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Claudia’s hand against Madeleine’s hair is a gentle comfort; it is a soothing touch against the anxiety that Madeleine did her best to hide during preparation, unraveling the last of her nerves. Claudia strokes her hair tenderly as Louis' mouth works against the side of her neck, and she does not move away. Louis’ fangs press harshly into Madeleine’s flesh— a jarring pinprick of pain so unlike Claudia’s touch— and saliva begins to pool in the dip of her clavicle, but the unpleasantness is a distant feeling when she can feel Claudia right beside her.
All of the previous foreboding Madeleine felt vanishes— melting away like it was never anything of substance at all— when she focuses on the point of contact between them. Claudia is Madeleine’s anchor against the sudden surplus of vivid emotions, keeping her from slipping beneath the crashing waves of the sea, preventing her from never being seen or heard from again. Memories dance through Madeleine’s eyesight, visions of past longings, but they feel like a distant thing when faced with a future that, for once, is well within her reach.
It is a wonderful thing to be held so close, isn't it?
Madeleine’s vision has begun to go hazy, darkening at the edges and tittering with noise, and all Madeleine can think is yes, this fits. Her mouth falls open in a gasp, and she can not fully tell if it is from the pain, the wonder at the feeling of it, or both. In the end, Madeleine supposes it doesn't matter all that much. In the end, Louis stumbles away, bloodied and worn out, and it is Claudia who is left cradling her body close to her own, whispering comforts as she stares transfixed at her.
As the newness of being transformed wracks Madeleine’s frame, Claudia is there to witness. Despite the pain, there is a gentle intimacy to it— to being seen and had. The world moves both too fast and too slow around Madeleine, feeling like it could be pulled away from her at any moment, and still, Claudia remains. She always remains, and Madeleine hopes she always will. She feels a bit like she is floating, but she is not lonely in the feeling of it. Through the seemingly endless darkness, Claudia floats beside Madeleine, holding her hair back.
The intensity of everything should not surprise Madeleine, but it is startling all the same. It is one thing to be told and it is another to read journals littered with evidence, but even that is not enough of a preparation to truly know. The experience is so unlike anything Madeleine has ever felt before. She can see Claudia's lips moving, but over the rest of the noise, she can not quite understand what she is saying. It feels like a flame has been lit beneath Madeleine’s feet, and all she wants to do now is run. In the cover of darkness, she wants to take Claudia's hand in hers and run, mindless of where exactly they are headed.
They've had a plan— of where to go, of who to be with each other— but through the sudden whirlwind of new textures, Madeleine can not remember it. She inexplicably finds herself wanting to run home, but she doesn’t need to run to get to that anymore, does she?
Her home now is, quite simply, with her companion, Claudia. Her home is with beautiful Claudia who is made even more beautiful when blood drips down her chin and stains her clothes. Madeleine did not think it was possible to love someone as much as she loves Claudia, yet—
Madeleine's home, until the day they step willingly into the fire together, is with Claudia. Because that’s what it’ll have to come down to in the end, isn’t it? Not a moment before, and not a moment after. It is a hopeful thing to know they have eternity together, and it is a hopeful thing to know that eternity only lasts as long as they choose for it to last together. The only way they’d end would be together. If her companion were to decide to step into the fire, Madeleine knows she would follow.
Wherever Madeleine goes, she knows it will be with Claudia by her side. She would follow her anywhere— to the ends of the Earth and then further if that’s where Claudia wants to run to— and it will be an exploration of home because anywhere is home with Claudia.
If Madeleine’s lifetime has been a map meant to find a home, then her undeath is the X.
And later, in the dying embers of a previously consuming fire, Claudia will still be the X. It is not as they planned, but it is an unavoidable truth. When a crescendo of light dances loudly and forebodingly through the air, when a pair of arms tighten around a shaking form, Madeleine will know.
This is the X.