blink his pretty blue eyes at me, and I would forget why I am here?”
He didn’t let her respond, instead taking her worn, brass decoration from her palm, and holding it tightly in his organic fist. Part of him needed to be as direct as possible, or he might lose the little courage he had suddenly gained. He made sure to keep her looking at him, putting as much emphasis as he could on the next three words despite their strange shape.
“I love you. That is the truth.”
She trembled, staring at him and then at the clasp still in her palm. Her eyes welled with tears and then she balled her hand into a fist, pressing it to her face as she began to sob, barely able to get her next words out. “I love you too, I do, I—"
She curled up, clutching the thing tightly, her words pouring a deep, raw set of emotions over him like a bucket of warm water. He wondered for a moment exactly how intensely he had done the same to her considering her reaction.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry it took so long… I’m sorry I treated you so horribly…”
She kept sobbing, shaking where she had doubled over. Carefully, cautiously, he reached out his prosthetic hand and placed it on her back, rubbing back and forth.
It seemed to bring her to her senses, and she slightly uncurled, looking up at him with large, wet eyes.
Before he even knew what was happening, she had lunged at him, putting her arms around his neck, and pressing herself as tightly as she could to his chest. Her sobs somehow became worse. Alarak completely froze all over again. Her hearts were hammering harder than his own, and after another moment of hesitation, he finally allowed himself to put his arms around her.
Her face buried itself in the crook of his neck and he carefully adjusted his grip to hold her more tightly. He could still barely believe any of it was happening at all, but he somehow managed to keep himself focused, to give her some comfort.
“You are fine, Ri’kara, it is fine.”
“I told you I thought it was better if you died! I made you feel bad for making friends! I was so angry and cruel, and you didn’t deserve half of it…”
“I have told you that I did deserve the former; I hurt you. You have such a penchant for blaming yourself for reasonable reactions.”
She tried to protest again, but her words devolved into sobs that quieted slowly as the minutes ticked by and he continued to hold her. Finally, she pulled back to look at him, vapour still evaporating around her eyes.
“I’m sorry…”
He hesitated, and then carefully cupped her face with his prosthetic hand. It struck him then how small she was as she relaxed slightly against the warm metal and let her eyes slip closed. It felt appropriate to gently rub his thumb back and forth over her cheek, and her grip loosened enough around his neck that he could move to get more comfortable.
Finally, she blinked, and carefully let go of him, moving back out of his grip and looking incredibly embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to throw myself at you like that—"
Alarak rolled his eyes, deciding not to grace her comment with a retort and pulling her back into the embrace. She froze at first, and then awkwardly lay her head on his shoulder. Her eyes welled with more tears, and she melted against his chest, rolling his cord decoration between her fingers. He couldn’t help but soften slightly, though he cut her off as she moved to speak again.
“I will go mad if I hear you utter one more apology tonight, Ri’kara.”
That made her laugh a little through another sob. “I-I wasn’t going to…”
“Are you alright?”
“… I think I am now.” She rubbed her cheek against his skin. “Does he hate me?”
“Alba?” He scoffed. “No; I would be hard pressed to find many that disliked you. He believes you dislike him, however.”
“I don’t, he’s nice, I was just being… Petty.”
“And foolish.”
“No need to rub it in.” Her tone was lighter, and she laced her cord back through the ring, putting it back into its usual spot. Somehow, that brought him a wave of relief. “I’ll… apologise to him the next time I see him. He doesn’t deserve it…”
“I am sure he will understand.”
Her nod was half-hearted even if she had calmed down. He gave her a gentle squeeze and tried to redirect the subject to perk her up.
“How long have you known?”
“Too long.” She laughed again. “I… That first event that we were forced into. I had suspected beforehand that something was different but that night when we danced, I knew immediately. It was horrible.”
“How amusing; I realised on the same night.” He laughed in turn. “It was one of the most irritating realisations that I have ever had.”
“Is that what your little moody talk was about the day after? I thought it had been about the Hierarch.”
“Tch, ‘moody’… It was. Partially. I thought your little comment about dealing with similar emotions was about that Nerazim—”
“I have no idea how. You saw how he looked at me the night before.” She involuntarily shuddered with the memory. “I’m sure you felt stupid about it later after everything else.”
“Perhaps.”
“… I still didn’t even think you could possibly have any feelings for me after that summer celebration either. Somehow.”
“It was the first time I considered the possibility that you may have feelings for me, though I was quick to dismiss it for a lapse in judgement.” He smirked a little, tilting his head. “I was a fool to do so; you were certainly needy that night.”
Her face scrunched slightly into something of a pout as she grumbled softly, turning purple all over again. “It was a lapse in judgement.”
“Of course it was.”
“You shush, it was your idea in the first place!”
“As though I was expecting you to throw yourself at me with such enthusiasm.” His smirk grew. “You seem to have a habit of doing that.”
She gave him a withering look, inspecting her claws and rolling her eyes as though it could mask her obvious embarrassment. “Anyway, we agreed it never happened.”
Chuckling softly, Alarak leant close, watching the colour of her face deepen further. “I believe we can review the terms of that little bargain, don’t you?”
Ri’kara immediately froze, staring at him with wide eyes. He suddenly became very aware of how close they were; he could hear her hearts hammering, feel the heat of her blush, count the number of rounded freckles across her face.
“M-maybe.” Was all she could stutter out before she impulsively hid her face against his shoulder, breaking the spell. “Don’t look at me like that.”
Patting her back, he tried not to laugh at her reaction. “And why not?”
“Because.”
“A compelling argument, Ri’kara.” Teasing her was useful; it offset his own odd reaction at being that close, at even being allowed to hold her the way that he was.
She made another cute little grumbling sound and patted his chest reproachfully. “I should go to bed anyway. Now that… whatever this is has been cleared up. I am still sorry for earlier, though. I don’t like to fight with you.”
“I believe that this has more than made up for that. I apologise for how harsh I was; I do not enjoy fighting with you either.”
“… I deserved it that time.”
Gently, he took Ri’kara off his lap and put her down on the mattress to finally finish removing his prosthetic, peeling off the underlayer that she had insisted he wear after she had fixed his old one while he wondered if he should say what he wanted to.
“You may sleep in here if you wish.”
“That’s… Are you sure?”
He shrugged. “As though it is any different from napping in the sunroom. I would also prefer for you to have company after seeing you in such a state.”
“It… Is different. Not that I can fully explain why.” The purple across her face and crest had deepened again, and she watched as he sat back and lifted his good leg up so he could lie down. “I’ll be alright now, I think, but… If you’re offering…”
“If it helps, I would like it if you accepted the offer.” He got comfortable, rolling onto his side and keeping his back to her, placing her clasp on the small nightstand.
“… You’ll probably need a chain for that now. I can get one.”
“That would be useful, yes.”
There was a few moments of silence, and then he heard the shuffle of fabric as she got close behind him, gentle, cool hands removing his prosthetic arm. For once, he didn’t have the urge to flinch.
“You should also take this one off more often, you know. The skin needs to breathe.” Her voice was suddenly as soft as her touch had been, and he found himself relaxing just slightly.
“I’d prefer to have both hands.”
“And if I’m going to sleep in here, I’d prefer not to get hit with a metal arm again.” She giggled a bit, hopping off the bed to move both prosthetics over to his side where they were in reach. “Explaining the bruise it left the next day was mortifying.”
Once she was on the bed again, he kept his back to her. She was right, it was different from how it would have been during the day. It felt odd, new, particularly when she leant over him and planted a cautious little spark on his crest, her cords trailing themselves over his shoulder as she bent down.
“’Night.” She almost whispered before moving away and settling down on her own side.
“… Goodnight.”
It wasn’t until later, when Alarak heard a soft psionic snoring, that he rolled over to look at her all tucked up and comfortable. She hugged her pillow close, curled up with her face half-buried in the fabric and all her cords trailing out from under the sheets like snakes.
He once again felt a wave of relief wash over him. It hadn’t quite sunk in, even after their conversation, that she wouldn’t be relapsing into the hateful ball of fury he had turned her into, that he was finally able to have what he had died for. Now, watching the slight rise and fall of her shoulders between the softest little purrs, it suddenly felt real.
Carefully, he got close, tucking the stump of his arm under the part of her pillow that was under her head. For a moment, she stirred, and he froze, letting her settle again before he moved his own pillow to where he could rest on it and loosely wrapped his good arm around her middle, pulling the curve of her back against his chest.
Finally, he very gently returned the spark, watching her smile a little in her sleep before laying his head down and drifting off for himself.
Ri’kara was pulled gently from her slumber by a soft, low rumble. The sound rose and fell in the rhythm of slow, steady breathing as she nuzzled her face against something warm and soft. She couldn’t move much, wrapped in that same warmth that made her reluctant to open her eyes even as she became more aware of her surroundings.
It was only once she was fully awake that she realised she was rising and falling slightly with the sound. Her eyes snapped open, her vision greeted by the sloping curve of Alarak’s chest, white cracked with jagged purple scarring.
Almost immediately, she felt her face and crest get hot, trying to wriggle a little out of his vice-like grip; even his stump was wrapped as much as it could around her body.
It had to be a dream. She raised her head slightly, catching sight of her cord decoration sat on the little windowsill, and remembered.
Still, even with the realisation that she was supposed to be right where she was, safe and warm in his arms, she couldn’t relax any more. It suddenly felt odd, strange, like finally stepping out into Aiur’s sunlight all those decades ago and realising how much Slayn’s pits had starved her. Her chest twisted, and she very softly spoke.
“Alarak.”
Almost immediately, the sound stopped, and his eyes snapped open, his grip tightening for a moment as he shook off the sleepiness that fogged his mind still.
“What?”
His voice was gruff, a little slurred. Usually when he woke from a nap he was immediately alert…
From through the sheer fabric of the curtains, Ri’kara noted how high the sun was, how late in the day it was. She had barely ever slept for so long.
“I’m a little trapped.”
He blinked, finally uncurling his arm and his stump from around her, his only hand slipping across her back as he did so. For a moment, he looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place, taking in how they had been lay. “So am I, it would seem.”
She nodded, sliding off his chest to rest on her back on the bed beside him instead.
“That was not a request to move.”
“Oh.”
Silence, awkward and somewhat tense, washed over them. Ri’kara stared up at the ceiling and wondered exactly how she was supposed to approach any of this. She knew how it was supposed to work in theory; she had watched her friends with their partners many times, but after so long wishing she could and being unable to, putting any of that yearning into shape was…
Alarak sat up with a soft sigh, rolling his shoulders and wincing slightly as the tendons popped and his bones settled, finally stretching with his back slightly turned towards her. From there, she could see that the sections of his spine poked out more prominently from the base of his neck until it disappeared again towards the base of it. Curiosity cut through the awkwardness, and she sat up too, carefully pushing his cords out of the way to gently run her hand along the bumps even as he flinched.
“Sorry.”
He turned his head to try and look at what she was doing, one brow raising in question.
“You have little spikes on your back.”
“I know.” He seemed a little baffled, as though she had just said the most obvious thing in the world. “What of it?”
“I just never noticed before. It’s… cute.”
She didn’t have to see his face to know how hard he rolled his eyes at the statement. “Tch. ‘Cute’.”
At the very least, he seemed to be open to the contact, letting her explore the mapped constellation of skin between large patches of scarring, most likely got from the early decades in the temples or as a Supplicant; he couldn’t have always worn that intricate armour he used to have. As her hand slipped down, tracing the bumps until she couldn’t feel them anymore, he suddenly made an odd sound, fully flinching away before turning to take both wrists loosely in his one hand.
“Don’t.”
His crest was slightly flushed, his expression an oddly flustered frown. She blinked at him, taking in the look and his strange reaction, and then a mischievous smile crept onto her face as she realised something.
“You’re ticklish?”
“No.” He answered too quickly, pulling her a bit closer. “Do not test that theory either.”
They stared each other down for a few moments, though the longer she looked into his eyes the more she began to feel flustered and a little uneasy, as though he might find something deep in the back of her head just by looking at her. She could feel a blush start to paint her face and crest, and she finally had to turn her head away, letting out a nervous little laugh.
“Alright, I won’t.”
“Good.”
He planted a spark on the back of each of her hands and then let go of her, pulling himself to the edge of the bed to put on both of his prosthetics.
All at once, the awkwardness was back. Carefully, she hopped off the bed, adjusting her robes a bit and lacing her fingers together.
“I-I’ll um… Go get dressed.”
Alarak tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he looked her up and down. “… Are you asking permission?” He chuckled softly. “Very unlike you, Ri’kara.”
“No, I’m, not, I just…” She shrugged, idly helping him put the protective sleeve over the stump of his arm so he could slot it comfortably into the mechanical replacement. As she was doing so, he caught her eye again, his expression reserved, cautious.
“Would you prefer we did not do that again?”
Immediately, Ri’kara waved both hands in front of herself, heartbeat quickening at the idea that she might have given him the wrong impression. “No! No, I want to, it was… nice. It was also just very—”
“Strange?”
She nodded, moving back so he could put his leg on. “I feel like… I’ve just arrived on Aiur again for the first time. I’m suddenly allowed many things I wasn’t before. Thinking of it and having it are two very different things.”
“We will not get used to it if we insist on continuing to shy away from it.”
“Yeah. I’ll… bring some of my things in here.”
“And a chain.” He leant back to pick up her cord decoration, holding it up for her to see. “If you would be so kind.”
Warmth filled her chest, and she nodded again, giving him a soft smile before heading to her own room.