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Xilonen turned on the lights, looking around the room. Her breathing was shallow, her tail swaying back and forth. Her emotions were tangled like a knot in her heart. Her green eyes were strangely empty as she looked at her surroundings, and her sense of smell picked up the strong scent that still lingered.
She knew, she had been warned. It was no less devastating to be living through it.
She walked to the office desk in the Stadium of the Sacred Flame, her fingers touching the refined wood. So empty because its owner was always sacrificing a part of herself to keep Natlan safe, to end the wars.
Torturing herself, Xilonen sat in the simple chair, a piece of furniture that was part of that simple taste that she carried. The place still smelled of her. How long would it take for the smell to disperse from that totally empty room? Xilonen had the keys to that enormous house; she would end up, obsessively, going in to be surrounded by that smell for as long as she could.
She wanted to deceive herself. She wanted to think she was there to wait for her. She would be taken home, the two of them would make love, with all the foolish vows the other had to give. Xilonen wanted to think that nothing had changed at the end of the day.
But the weight in her chest was there, persistent.
What would she do when her illusion shattered, and she didn't return to her arms?
Xilonen should be celebrating the victory of a war that had lasted hundreds of years. Natlan would need her to be rebuilt, but finally her nation had a future that aspired to be beautiful and bright.
Beautiful and bright for anyone from Natlan, except her. Xilonen was trying, but she just couldn't feel that way.
She wished with all her might that the Traveler and Capitano had found a solution. But this was the most stubborn person she knew.
Xilonen wanted to lower her head, hide her face in her arms and cry compulsively. She wanted to cry out her grief, her pain. She wanted to cry for the years of war and crumble at the thought that she herself had only stayed on her feet because she had that woman by her side.
Her green eyes stared at the wall.
What would she do, when the only true warmth and light of Natlan, was destined to sacrifice herself for good?
Xilonen can't bring herself to think her name. Mavu… She had to bring her hand to her chest and massage it, feeling the pain shoot through her body.
Felids are not submissive, but when they form very strong bonds, attachment can make them suffer from inevitable stress. Xilonen knew that, in a few days, she would physically show how much her beloved's absence was affecting her. Her chest hurt. Maybe the symptoms would come sooner.
Xilonen didn't want to give in, didn't want to think the keyword.
She didn't want to think about grief.
She would rather fight than have a peaceful night with the absence of the woman who had driven her most crazy.
She tries to cry, to remove the knot in her chest. The tears don't come. Crying means giving in to grief, believing that she was doomed to lose the love of her life in such a tragic way.
Xilonen is a feline. It's almost as if she would rather die alongside her… wife.
They avoided labeling the relationship so seriously. They were girlfriends. For many years, they thought of each other intimately that way, but Xilonen knew better that the two of them had been living as wives for some time. They just needed to formalize it.
She wanted to scream because she would never have the chance to formalize the love they felt for each other. A chaotic love, but one that fit in their own way. Fights, escapes, laughter, fun. Every part of that relationship they built over the years, every second that mattered.
She restrained herself, closed herself off. Xilonen lowered her head between her arms, and still couldn't cry. Perhaps she was trying to suffocate herself while her consciousness and body lost the battle and slowly emptied itself into a deep sleep. Exhaustion overwhelmed her while she was surrounded by her scent.
Hours passed while she was lost in her sleep, dreaming of her beloved's bright smile. Xilonen had her entire face being kissed, then her jaw and neck. It would only be a matter of time before the cuddling had lustful effects, and she would have to guide her partner's hand inside her shorts, where she would be relieved.
Before it got spicy, Xilonen woke up. Her sad, empty green eyes were graced with darkness.
The room was completely dark, her eyes adapting comfortably to the darkness. She stirred a little, noticing that the soft blanket that smelled of her beloved was under her shoulders. The blanket fell. The light from the single lamp on the table was turned on, not by her.
Xilonen knew. The unmistakable scent, the comfortable warmth betrayed her companion before anything else. She got up from the chair and looked at who was behind her.
In the dim light of the office and the moonlight of the nightfall, Xilonen drank in the sight before her. She would think it was a hallucination, but she knew very well that her senses would never deceive her like that.
Her lips parted, trembling. She wanted to say something, but the sound of her voice didn't come out.
"You should have slept on the sofa. You might feel pain from that position." She spoke, softly, raising her hand and moving a strand of Xilonen's hair out of the way.
The smell, the sound of her voice, the brightness… the power she exuded. Xilonen wished she had never gotten up because her legs seemed to turn to jelly.
"Mavuika." The sound of her Pyro Archon's and lover's name was finally spoken aloud.
The scolding dissolved with Xilonen's trembling voice. Mavuika opened her arms and waited for her to want this physical contact.
Xilonen took a step forward. Mavuika understood that this was permission. Another step forward, Mavuika wrapped Xilonen in a tight and sweet hug.
"Mavuika."
She buried her face between Mavuika's breasts, suffocating her pain and the terror of the last few hours. Xilonen finally broke down. The relief couldn't cover her despair.
Wasn't it ironic how she had been wishing so strongly that someone else could pay the price of victory in the war instead of Mavuika? Or that she could resent that decision so much, when Xilonen herself shortened her days to forge the name for the Traveler and didn't regret it?
She was being selfish.
Xilonen was fine with her own decision to sacrifice part of her life for Natlan, but she ardently wanted Mavuika to be able to live and not give that up for anyone else.
"I am here." Mavuika stroked her blonde hair, her strong arms comforting her.
Xilonen felt ridiculous. Mavuika was about to face her end, but it was Xilonen who needed to be consoled because she decided it was a good time to cry in the Pyro Archon's arms.
No matter what she could rationally think. The more Mavuika spoke and tried to calm her crying, the more audible her sobs became, the more the black leather clothing was soaked by her tears. Xilonen's claws were torn between digging into the bare skin of the neckline of the outfit and grabbing the clothing in that inescapable embrace.
"Xilonen." Mavuika called again. She wanted to let the ocelot cry as much as she wanted, but minutes passed and the crying didn't stop. She was worried about the amount of stress.
The zipper of her outfit was pulled down. Mavuika froze at the act. The hand stroking her hair stopped moving. Xilonen pulled the zipper down to her belly, exposing her full breasts. She was surprised and confused by how sudden the act was because Xilonen was still crying. It was somewhat uncomfortable.
The confusion dissolved when Xilonen's fingers touched her bare skin. Not in a sexual way. Far from it.
Xilonen was hungry and needy for direct physical contact, for the warmth that Mavuika emanated. She wanted to feel her breathing, her heart pumping blood. The softness of warm, living skin. She buried her face in Mavuika's neck, deeply inhaling her scent and used her tongue to lick, feeling the taste stain her palate.
"Alive." Xilonen managed to murmur, incoherent between her tears.
Mavuika realized what was happening and let her body fall into the chair, bringing Xilonen to sit on her lap. She stopped worrying and let Xilonen do what she wanted. From the desperate crying, to the caresses devoid of ulterior motive on her body. Anything to relieve her stress.
Patiently, the Pyro Archon sat down and allowed the cry trapped in Xilonen's throat to be released. How long did it last? Fifty minutes? An hour and a half?
It wasn't healthy, but Xilonen was devastated even with her beloved in her arms. Slowly, gradually, her skin stopped being marked by Xilonen's tears and kisses, she stopped feeling the claws scratching and pulling her closer. The blonde's head lifted, and finally Mavuika could see the damp, tormented green eyes.
"It's almost as if you're grieving while I'm alive." Mavuika spoke, stroking her cheeks to wipe away the tears.
"I couldn't cry. I'm sorry." Xilonen was too vulnerable to say something acidic or reprimand Mavuika.
"I never wanted you to cry for me. If I had passed, I would want you to mourn me for a while” Mavuika was assuming a selfish feeling. “And then, move on. Live your life fully, without the horrors of war. My sacrifice was for Natlan, but also to ensure that you could see the dawn."
"I am an ocelot, Mavuika." Xilonen laughed, without any humor. "I would have gotten sick without you. You can't make a feline fall in love, and then expect her not to get sick from attachment."
Mavuika wanted to say that, as she understood it (and it wasn't much), only ocelots that are raised in captivity or for some reason can't survive in the wild get sick from longing for their caregiver. That wasn't Xilonen's case.
If she had said something similar, Xilonen would have said that falling in love was no different from the attachment an unevolved feline has with its caregiver.
It was a perception of love that people might find limiting, but for Xilonen, it was just instinct. She didn't feel trapped by being in love, it was just a little difficult that the person was the most complicated one in Natlan.
"Say the words." Mavuika held her face with both hands, ignoring her partial nudity and how Xilonen's hands slid across her skin and caused shivers.
"I hope your suicidal idealizations are over, that you live for your own desires. Don't just be a warrior trying to free your people from war, but feel it for yourself. You deserve to live." Xilonen was being honest and raw. So raw that it was embarrassing for Mavuika to see her like that.
"The words." Mavuika demanded again, locking Xilonen's face to keep her from kissing her, when she felt the blonde lean in and try to capture her lips.
"I love you." Xilonen's lips moved in a lost whisper, in a forbidden confession.
Mavuika pressed her lips to Xilonen's and devoured her mouth in a kiss as desperate as her crying. The redhead kissed her until both were out of breath and had to part, panting.
There is relief for Xilonen, and also for Mavuika. Mainly because she preferred the ocelot to be in a bad mood and running away from her rather than crying. It was frightening. She had never seen Xilonen cry in years of friendship and relationship.
"It's all over. There's no more war to be fought, and I am alive. I will be with you now."
And that was the best "I love you" that Xilonen could receive from Mavuika. She was ready to celebrate Natlan's historic victory.