Work Text:
When the metal door to Grace's dwelling opens, Eywa hears the vibrations through six different minds, catches the quick stutter of feet through another eight. She pulls herself into a curl of light, slithering towards the sound right before Grace's knees thud into her dirt.
There's a loud retching, before something warm and wet splatters against a mossy path of Eywa's skin. She extends feelers on instinct, catches the layers of finely spiced meat from the Omatikayan stew Mo'at had made for Grace last night.
Ah, Eywa muses. It's starting.
"You think?" Grace huffs, wiping her mouth. "I could've used the toilet, but I thought hey, it's Her fault I can't smoke for another year--or ever, really--she might as well reap the rewards, right?"
I suppose that is reasonable. Eywa lets the moss turn porous, rapidly soaking up the offering. Grace's meal may not have done her any good, but the nutrients can still be broken down and repurposed.
"Back on Earth, it's considered pretty extreme for couples to eat each other's vomit." Grace mutters, pushes herself to her feet. Eywa peers at her in infrared, watching her outline ripple, the pulse of power growing in her core.
And if you wanted the ordinary so much, you would have stayed there, Eywa points out wryly.
"Touché." Grace rubs her stomach gingerly. "Do your children know you're this much of a smartass?"
Only for you, ma Grace. Eywa caresses her ankles with gentle blades of grass. Only for you.