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Cheering, reveling bodies crowd the battlefield — the field that used to be a part of Neverwinter. The spilled blood can’t compare to all the spilled tar, the spilled Hunger-parts, with all their flecks of opal colors fading — drained of life, disconnected — and Lup can only hope and pray, that somehow, some way, all that life and color is flowing back to where it came from. Worlds and worlds away, where she can’t see, to where she couldn’t restore it, but to where it should be —
Now, these chants all around her, these victory roars — they all sound like they’re worlds away. Lup’s incorporeal, phantasmal, missing her eardrums, missing shoulders to crash into other triumphant bodies with. Everything — everything feels distant, like — like the dream of defeating the Hunger had felt, for all those desperate years, like — like it just wasn’t real, like it wasn’t even close to being here yet —
“Lup? Lup, did you hear me? I was saying, I thought I was in purgatory, but it turns out, I — I actually just met God —”
Oh, thank God. That’s a voice that sounds like it is here, like it is real, thank fucking gods, thank Jeffandrew, thank who-the-fuck-ever. Like an anchor for her in the storm, a fixed point as the world spins around her, Taako is here, he’s with her, and — and he’s got such a brave, matter-of-fact face on. Like, yeah, he did just meet God — even if, even if the second Lup dives towards him, her sleeves phasing through his chest, his expression crumples — and his voice cracks, shatters into a million pieces, with his arms plunging helplessly through Lup’s ghostly form.
“The — the adrenaline’s quitting when I need it, f-fuck — I don’t, shit, I — hey, hold on, I think I just forgot to process, did we fucking do it? We — we fucking did it, Lup?”
“Taako —” She throws her arms around him, nuzzling down his cheek as she smothers him in ghostly red fabric, with the very bonds that she’s made of taking his arms, holding him close — but it’s not enough. They did fucking do it, but — but if only she could touch him, hold him, run her hands through his hair, then — then would that make it feel real, even just a little? If — if only she could press her forehead against his, would it snap her out of this liminal spiral, this disconnection all of her own — and make her feel right, make her feel things that were true, make her feel like it really is over? Like they really did do it? If only Lup could squeeze her brother tight, so tight it would prove to him that she’s never, ever letting him out of her sight again —
Her form phases through Taako’s, brushing against his soul, and just in time to feel such an incredulous, such a Taako voice in her head, asking — really, ME? out of YOUR sight? I’M the problem? — and Lup almost sobs, with just as much joy as grief, hearing him suddenly so indignant, so himself. But if only he could shake her, be the annoying big brother he is, and tell her she’s not allowed to disappear again — and if only she could shake him back, like the sad and stubborn sister she is, and tell him she’ll never let him forget again, never let him become that broken shadow of her Taako again —
Wait. Wait, wait, shit — there is a way to hold him and shake him. Lup can’t pick familiar footsteps out from the parade around her, not from that cacophonous stampede — but there’s one steady presence that her soul can feel approaching, one more sturdy anchor that she’d know anywhere. She reaches out to Barry, through their bonds, those threads that dangle off her blazing-bright lich form and wind their way into his dark and dormant one — and it feels so urgent, to beckon and pull him along this way, even as he closes the distance without a moment’s hesitation. His eyes are wide, with awe, and wet, with tears — a face that Lup needs, needs, almost primally needs, to take and bury in something soft and comforting right this instant — and Barry, he — he seems like he knows it.
“…Hey there,” he breathes, with so much reverence — gently taking Taako’s hand, as it passes through Lup’s form, and bravely not choking up as Taako’s lip quivers, “you called me, Lup?”
Oh, Barry. A million things Lup could say, but words are leaving her. She watches his fingers curl around Taako’s, and — and her chest burns with desperation, with — even with terrible, nonsensical, guilt-laced envy —
“Your — your body,” she chokes out, “I need — I have to — can I —”
She doesn’t get any further — but she doesn’t have to. Barry blinks, and wipes his cheek, and smiles so wide with his arms so open that it looks like it hurts — his answer is obvious, even before he declares —
“Get in here, and hug your fuckin’ brother, Lup.”
— and with a gasp of relief, she dives into his body, fire into his veins, like the ocean into a sponge. He staggers, not from pain — no, truly anything but, as he laughs — and it becomes Lup’s laugh, right there in his chest, as suddenly she smells, she feels, the smoke in the air, the sores on Barry’s feet — while bright summer sunlight beams from above, landing on real eyes, with real pupils that constrict, and optic nerves that lead to a brain that says light = serotonin, and other helpful neurotransmitters, and somewhere deeper, less described in the psych textbooks, an actual feeling that this is real, that this is over, that you’re out of the dark and things are actually going to be okay —
But oh, gods, fuck the light, though; Lup hasn’t fucking got time to sob about the light, because — because this is Taako squeezing her hand, her beautiful borrowed hand that’s gone grimy from blood, sweat, and tears — and she has been without her brother for long, long, long enough. She sweeps Taako into her arms, wrapping him up in her grasp like the sobbing, fucking life-changing gift that he is, as she presses his face right into Barry’s shoulder, and — and of course, presses Barry’s face into his. Taako’s arms snap tight around her back, Barry’s back, whoever’s back it is that feels Taako tremble, on-tempo with his own heavy breathing —
“Fuck,” Taako hisses, through tight-grit teeth, and right into Lup’s borrowed ear — where it’s a terrible, awful sound to hear at such close range, like some fucking wet, fucking snot-themed ASMR — but Lup doesn’t even care, no matter how hard she has to fight not to squirm. It’s a real, legitimate, up-close and personal disgusting brother noise — and gods damn it, he better not make it again, but isn’t it just a part of being alive? Just like his half-hearted whimper of irritation, as she knocks his hat sideways and ruffles his hair, mentally melting as her fingertips brush his curls — hell, she went gods-know how many years, something like a decade, without any stupid dorks with their dork-ass mullets for her to ruffle, but now? Now both her boys have one for her to play with? She doesn’t deserve this. She’s dying of mullet overexposure. She’s going to be double-dead, and her stupid husband and brother will be each others’ alibis for the murder —
Her hands run down Taako’s back, and — gods, if her own relief and joy somehow weren’t dizzying enough, then there would still be the sheer force of Barry’s. He’s with her in every moment, like he’s clinging to her robe, drifting along wherever she goes — and almost consumed by feeling over Taako hugging Lup, Lup hugging Taako, the twins reunited in his very own arms, and — oh, god, Lup could sob over how important that is to him, how important Lup having Taako, Taako having Lup is to Barry. Lup could just weep, and feel like an idiot for it — for breaking down into pieces over something so obvious, something that’s such a foregone conclusion, because — and Barry knows this just as well as she does — because Lup would’ve never fallen for him in the first place, never even dreamed of ascending to lichdom with him, had he not cherished everything about Lup and Taako, Taako and Lup along with her. Had he not loved their bond with all his heart, because — because say what you will, at least most of the time, about Lup’s stupid sense sense of judgment, her stupid stupid plan to hide the Gauntlet, even make the Relics to begin with — but she does know how to pick the perfect man. And now, she’s even got him back.
Oh, she’s just so fucking lucky, isn’t she. Just the thought of it makes her hiccup. And Barry, oh, she’s caught him red-handed, in a hidden corner of their shared brain, with his not-so-private thoughts, daring to think that he’s even luckier — for which she shakes him around, inside her head, and he sheepishly laugh-cries back at her, acquiescing —and trying just to fade into the back of his own mind, happy to the point of near-dissociation just to be here, and facilitate. But — but Lup can’t let him, and she doesn’t let him, before she even realizes why not — before, all of a sudden, she finds that she cannot shut out awareness of their shared heart pounding, their hands shaking, as they trace the seams on Taako’s bloodied vest — and more, as light that once was freeing becomes harsh, glaring, blinding to their eyes, and all Lup can think is — is — is just — Barry, please, Barry, please wait —
The scent of the Hunger reeks in their nostrils, choking and acerbic. Sweat pours everywhere, like glue for ash and dust to cling to their skin, and — and something’s ringing in their ears, louder and louder, higher and higher in pitch. It’s suddenly all so much. It’s all so bright and loud and textured, and it’s — it’s getting brighter and louder, it’s getting too much for Lup to ignore — it’s getting too much for her to handle, too much to even bear, on her own, when — when —
When every sensation she once craved is like its own ocean on top of her, crushing her, drowning her, keeping her from even knowing which way is up —
“Taako,” Barry rasps, to her rescue with weepy breaths, and a hoarse voice, “Taako, Lup needs — needs — needs space. And not — not — not this space —” He hiccups, hugging Taako tighter, like a muscle reflex none of them can control, “An — and f-fuck, we — we don’t wanna let go, but — but Taako, we — we can’t be here, I don’t — I don’t think either of us — of us can —”
“Fuck,” Taako echoes, squeezing a fistful of Barry’s shirt like a lifeline, and — and the two of them, the two bodies of them stagger, but — they stay standing. Taako breathes in hard —
“…Um. Shit. Was — was the pocket spa okay?” he manages, his last few words somehow coming out so gentle, despite it all — and before Lup can even scour her memories, string together anything she remembers from the damn umbrella about what this pocket spa even looks like — she feels relief from Barry, relief that fills his whole chest, and trusts him as he nods. Taako sniffles, and pries his arm away to pull something from his pocket, giving it a stilted toss onto the nearest empty ground — bouncing once, twice, three times, before it flips right-side-up and grows to the size of a tent with a thwomp. Like laminated paper wiggling and wobbling.
All around them, people back away. And with the glaring sunlight, with tears clouding Barry’s glasses, Lup can’t even tell if there’s familiar faces watching — but if Merle, or Magnus, or anyone else she loves comes searching for them, then… then surely, they’d see this spa-tent standing proud in hot pink, and — and know exactly where to look. So — so Lup won’t be disappearing on anyone, not — not again —
“Here. C’mon,” Taako mumbles, pulling Barry along along by the shoulder, and he ducks through the opening — as Lup, pulled along in more ways than one, chokes through a sob of relief, seeing how not a single wall or curtain inside is black. Her legs wobble, as she’s struck with the wave of fresh air, the first fresh air she’s truly smelled in all these years — how it’s humid, but cool and earthy, like — like a forest after it rained, and — and put out all the fires —
Barry squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head, with his smile aching. As he opens them again, he passes the reins back to Lup — but nudges her towards a cot, though, covered in pillows and rolled-up white towels — and the first thing Lup does is toss his glasses off, right onto one of those pillows, to just bury her whole face, their whole sopping face, into a towel as a replacement. She lets the world blur into that white, into that softness, that smell of clean fabric and of nothing else — and she leans against Taako, pressing her shoulder into his, as she soaks up her tears, and covers Barry’s ears, clamping her hands over them with the towel as a buffer. The cries of revelry outside are muffled, even more than just by the tent itself — and that ear-splitting ringing is fading, finally fading, as Barry’s heart rate settles…
She lets just one side of the towel tumble out of her hand, running her fingertips behind Barry’s ear, and down his scalp — and the next thing she knows, they’re landing in Taako’s hand, intertwining with his own fingers, tight enough for her to feel his pulse. And that feeling, it — it’s so strange, because isn’t alien or familiar — it’s just Taako, and he’s familiar, but her hands are borrowed from Barry. And those are still hands she’s borrowed before, borrowed to hold Taako before, even — yet the realization dawns on her that Barry’s hands have changed, growing subtle new wrinkles, and Taako’s hands have changed even more, gaining calluses and a sinewy feeling that are new —
“…Lup,” Taako breathes, like he still can’t believe it. And Barry shakes his head with Lup inside, laughing hoarsely —
“Lup, huh?” he echoes, just as incredulous. Buried inside his chest, where her soul mingles with his, he’s embracing her with the full, magical surrealism of lichdom behind it — blurring the lines between reality and metaphor. Where words fail both of them, as amorphous blobs of red thread tangle and smoosh together, with meanings even they can struggle to decipher — but where, for lack of a better comparison, Lup might as well be pressing her face into Barry’s own red robe, until all sensations that she should enjoy become too much, and she unravels — but where Barry might as well be taking every single bond that makes up her being, and metaphorically wrapping them all around his little finger, gently kissing every one until the relief, the victory, the unbelievable become too much for him, and he unravels, just for Lup to find herself doing the same to him, keeping him right where she wants him, like thread on a palm-sized spool. But of course, the sensation of hair on her scalp, blood on her clothes, simple fucking air moving through her lungs — they all reduces her back to a shuddering, mentally blubbering mess, and Barry becomes the one to collect her loose ends, again, until she finds it in herself to do the same for him once more, and the stability flows back and forth, back and forth, back and forth between them. Staying in one piece becomes an intimate dance, an exchange of who does the mental lifting — all of which, of course, their body decides to commemorate with one single, mundane hiccup.
“…Ffffff-fff-fucking insane,” Taako whispers, and Lup squeezes his hand. “That’s — that’s what this is —”
“I can’t — I — I just can’t believe you’re here, Lup,” Barry chokes out after him, as he sucks in a breath — and genuine, phantasmal sparks of flame dance in his throat, ‘cause that’s just how deeply Lup agrees, with hardly believing it. “I — I knew, I — I knew, Lup, as long as — long as Taako was still here, still — still here waitin’, then — then I knew you’d be back too, Lup — I knew you were still out there, bein’ — bein’ a survivor —”
Oh, gods. Is she? Lup’s sure doesn’t feel like it, as she covers Barry’s mouth with his hand, and — and hardly as she feels Taako’s nails in Barry’s other palm, digging in deep. She breathes in hard, as Taako slumps against Barry’s shoulder, and as he twists awkwardly, staring into Barry’s eyes — but just, just as a fundamental inexplicable truth of the universe, looking through Barry’s eyes and at Lup, as he opens his mouth, and asks her —
“Now what do you — what do you have to fucking say for yourself?”
It’s not an accusation. Maybe, from anyone but a Taako fighting back tears, it would be — but red threads wind through the air between them, clinging to Taako like cat fur clings to a black shirt — and in those bonds, Lup can feel what Taako can’t say, what he can’t make himself say. She can feel the prying, the begging — his plea, so desperately, of fuck, I know you’re not okay, Lup, not after everything, so — so tell me, just tell me how, so I don’t have to wonder —
The threads stretch tight with worry, and as Lup forces herself to avert her gaze from the tent flap, shielding her eyes from the thin, barely-even-there beams of sunlight through the cracks in the entrance — that worry is what breaks her. She buries her face in her hands, and every terrible thing she’s realized in the last one-hundred and eighty seconds — about herself, about her return, her oh-so-miraculous rebirth — it all spills from Barry’s sympathetic mouth, and it pours out.
“I — I — I don’t want to be here!” she sobs, and it stabs her in the heart just to admit it, but — but denying it, and pretending, would just be so, so much worse. “Taako, I — I waited so long for today, but — but — but now, now that it’s here and I have to feel it, I — I don’t want it anymore, I don’t want it to be today, I just want it to be months from now, years from now, when — when I’m normal again! When I — when — when I’ve learned — learned how to be a person again, and — and I feel so awful for wanting that, Taako! Because — because I, when I was in the Umbra Staff, I would — I would have given anything, done anything, for it to be today; I had to hold myself together by — by dreaming of it being today, counting everything I’d touch, I’d taste, I’d feel for the first time again, and — and I thought, how — how good that day was gonna be, how glad I’d be to be alive that day, but — but now that day’s here, Taako? It’s — it’s here, and — and I hate it?!” Her voice rises to a desperate pitch. “I — I’m so sick of it, I — I would even skip every second of it, if I could, and — and I hate myself for that, but — but — but I don’t — I don’t want to feel anything else for the first time again, when — when — when it just hurts like this. I — I don’t want to feel things again and — and endure it, I just — I just want to hold you boys and enjoy it, ‘cause — ‘cause I won’t be breaking down, ‘cause there wasn’t anything wrong yesterday, or the day before that, I wasn’t missing, and I’m — and I’m just with you two, I’m with you and it’s normal —”
She wraps her arms around her chest, Barry’s chest, and her head keels forward. She forces herself to still look, to look up to Taako’s face, as she waits for what he’s going to say to her —
“F-fuck, Lup —” Taako twitches, and his eyes — his gaze darts down to his hand, wrapped around Barry’s hand, which is also Lup’s hand, with red veins of fire running through it visibly. Taako trembles, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hand — let go, or hold tighter — and Lup, in spite every year she had alone to think about it, she just doesn’t know what she wants him to do, either. She used to think she knew. She was so wrong.
“Do you — do you — do you want out?” Taako manages, just as Lup lets out a sniffle. “‘Cause — ‘cause, I know it’s not the same without a body, but I — but, I guess I keep sayin’ this to people today, I — I’m not going fuckin’ anywhere —”
“I — I — I don’t know.” Lup squeezes her eyes shut. “It’s — it’s better in here, in — in the spa, but — but I — I’m still not used to —”
A deep breath runs through her lungs — but it’s Barry, not her, who’s taking it. He exhales, slowly, and points a mental spotlight at a tangle of bonds that connect them — and then, another snarl that leads from Lup to Taako. Without words, Barry blankets Lup in his own awe, of how strong those bonds still are — of how those bonds will still exist, whether they’re puppetting Barry’s body or not.
“…It’ll be okay, Lup. If — if you wanna step out. And… I’ll be okay too,” he whispers. Voice quavering in such a strange way — like it takes him bravery to say, and yet, he really, truly does believe it. “‘Cause — ‘cause, see, we’ll be here whenever you do wanna feel something, right? You can just take a break — hell, just five minutes, you can just pop out for five or four or three minutes if you want, and — and then, when you’re ready, you’ll can pop right back in with me, or — or gods know, with Taako next time, if he wants that too —”
“Eugh,” Taako chokes out, a pained noise that scares Lup, if only for a moment, because she somehow can’t quite pin down the trigger for it — but Taako shudders through it, and quickly, too, like it never happened at all. “Fuck, he’s right, though — you gotta increment that shit, go exposure therapy on it, or — or whatever. I don’t know. Splash in the shallow end first, like — like, remember, I didn’t make Barold learn to swim in the goddamn riptides —”
Barry snorts. He’s too tired to smile, even smile wryly, but — but Lup can feel it, from the inside. She can feel — feel a lot of swirling currents, riptides of exhaustion, hers and Barry’s alike, that she’s trying so hard to fight from inside, because — because — because she can’t leave again, she can’t leave again, she can’t become any less permanent, less tangible, less memorable and real in their lives again —
“It’s not the same kind of leaving, Lup,” Barry pleads — shocking and horrifying Lup with how desperate he sounds, is she really that bad? — and Taako even jolts, too, blurting out —
“Holy — shit, no, don’t — don’t punish yourself for —”
“If — if — if you’re in a riptide, you — you should tell us, Lup — we want you to tell us, please,” Barry begs, as a lump forms in his throat — in Lup’s throat, “you can always tell us, and — and — and we won’t leave you, never ever, we won’t let you feel alone, even — even after we pull you out —”
As if you two wouldn’t know I’m drowning before I do, Lup thinks darkly — projecting it through bonds, so she doesn’t have to find the strength to move Barry’s mouth — but Barry takes a breath, and — and he shakes his head.
“Not — not the irredeemable flaw of you as a person that you’re making it sound like, hon.” He’s still cradling her soul, as gently as he can — but on the border of corporeality, the edges of his vision are turning red, too red for Lup to see anything through. Sometimes, crimson sparks obscure even more than the edges. “Do you — do you wanna try just five minutes?”
Two thoughts in Lup’s head, this time. It sounds like not long enough. It sounds like way too much. Both projected out, but carried through different bonds. Maybe one goes to each of her boys, or — or maybe, they both get both — but the both of them answer, both inside her head, both in the exact same words, a unison that makes it sound almost like her conscience, or more like self-preservation, is talking —
Do you just wanna try, Lup? And just worry about how long once it’s happening?
…Maybe. I — I dunno, I — I’m sorry. Lup trembles, and tries to loosen her grip on Taako’s hand, on Barry’s soul. Load-bearing word being tries. Can she even make herself let go? Knowing, if she does, what the next question will be — if she lets go, can she make herself come back? Or, should she be afraid that she can’t stop herself from coming back, too soon, too painfully? Oh, gods, she’s — she’s so sorry —
“Hey.” Taako’s voice, at least, is still grounding. Even though there — there just might still be something wrong with it, some sense of strain that Lup just can’t be sure if she’s imagining, can’t be sure if she’s projecting. “It’s — it’s — listen, it’s gonna be soon, you hear me? You hear Taako sayin’ it? Soon, that you’re gonna — gonna be able to hug me, smother me, fucking — just fucking crush me, whatever you want, and — and it’s not gonna hurt you anymore, okay? It’s — it’s, like, you’re strong as fuck, and you want this, so it’s not gonna take you years, you’re gonna get better. Maybe — maybe it’ll be weeks, maybe even months, but — but you’re fucking stronger than — than I am, so — so you can do this. You know that, right?”
He’s — he’s breathing hard, voice wavering. And Lup can’t see, can’t see him at all through the red blur, but — but she knows, just knows, that he’s staring at her, wide-eyed pleading. Believing. Which — which is just — fuck. Fuck, shit, damn it, Lup can — Lup can — Lup can trust her brother.
“I — I —” She closes Barry’s eyes. “I know, Taako.”
Barry smiles. And Lup — all her tension, all her desperation to hang on, she pours into just a few threads, just a carefully selected handful of all her countless, clinging bonds. The ones that she’s chosen wind around Barry’s heart, around Taako’s heart, too — the ones to keep her anchored, the ones to prove to her she’s not alone, the ones with which she’ll keep not letting go. And, finally… with every other bond of her being, the ones that reach wherever Barry’s body reaches, the ones that feel whatever Barry feels… she holds on one more moment, takes one last, but not really last, just right-now-last breath in his body, and… then, she unfurls.
Pressure, texture, disappear first. She becomes a spectral robe, draped over shoulders, curling around bodies, as humidity on skin, fabric on skin, tears in eyes turn from feelings into memories, replaced with hyperawareness of bonds, of magic. It’s — it’s uncomfortably similar to dying, more than breaking possession used to feel, and — and that sends flames racing like a pounding heart, because gods know what happened the last time Lup died — but her boys hold onto her tight, anchoring their ends of the bonds — until no longer are Lup’s ears so full of crashing waves, her eyes so full of aching, dizzying color. Because, well — because Lup doesn’t have ears or eyes, anymore, only magic, but —
But it’s like a whole cloud of fog is parting around her. Magical senses, they — they — she can use them, and it’s not as grounding, not as satisfying, not as really here, really now, as sharing a body is — but they also don’t hurt, which means she — she can actually use them. There aren’t a million shocking, piercing, forgot-how-to-live-with-them sensations bombarding her at once — she’s not a breaker box about to explode anymore, she’s just… suddenly, jarringly, herself, however much and however real herself really is. Her self is a ghost, passing her fingers through her brother’s hair, and only feeling a tingle — and wishing, already wishing so desperately, that she could just feel more than a tingle. But — and yet, she’s a ghost who can reach out, and move at least a few hairs on her brother’s head — without the sheer sensation becoming too much, driving her to crumple and weep, or even ache with guilt. She — she’s — she’s getting the feeling, Barry and Taako were right, but didn’t even go far enough; it’s like she has to ease herself back into existence — and, fuck, you know, Taako and Barry; maybe they have to ease themselves back into Lup-existence, too —
She runs phantasmal fingers through Barry’s hair, too, through both their hair at once, determined to acclimate them to her and to being fucking adored — and Barry lets out the hoarsest, raspiest chuckle, coughing with a smile.
“…I swear. We — we didn’t coordinate on the mullets, Lup,” he mumbles — hand resting over his heart, right where Lup’s soul wriggled out of his body, but left a braid of glowing threads behind — and now, at this perfect tender moment, is where Lup expects Taako to snort. To say, that actually, he was inspired by Barry’s hairstyle trailblazing, how dare anyone assume otherwise — or, that no, of course they didn’t coordinate, are you insane, because anyone can tell he wears the mullet better, thank you very much —
But Taako doesn’t say anything. He opens his mouth, and then closes it again — and that silence burns through the last clouds of haze in Lup’s mind, like a jolt of lightning. Everything, everything oh-so-subtly wrong, suddenly stares at her in the face — starting with Taako’s ears, pressed tight to the sides of his head, as his lips form a flattened stoic line, and his eyelids twitch. Beads of sweat run down his forehead, soaking his brow, but he doesn’t make a single motion to wipe it, even though the brother Lup knows hates sweat, hates the smell, hates the feeling on his face —
And, worst of all, most terrifying of all, is something so faint, but unmistakable. Like a calling card, like one last taunt from beyond the grave, trailing from Taako’s nose — a thin, undeniable wisp of suffering-black smoke.
The fire inside of Lup does somersaults. A flaming vortex where her stomach should be. And — and as she lurches towards Taako, his eyes finally lock back onto her, and — she can tell. He knows she knows.
“About — about possessing Taako next time,” he chokes out, voice wry and getting wryer as Barry, too, jolts with dawning realization, “I maybe — maybe wouldn’t — wouldn’t recommend it —”
Oh. Oh, no. For a terrible, vivid moment, Lup is — is back in the Umbra Staff, and the Umbra Staff is in Wonderland, where all she can see is the smoke, the same horrible, taunting black smoke. And where — where all she can hear are her own screams, even louder than Taako’s screams, or — or the crushing sound of — of —
“The fucking washing machine!” Lup curses, truly curses, at whatever’s left of those fucking Wonderland liches — as Barry’s face turns as absolutely fucking bewildered as it is horrified, and he blurts out —
“The — the what?”
— but there isn’t time, let alone words, to explain, not as Lup dives towards her wilting brother, and throws her arms around him — throws her arms so desperately, phantasmally, and pitifully, weeping from whatever non-comfort, non-healing, must come from her passing straight through him. But — but oh gods, unless, unless, that — that way that her hands don’t land on his back, that way they don’t put pressure on his spine, it — it would have to be more gentle, less crushing, less painful than — than how just minutes ago, she’d — oh, gods. Oh, no. Oh, Taako, she — she didn’t mean —
“Did I — did — did we just hurt you worse when we hugged you, Taako?! Did we — did we just make it worse?!” Lup wails, becoming incandescent with pain as much as rage — at herself, at her brother who didn’t say anything, at the Wonderland liches she’d already sent straight to hell — and then, at her stupid brother again, as — as everything, all alleged sage advice, that he just told her echoes back through her head —
“Taako?! You — you lectured me, you were all —” She chokes out an impression of him, marred by tears — “You were all ‘dip your toes in the shallow end, don’t hurt yourself for a hug, you’ll be right back to crushing me and pulverizing my back bones before you know it — but you dipshit, you didn’t say anything, about — about you, when — when I was fucking crushing all your bones, ‘cause — ‘cause — ‘cause I just fucking forgot you got a washing machine dropped on you, and you fucking hurt! You didn’t — you didn’t fucking say that it hurt, you just — you just thought you should take it, like — like a fucking hypocrite —”
Lup shudders, her voice dying out — losing its sound to the flames that roar inside her head. And Taako, he — he grits his teeth, and closes his eyes — but his lips curl at the corners, to show his teeth, through a very strained, pained smile. Without motion of his arm, but between two fingers… he pinches a thread of Lup’s robe. Very, very tight.
“…I shoulda said so,” he admits, in a low whisper, “but… some sappy bullshit seemed — more important at the time —”
“T-Taako —” Lup melts, into a fiery mess that covers the cot — embracing her brother, however little she can, as ash trickles out of her eyes. She can’t be mad at him, and — and she isn’t, not — not without being a hypocrite too. There — there was just something more important at the time. “I — I know, Taako, I know —”
Taako blinks slowly, tears in the corners of his eyes, but — but he’s learned no new information, and he knows Lup knows it. There’s nothing left Lup can say, before she feels another set arms hurry through her — pressing a towel to Taako’s forehead, and grabbing every pillow they can reach.
“Where’s — where’s it hurt, Taako? If — if you lie down, with — with the right support, it could — it could take the strain off, it could take some of the strain off,” Barry blurts out, questions one after another in a voice that’s gravelly with worry — but, somehow, he’s still holding himself together, determined to be the learned and level-headed scholar of back pain that they need, in these trying, desperate times. And thank gods for that, thank gods for Barry, Lup thinks — thank gods for her creaky old husband, knowing exactly what to do. Thank gods for Taako’s best friend.
“The — the worst pain? Uh, the… lower part. With — with all the blood on it,” Taako mumbles, and Barry’s condor-circling of the cot doesn’t slow down, no matter how hard he winces to hear the answer — anxiously arranging pillows and rolled-up towels, according to gods-know-what mental calculations, and with both his own arms and a pair of Mage Hands. It’s his flesh-hands in particular, though, that have threads of Lup’s red robe wound around them — surely, to anchor himself, for one thing, but… maybe, to keep Lup involved, be a little benevolent voice in her head to tell her that she’s helping, for another. And — and anchoring is helping, but something still stokes Lup’s fires of guilt, all throughout her chest — because she doesn’t feel helpful, when she doesn’t feel strong enough, physical enough, to even move something like a pillow —
“Hey, would — would a heating pad help, bud? Or a — you know, a heat-alternating, a hot and cold kinda thing?” Barry asks, gently but suddenly — to which Taako gives an infinitesimal shrug, a mostly bond-telepathic impression, of something like sure, why the fuck not. Barry breathes a sigh of relief, nodding, and — then, he blinks, and he looks at Lup. And he smiles.
“You think — you think you could enchant that for him, hon?”
Shit. Lup mastered those enchantments as a literal toddler, and Barry knows this — but Lup is melting right now, nothing is in focus. She wants to help, she does, but if she just makes it worse again, then she — then she —
No. Stop, stop it right there. Lup, we can’t keep doing this. Barry and Taako are here, trusting her — and she can feel them, she can focus on them, keeping her bonds firmly anchored. Her hesitation hasn’t stopped Barry from smiling at her, with complete belief in his eyes, as he oh-so gingerly helps Taako wipe sweat off his brow, and —
Alright, fuck it. If Barry can be there for his brother, then Lup can be there for hers. Damn right she can, ‘cause hell, she invented being there for this specific brother, first.
In one fluid motion, she levitates up a pillow, transmutes the fluff inside to have a higher heat capacity — with an ease befitting the prodigy she is, who quit transmutation because it was too easy — and from there, she weaves evocation magic into the product, so it’ll cycle from hot to cold on a gradual, predictable rhythm. The magic flows from her fingertips, like — like a sigh of relief, a breath that she can almost feel in nonexistent lungs — and she sees Barry smile wider, taking the pillow back, and taking one deep breath with it pressed against his face, before he slides it beneath Taako’s spine, helping Taako lower himself down onto the cot. The pillow rests against Taako’s lower back, with more pillows and towels supporting his head, and elevating his feet — while the visible tension in his face, well, it doesn’t just change into all sunshine and rainbows, but… it does dwindle down from unbearable agony, towards more of an I can bear it, but like, come on. And… the wisp of black smoke from his nostrils doesn’t vanish, either, but… thank gods, thank goodness, it does get a little bit fainter.
Oh, this sudden feeling running through Lup’s robe — this abrupt focus of magic, strength of fabric — this is it, this is the way, isn’t it? This is how she does it, how she feels real without a body — a body that she yearns and aches for, but can’t yet bring herself to reclaim — but this is how she survives, clings to life, to reality without it. She needs to do this again, and again — have an unmistakable, unghostly, real effect on the word — and on people, on the right people. On her brother. She can prove to herself that she’s real — even if she has to do it again, and again, and again — because she has the formula, now; she has her brother.
“Are there — are there any healing potions in here? There’s — there’s gotta be, right?” she asks, voice still quaking, but pushing through with renewed strength — but Barry gets a strange, almost amused look in his eye —
“Nuh-uh,” Taako murmurs, beating Barry to the answer — but he blinks with definite amusement, as he adds: “But… the cucumber sandwich wedges, they’ve got… got healing properties…”
“What — what was the hit point conversion ratio, again? Like, the plain ones heal less than with the avocado, but the avocado’s still less than the tzatziki-style?” Barry asks him, shaking his head with a bewildered smile, to which Lup can obviously relate. “I — I read — I read the menu last time, but — it — it gave me more questions than answers, honestly —”
“Well — well, damn,” Lup blurts out, with surprise at how light the words feel, how easy it is for her to laugh, “then this — this spa’s perfect for you, Taako, ‘cause it’s — ‘cause it’s so goddamn weird —”
“Hmph. Hell of a good point,” Barry chuckles, as Taako’s eyebrows shoot up — and oh, there’s solace to be found in the fact that family ribbing, at least, can go back to normal straight away. Lup glances around, and spots sandwiches (naturally spawning? in their native environment?) on a table a few cots away — and without leaving Taako’s side, she extends her newly steady-feeling magic, and levitates a well-stocked plate over to them — only letting it wobble a little, not a single sandwich dropped, along its flight. She holds a wedge up to Taako’s mouth, for him to take a bite — choosing one of the tzatziki ones, ‘cause Taako likes his dill and garlic, but damn rightly thinks that avocado’s wasted when it’s not getting turned into homemade guac —
“…Th-thanks.” Taako bites, chews, and swallows the ostensibly healing sandwich, and — and Lup be damned, a cut on his lip really does close up, though a busted lip sure isn’t what Lup was worried about to begin with. She breaks off a fresh sandwich piece for him, oozing garlicked-up yoghurt — ‘cause that just feels like where the healing magic would be stored, if there’s any logic to be found here — but Taako shakes his head slightly, coughing, and instead rasps out:
“…N-no. Water?”
“I gotcha, bud.” Barry hands him a canteen, freshening and cooling it with a little Prestidigitation — and this time, Taako actually conjures his own Mage Hand, able to guide the vessel to his own lips. Even though — even though obviously, it still spills, splashing all over his face and onto the pillow behind him —
“F-fuck. Whatever. You know, that — that was refreshing, actually. Thanks.” Taako accepts the next piece of sandwich, murmuring as he chews — and as he closes his eyes, Lup can’t help but run her spectral fingers down his arm, down towards his own hand where she taps, taps, taps his palm. Just to let him — keep him knowing she’s still here, she’s still with him, and — and even when his eyes are closed, she promises, this time, she won’t leave him —
“Can I — can I hold your hand again too, Taako?” Barry asks, abrupt but sheepish, as he blushes on the other side of the cot. “I, uh — I just, I — I haven’t had a lotta hand-holding in my life lately, either, and —”
Taako breathes in sharply, indignant. “Yes! What? Obviously yes! Why do you — why do you hafta justify it, yeesh —”
Barry’s eyes fly open, his whole face flushing even more somehow — red like his robe, as he starts shaking his head, and his sheepish grin widens —
“Well, uh — maybe, I — maybe I’m a fucking dumbass, Taako, you ever think about that?” he blurts out — as he takes Taako’s hand, and squeezes it good — but Taako doesn’t dispute a thing.
“Now, what — okay. Now what did you think I would say, Barold, what was the worst I would tell you, like — like, did you think I’d gasp and be all ‘no way, Mister Red Robe, I don’t wanna catch your scary lich cooties’? Like, come on, that’s — that’s so Taako from — like, twenty-four hours ago —”
“Aw, fuck, that’s — wow. That was — that was it, actually, damn, that’s exactly what I was afraid of, thank gods I don’t even gotta think about it anymore, ‘cause I was — I was so scared that you’d say that, Taako, those exact words,” Barry deadpans, except in a weird way where his voice cracks for a second, a few separate and non-consecutive seconds, and almost undermines the whole joke — but he keeps it together, even as his smile melts into one that’s so much more sincere, the sight of which alone is enough to stab Lup in the heart. She watches Barry his thumb up and down the back of Taako’s hand, and whisper:
“But — but I — I’m glad I’ve got Taako on my side again, bud. I — I’m real fuckin’ glad that — that I’ve got you.”
“Mmm.” Taako blinks conspicuously wet eyes, voice wobbling. “Well. I’m glad I’ve got a couple undead horrors fussing over me. I knew the — the Taako care routine was missing something —”
Barry snorts, shaking his head, like can you believe this shit, Lup — which, no, of course not, she’s shaking her head too, ‘cause she sure can’t — but she watches Barry reach towards Taako’s pillow, hand hovering in midair for just a second, as he hesitates — but then, he runs his fingers beneath Taako’s ear, and through Taako’s hair. Prestidigitating out a splotch of blood, and fluffing out Taako’s loose curls — that good shit, that trick that Lup taught him so fucking well — but even with the blood gone, the curls fluffed, Barry’s fingers run the same course again, and again, down Taako’s scalp just because — and Taako’s ears relax, and he slowly closes his eyes —
And tears run down Barry’s face again, and — and Lup is going to be fucking sick, over how much her two perfect boys love each other, and — and how fucking tired, how broken, they must be, from — from all their years not just without Lup, but without each other either —
She lets out a messy, sputtering sob, as her lich form morphs and distorts, but doesn’t unravel — no, everything making up her being revolves around staying so tightly bound to Taako and Barry both, as she lets herself be defined by something amorphous, a desire just to blanket them in warmth. She takes Barry’s face in her hands, or — or something like hands that she can still form, and something that he still leans into without question —
“How — how — how long since you ate, babe?” she chokes out, because he can’t keep being the twins' hero on an empty stomach, and — and — and fuck, just look, what Lup wants to ask is something more like how long since someone made you food, babe, how long since someone did that for you, but — but Lup can’t step straight back into a kitchen, not now, not without a body that she’s comfortable in, and — and at least, she knows Barry will forgive her, for not being able to, and for only asking the half of that question that she can. Maybe, she can even forgive herself, but — but only if — if she swears to herself that soon, soon, she’ll drag them both with her into a kitchen again —
“I, uh. I sampled a couple a’ sandwiches, this — this morning, Lup, I — I promise,” Barry tells her, brushing against her, and breathing in harmless ghostly flames — and seems to close his eyes and savor it, just for a moment, before something about his demeanor turns purposeful. “Did… did you wanna try some, honey? The, uh — um, I was kinda, new to a body, too, but — but the plainest plain ones, just good ol’ bread and cukes, I thought they — I didn’t think they were too… too slimy, or — or texturally challenging…”
Oh, fuck. The thought of — not just food, but food for Lup barrels through her ghostly skull like a battering ram, a cranium shattered into all kinds of dueling thoughts — thoughts from yes, thank gods, fucking finally, all the way to fuck, I’m so scared I’ll just gag, and even I fucking dreamed of slow-cooked meat and mole poblano for so long, I don’t know if I can LET my first taste be an unseasoned vegetable. Lup flails, inside her mind and out of it, and latches onto her bonds, her anchors, so hard that she senses Taako and Barry, hands wrapped with red threads, squeeze each other tighter too — like a reflex, from some doctor testing The Lup Nerve with a mallet —
And — and here’s the thing, it doesn’t feel like they mind. But they — they both mentally reach back to her, concerned, and — Barry’s tears are falling to the ground, faster than Lup can evaporate them, and — and — gods, Lup feels like a puddle of tears right now; maybe she could possess that. Dip her toes into corporeality like that, if — if only — if only she didn’t need to be able feel, to get used to feeling, in order to ever learn anything, ever get anywhere —
Wait. Dipping her toes in the ocean. Maybe, she — maybe, she can’t make herself eat, not just yet, but —
But Lup’s not looking for Step One — or at least, she shouldn’t be. She’s looking for Step Zero. And — and if she has to start before square one, then she — she knows what she has to do.
“…Oh, babe. I — I’m still not ready for sandwiches,” she finally mourns out loud to Barry, running her hands down his face, “but I — I’m still gonna get back in there, okay, and — and I’m gonna make you drink water. ‘Cause — ‘cause I’ve been burning for so long, and — and you look like you’re losing all the water you’ve got, don’t you?” She chokes out a sad laugh, staring into Barry’s eyes, as his tears keep falling through her hands, and — and he looks up at her, and wearily smiles, raising his own hand up to wipe his eye, too —
“Sh-shit. Yeah,” he rasps, as an invitation extends from his soul to hers — a thread that’s so, so easy to follow, no matter how scared and unsteady Lup’s let herself become, working herself up before the moment even came to her. The thread is a roadmap into nerve endings, into eyes and ears and a mouth and a stomach again, and — just like that, Lup is physical, she’s sitting on the chair that Barry pulled up, and — and she’s — she’s holding Taako’s hand, she’s so grateful to be holding Taako’s hand, as she does what she could not do without either of her boys with her: which is to say, she lifts up Barry’s canteen, and — and she drinks.
Barry doesn’t let her plunge into the ice water, but — but just one gulp is enough to turn the world upside-down, or — or maybe back to right-side up, with the sensation of it filling and soothing her throat. Water dribbles down her lip, and — okay, it might become a problem sooner or later, in terms of sensation and too much thereof, but — but in the moment, before it can begin to grate on her, Taako is right. Spilled water is refreshing.
Fuck. Fuck! It’s been a decade since Lup just drank water. And Barry’s voice is right with her, right inside her head, in just as much disbelief — Lup, it’s been a goddamn decade since you… since you got to… — as Lup breathes in deep, and takes another sip. She’s careful, this time, so much more careful — ‘cause the first time, there was a second, just a split second of fearing it was headed for Barry’s lungs — but this sip, just like the first, is ten out of ten, three Fantasy Michelin stars. Truly, an insane thing to go ten years without — but, fuck, isn’t drinking water the best way to claw back from a ghostly existence, the best act to prove that she’s alive? That’s she’s in possession of a body, borrowed or not, that’s full of tiny little cells of aqueous goodness, performing a billion miracles a minute to let her touch and taste and replenish that water as much as she wants? Gods, Lup missed water. She missed it so much — and she can test herself on the ninety-five-percent-water vegetables later, because this is a moment just for her and the classic stuff —
She tousles Taako’s hair, breathing hard through a big, sniffly nose — and look at that, taking control of Barry’s body hasn’t done a thing to reduce his tear duct activity, huh —
You — you hanging on okay? Barry asks in her head, still leaving control of his body to her, but using a fuzzy Mage Hand to take a towel, and wipe her chin — and Lup embraces him mentally for that one, even though are you okay? is anything but an easy question for her to answer, and — and probably won’t get easy for a long, long time, either —
“I think —” Snot runs down her throat, and she has to hack to clear it. Just more proof of being alive that’s also gross and bad. “I think we — I think — I think the spa is better. St-starting in the spa is better. I — I should probably — only possess you in here, or — or in other quiet places —”
Barry moves just enough to nod. Taako hums in sympathetic understanding. And Lup… breathes in slowly, not even letting herself think any more about the loud, the bright, of outside — as instead, she swirls the water around in her canteen, just to feel the fluid dynamics playing out in her own hand. To hear the quiet sound of the water swishing — so oddly captivating, so oddly grounding, after so fucking long of just fire —
“…There’s a juice bar in here too, y’know,” Taako mumbles, with his closed eyes fluttering. “An’ I… I guess I could lend you my VIP pass…”
Damn, you’re telling Lup that water can have flavor? It gets better from here, for real? She could salivate, if — if only she still didn’t shrivel inside, after thinking of water with texture, with pulp and acid and enzymes. Surely, she — she thinks she’d be able to find something mild, something simple and smooth, but — but if she’s wrong, and she can’t handle it, then — then —
Maybe on the next run. Or… the one after that, Barry says, inside everyone’s heads, and… and Lup, one of us can always… try it for you first, tell you how — how intense —
Oh, yeah. For sure. Taako gives up on moving his mouth, but not on mentally replying, adding: Sommelier Taako can — can do all kinds of taste tests, just as soon as — as soon as he… as soon as he doesn’t feel like a wizard exploded all his fucking vertebrae…
Shit. Yes, yes, that’s what Lup wants, but also shit — her chest is seizing up, because it’s — it’s — it’s suddenly just so clear, it’s never going back to normal normal, is it? Taako’s hurt, she’s hurt, and Barry’s just barely looking held-together by comparison — and yet. Hold on, don’t let go, don’t spiral, Lup; you’ve done enough of that already. If yesterday, they were all hurt and alone, but they’re at least together now, then — then maybe, they — they can mean it when they say that they’ll get better, that they’re stubborn enough to find a way to make things better, and — and even if Lup can’t trust herself, when she tells herself that, she can trust Taako, and Barry, when they say it. For fuck’s sake, she can really fucking trust her jaded fucking brother and catastrophizer of a husband, if they of all people think that they can do this. And not just because — because they might’ve changed without her. She can still lean on them, just like they want her too, and — and she can resolve, after just a few more dips into a body, they’ll be right, and — and she will enjoy such a good glass of juice —
Right now, in the messy, aching present, her vision is blurring with a red glow, just creeping in at the edges. Bearably, but unignorably, her head is beginning to ache. But it’s not as bad as she let it get last time, at least not yet, so she reaches out for Barry’s support, and with unsteady legs, the two of them make their body stand —
“I… don’t think I can stay much longer,” Lup stammers. She feels no surprise from Barry, and she takes in a slow breath. “But — but let’s still pull up another cot?”
“For next time?” Barry asks, as Taako mumbles —
“For a sleepover?”
And Lup lets that slow, deep breath out.
“Yeah. And yeah.” With a nudge of her leg, she pushes Barry’s chair a few inches to the side, and rubs her eye. “And ‘cause I… I don’t wanna drop you on the floor, babe, but — but I — I think, if — if I’m gonna get anywhere, I — I think I gotta remember how to fucking collapse.”
“Ah.” Barry grins, and with their shared hand still resting on their cheek, Lup can feel his smile lines wrinkle. “I, uh — I appreciate that, hon. The not dropping me. ‘Cause, I mean — I think it would be satisfying, in the moment, but — but we — we’ve got enough back problems already, just, collectively —”
“Oh, I’d share mine, if it was — if it was a pain sharing thing. If I could make you two split it with me,” Taako declares, just in time for Barry to hiss, and bat a damp towel onto Taako’s face like a cat — and fuck, Lup really, really, really taught her man perfectly for every Taako Scenario, didn’t she — but in all her pride, she doesn’t give Barry a chance to do whatever he’d try next, because — because she just starts to laugh, bracing herself against Taako’s cot, and laugh-sobbing as the world spins, laugh-weeping with so much relief —
“But you — you sound like you’re feeling so much better, Taako —” she splutters, taking everything she has not to shake the bed, “oh, Taako, babe, do you — do you know how much I missed hearing you complain?!”
“Well, I —” Taako stammers, poorly suppressing a smile, “well, I — I’ll complain about you too, then! Just watch me! You — you — you asshole, you —” He punctuates his words with a deep breath, as his eyes flit around, no doubt hard-pressed to find a topic of complaint about his perfect, wonderful, incredible sister — until, all of a sudden, his gaze lands squarely on Lup’s own eyes.
“You — you — you know what you do?” he blurts out. “You keep making Barry look at me, with — with those glowing red eyes outta my nightmares, and — and you must think, you’ve gotta think you’re being all sad and cute, like — like a demon puppy who’s not gonna leave my side until I’m healed, and it’s gonna be so heartwarming that they’ll adapt a whole dog movie from it, make us millions in royalties —” He waves his Mage Hands in indignation. “But — but listen, you — you don’t look like a sad puppy, you look like — like a fucking horror movie monster —”
“Oop, that’s — that’s actually all me doing that, bud. Lup’s innocent, she would never,” Barry deadpans, and Lup can’t help but burst out laughing, as Taako’s face scrunches up with skepticism — but not for long, when at Lup’s behest, Barry’s old back proves it has one last trick in it, letting Lup lean down to press their shared forehead against Taako’s. Gently brushing him at first, then fully resting on him to make sure he feels it, as she nuzzles the side of his face — she lets herself loom over him like the glowing-red-eyed monster that she is, two mad scientists’ big scary Frankenstein of one body with double the souls, double the bonds, double the love — and under that pressure, staring into her big red eyes, Taako melts, ears quivering as he blinks tears away.
“Love you too, bud,” Lup whispers to him — and in the same breath where she finds the strength to lift herself up again, take the weight off Barry’s trembling arms, and stop testing his poor back altogether, she — she somehow finds the strength to retreat from his body, too, as he breathes in deep, and gently nudges her. She moves like a receding wave, focusing on Taako’s teary, precious face more than on any loss of sensation, and — phantasmally, curls up next to him on the cot, floating off the edge and just evilly, diabolically dooming the near side of his body to be so much warmer than the other. It’s a good thing he won’t even mind. She knows him better than to even question it.
Sure enough, Taako lets out a shaky, terribly relieved sigh — and, standing over them, Barry shakes his head with a muffled noise, like he thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. Well, then, he would think goddamn right. Just like he was right the last hundred times that Lup and Taako did the cutest thing he’d ever seen, up until today —
“…Okay. S-sleepover plan still standing, then?” Barry asks, almost breathless for a second at the start — as his Mage Hands run through Lup’s flaming hair, making precious little sparks of magic dance through her perception — and she nods, she nods and keeps nodding, a sound bubbling out of her like crackles from a campfire.
“Yes. Get — get over here, babe.” If she can’t possess Barry all the time, and — and she can’t possess Taako at all, not yet, then — then she’ll just squeeze herself between the two of them instead, making them curl up around her. Like they’re — you know, like they’re lying around a fireplace, innocently falling asleep. Like they’re too warm and cozy to be scared of the fire, unattended; of how much the fire loves them and kind of wants to devour them in one huge blaze, and absorb their souls so they can feel just how much the fire loves them, and agree that it’s so good how the fire will never have to be without them again. Metaphorically. All metaphorically, obviously — ‘cause Taako would complain if it was literal, even if Barry wouldn’t mind it one bit.
…Stop fantasizing about absorbing our souls. Dingus, Taako thinks to her, as if he doesn’t sound way too comfy and sleepy to guard his soul against anything, if you ask Lup — but for the moment, at least, he isn’t nodding just yet, and while moving very slowly, he crunches through another cucumber. Barry listens, letting out something between a laugh and a sigh — as he sends off his Mage Hands to do his cot-dragging bidding — and his breath makes Lup’s flames flutter. Even from outside his body, she can feel the adoration in it. And… of course… the exhaustion, too.
“I know — I know whatcha meant, Lup. About — about rememberin’ how to collapse,” Barry murmurs, with no trouble sounding like he means it, “‘cause, gods know — I didn’t — I didn’t let myself, I — I never let myself collapse, for — for pretty fucking long —”
“…But?” Lup asks, sensing it coming — and Barry picks a sandwich of his own off the platter, taking a slow, contemplative bite, and swallowing. Good, Lup thinks, because it’s about damn time — and, sure enough, Barry next words come out just a little less hoarse. Just a little steadier.
“But, I think — you know, once you get in there?” With such little movement, with such little energy, Barry still manages such a goofy smile. Someone should study him in a lab. “Once you — once you hit the field, get back in the game, and — and start… collapsing, again? Lup, I —”
She leans just a few millimeters closer, unable to help herself, and he. Barry runs a hand through his mullet, jostling his own glasses.
“I — I really think, Lup, it — it’ll be —” He hiccups, and then beams at her. “It’ll be just — just like you never forgot.”
He’s bracing himself against the bed, with an arm passing straight through Lup. She can sense his pulse within, just like she can hear Taako’s breathing — and the slow, consistent flicker of her flames has reached a tempo that synchs with both. It’s not the same as lying down in a body, it doesn’t come with all the sensations that can overwhelm, but — but as far as Step Zeroes go, it’s — it’s…
“…Well,” she murmurs — draping a flowy sleeve over Taako, and holding Barry tightly with her bonds, “…I suppose that we’ll find out. But… but… even if you’re wrong, babe —”
Barry threads several of her bonds around his fingers. Taako blows a puff of air from his nose, aiming right at Lup’s flames, in the way he knows comes the closest you can get to making a lich tickle — and somewhere inside of Lup, in some transparent, but fundamental structure — deep inside of her, something glows.
“Even if you’re wrong, babe,” she murmurs, “even if — if I don’t remember how, when I try, I…”
She pauses, and some reflex tells her, she should be closing her mouth, and taking a breath. With her mouth she doesn’t have, with lungs she doesn’t have. But — she will have them again. She will have them, soon.
Instead of breathing, she lets her flames blink. And she watches the pride form on her boys’ tired faces, as she starts again, and tells them:
“Even if I don’t remember. Even if I — I try something, in a body, and it’s just too much, I — I think one of you did somethin’ right, ‘cause — you know, I just realized — it feels kinda like you convinced me. I — I will still be a quick learner.”