Work Text:
Maomao knew the feel of Suirei's hands even before they ever touched.
(The callouses on her palms and fingers are twins of her own.)
She smells of fresh herbs and tinctures. Of medicines and poisons.
Of home.
(They've made a game of guessing which ingredients the other last worked with based only on scent.)
Over (too rare) visits and (more frequent) letters, they speak of experiments and theories.
(New lab rats help further refine the resurrection drug.)
And whenever they see each other, they make new discoveries.
(Suirei's words may be rightfully bitter at times but her mouth tastes sweet.)