Chapter Text
Sigrika couldn’t tell anyone, she didn’t dare to, but when she learned she’d been named as a candidate for successorship, one of the Solsworn, she wanted to run and hide forever.
She wasn’t…smart. She wasn’t anything. Anyone. She wasn’t a prodigy, a master of runes, born with the Exostrider’s innerworkings already etched into her mind. The speed of her mental calculations weren’t even better than her neighbor, Freja. She wasn’t gifted. She wasn’t talented. She struggled. Constantly.
She felt like a fraud. She was a fraud. And yet…
And yet, what could she do? The chains hung heavy, shackles already around her wrists before she even noticed they were there. The hopes of her tribe, gilded expectations, spilling, overflowing onto her fingers, demanding she not drop them.
So she didn’t.
She studied. She worked. She helped. She met the delighted comments of ‘Wow, amazing!’ and ‘How did you do that?’ and ‘Of course she can do that’ and ‘I bet she can do that’ with an easy smile, frayed at the edges. With bright eyes, subtly shadowed from nights of overwork. With strong shoulders, aching underneath.
She was Sigrika. The pride and hope of the Roya, a candidate for successorship to the Heliodic Six, gifted in much, struggling in nothing.
So, when Startorch Academy accepted her admission letter, and she stepped onto the grounds for the first time…
(She may have wanted to run away again. But she couldn’t. )
She marched on.
“I–um. Hello? Excuse me?”
What even was this? The girl looked like a hologram, but reacted to her every move, her every word. In her panic, Sigrika barely noticed the little nameplate sitting above the tabletop: I.R.I.S., AI Assistant.
“Hello.” I.R.I.S. eyes swirled with maelstroms of data, a constant stream of 1’s and 0’s. Sigrika aimlessly wondered if her calculation speeds were any faster than one of her friends’ back home. It would be a close race, surely. “How may I help you?”
“I need…I’m trying to find…I have a meeting. I can’t find the room. Can I have a map? Or could you tell me where she is? Is there a tour guide, anywhere?”
I.R.I.S. blinked, seemingly unsure which question to answer. “One query at a time, please. Which one would you like to prioritize?”
“Uh.” Sigrika bit her lip nervously. Wait. What was the professor’s name again? What room was it? Her thoughts swirled, a useless cacophony.
“Hello. Do you need—”
Sigrika startled. Turned.
Oh. Oh, wow.
The girl now standing in front of her, head tilted, lips upturned slightly, was stunning. Beautiful. Pretty. Every positive adjective Sigrika knew flew through her mind. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, gently framing her face. Her eyes, violet and blue dancing together and tilted downward in an almost playful manner, brought a flush to Sigrika’s cheeks. Her dress, finely stitched, colorfully dyed, (and well-fitted, Sigrika noted absentmindedly, blushing further) was gorgeous. She was gorgeous. And there was the cutest black teddy bear hanging on her hip, a jagged edge on its side that had been lovingly sewn back together.
The girl waited expectantly. Sigrika jumped, realizing she’d been staring too long. She quickly glanced at her student ID.
Department of Voidmatters Science. That was higher division work, she recalled. Not preparatory program classes.
“Oh, are you an upperclassman? Can you help me?” Sigrika placed a hand against her chest, forcing herself to breathe. Calmly. Slowly. Explain the situation. “I was supposed to meet with a…Professor Mornye? But I accidentally went to the dorms, and then I got lost in the cafeteria, and then I strode into an Exostrider Synchronist simulation area by accident—”
And…there she went. A Heliodic Six Successor was supposed to be well-spoken, not frazzled every two seconds. Nobody would take her seriously if she couldn’t convey her ideas in a proper manner.
The girl cut her off immediately. “Stop.” Her smile had disappeared, replaced by a look of annoyance. Sigrika snapped her jaw shut, ears burning. See? Someone had offered to help, and she—
Smoothly, the girl faced I.R.I.S., addressing her. “Can you pull up Professor Mornye’s current location?”
“Certainly.” Sigrika held her breath. I.R.I.S. lounged, stretching her arms out as she ‘thought.’ 1’s and 0’s circulated throughout her eyes again. “Professor Mornye’s last recorded location is classroom 2-B on the upper floors. According to her schedule, she has a meeting with a prospective research assistant, Sigrika, at 14:30.”
The girl arched her brow, saying something else, but Sigrika hadn’t been listening. The nearby clock read 14:27. She was going to be late. Professor Mornye was one of the head researchers when it came to engineering, when it came to the Exostrider, and everything combined and in between. Students fell over themselves trying to get into her classes. Students battled over the chance to work in her labs. Sigrika had a once-in-a lifetime opportunity to assist her, and she was going to be late.
Squandering opportunities. Failing to reach her potential. Dropping all those heavy expectations that she should be able to meet. Tears pricked at her eyes.
Something flicked her on the forehead. “Will you relax?” The girl said dryly. She still looked annoyed. And tired; there were faint shadows under her eyes. “Follow me.”
“Huh?” Sigrika tried to ask, but the girl was already striding out of the Archive. She hurried to catch up.
The walkways were bustling. Sigrika nearly tripped over someone’s robot. It beeped angrily, scuttling after their owner. She shoulder-checked a passing professor, apologizing profusely, except her turned back caused her to bump into a TARD-E, who buzzed angry, scrambled noises at her.
Somehow, the girl was still ahead, cutting through the crowds like a predator through a school of fish. “Stop worrying,” she called, back turned as she summoned the elevator. “I can hear your furrowed brow from here.”
“But—”
“Professor Mornye is a stern grader, but she’s not an unreasonable person.” The elevator landed softly, and they walked inside. The girl waved a hand against the holographic level selector, almost dismissively, like it had personally offended her. Sigrika felt her stomach swoop as the elevator began rising. “Besides,” the girl continued, rolling her eyes, “I doubt she even realizes what time it is. She’s probably working on some project on her laptop and forgot she even has a meeting with you.”
She sounded so carefree. Unbothered. Sigrika wished she had her confidence. “That’s not exactly a relaxing thought, Senior.”
The girl twitched at the honorific, then scowled. Curiously, Sigrika got the sense there wasn’t that much hostility in it. “I’m barely your upperclassman. And I don’t know what else to tell you.”
The elevator stopped, doors sliding open. The girl sped forward again, dodging the crowds with ease. Meanwhile, Sigrika nearly crashed into a…trashcan robot? The Academy had some curious inventions. She found the girl stopped in front of a set of glass double doors, peering inside. She followed suit.
Behind the green-tinted glass, a professor with strikingly white hair was leaned over against a desk, eyes never straying from the papers in front of her. Sigrika jumped when the girl knocked on the door, the reverberations echoing. The professor didn’t react.
“See? You’ll be fine.” The girl nodded at the clock inside, and as Sigrika turned her eyes towards it, it immediately changed, reading: 14:30.
Her stress left her in one fell swoop, and now she felt rather wobbly. Sigrika bent over, resting her hands on her knees, sighing in relief. Get it together. You’re not done yet.
Right. She pumped her arms. Focus! The girl was half-turned on her heel, ready to step away. Sigrika grabbed her hands, pressing them towards her chest. “Thank you, Senior! I appreciate your help; you went out of your way even though you didn’t want to.”
Something in the girl’s eyes flickered. Surprise. Like she hadn’t expected Sigrika to notice. Like she hadn’t expected to be thanked at all. “I—”
As much as Sigrika wanted to thank her more properly, maybe treat her to something, her schedule was full. The doors opened, and she quickly headed inside. Wait. The doors shuddered, halting, nearly closing on her hair as she spun around, still in the middle of the doorway. “I never got your name!”
“…nia.” The girl said, voice quiet. Almost uninterested.
“Nia?” What a pretty name. Sigrika beamed, waving. “Thank you so much for your help, Nia!”
Nia opened her mouth again, but the doors slid shut. Professor Mornye looked up, then at the clock, then at Sigrika, then stood up, hastily fixing her bangs.
Focus. You got this.
As Sigrika made her case, a long-practiced speech as to why she should be chosen for the position, her mind briefly wandered.
She was sweet. I hope I see her again.
—
“Structure determines function,” Professor Mornye was saying. In Sigrika’s periphery, the slumped body near the left window continued to rise and fall, breathing evenly. Mornye’s gaze swept over it briefly, the slightest flicker of uncertainty and hesitation, but she continued regardless. Despite her focus, Sigrika cracked a smile. Nobody dared to fall asleep in Professor Mornye’s class, except Nia apparently. “It is crucial to keep this in mind as we study the physiology of Exoswarm. Should any parts of them be unknown or forgotten to you, a reasonable hypothesis can be made just from ocular examination.”
The intercom buzzed, the subtle noise of an electronic bell that signaled the mid-break of lecture. Mornye cleared her throat as students shuffled about. “We shall reconvene in fifteen minutes,” she said softly. “In the interim, remember the group project due at the end of next week. You may use this time to pick your partners.”
It was as if a veil had been lifted. The vibe of the classroom switched from silent stagnation to a hearty roar. Friends were immediately heading towards one another, shy students awkwardly asking those seated next to them to team up. As for Sigrika, she stood and immediately started towards the flash of pink in the back corner.
Now awake, as if her body only wished to sleep during crucial moments, Nia had her hand propping up her chin, staring out the window. She enjoyed the light of the Reactor Drive, Sigrika had noticed. The past few classes, she always sat where the light was strongest. No doubt it felt heavenly when she napped.
As a Solsworn, Sigrika had quickly climbed her way up the academic ladder, taking classes most wouldn’t be able to step foot in until their second or third year. It was exhausting. It was fun. (It was mostly exhausting.) But oftentimes it was worth it, like now, when Nia was sharing a class with her.
It had been a couple weeks since they first met. Sigrika hadn’t gotten a single chance to talk to her in any more depth. She was busy, always running around, always working in some way or another, and Nia was…nowhere to be seen. Or sleeping. Presumably both. Regardless, Sigrika wanted to get to know her upperclassman better. She couldn’t glean much from Nia in class, for several obvious reasons.
And if her pretty appearance was more of an incentive, well. That was Sigrika’s little secret.
“Nia?”
Nia flicked her eyes over. Frowned. There was an odd undercurrent of resignation in her eyes, like she was unsurprised to see Sigrika, but for some reason didn’t want to. “It’s Denia.”
Sigrika’s invitation died on her tongue, and her words tripped as she righted herself. “Do—Denia? What?”
“My name is Denia.”
“Oh. My apologies. I suppose I must’ve misheard you.” Sigrika played with one of her braids, smiling nervously. “I hope I didn’t offend.”
Denia rolled her eyes. Sigrika easily read the message in it: I don’t care.
“Anyway, do you want to group up with me?”
Denia made a show of looking around the classroom, at all the students chatting, at all the groups both formed and unformed. “Why me?” She stretched, eyelashes fluttering briefly as her body vibrated in pleasure. “Are you trying to sabotage yourself? You want to work with the laziest student in the class?”
Sigrika tilted her head, confused. She’d observed enough the past few days. Denia was far from lazy. Just because a student napped in class didn’t mean they weren’t paying attention in their own way, somewhere else. She’d caught a peek at Denia’s scores, once. Perfect. Hardly any errors. And she knew Denia was involved in practically everything on campus.
No. Denia worked hard. Sigrika believed that. But nobody saw it, blindly choosing to think what they wanted to think.
A kindred spirit. Sigrika’s heart should have felt lightened by the fact. Instead, it ached.
“No. I just want to group up with you,” Sigrika said softly.
“Not interested.” Denia turned away.
“Aw, come on.” Sigrika followed, attempting to place herself back in Denia’s field of view. Denia merely looked elsewhere. Sigrika began shuffling back and forth along the desk, amused as Denia’s head shifted from side to side. “I’m not changing my mind.”
“Then answer my question,” Denia drawled, now looking up at the ceiling. Sigrika stood on her tippy toes, ensuring her face was in full view. In response, Denia closed her eyes. Sigrika pouted. Cheater.
“You’re…” Sigrika hesitated. “You have a calming presence about you. Gentle. I like it.”
Denia’s eyes flew open in disbelief. She tilted her head back down, regarding Sigrika as if she’d grown a third and fourth eye. “Are you dumb?”
Nobody in her entire life had ever said such a thing. Strangely, Sigrika preened. She placed her hands on her hips and merely smiled. “I just want to know more about you. Is that so bad?”
“So you’re dumb,” Denia decided. Her mouth twitched upward when Sigrika pouted again. Unconsciously, she made a mental note of that reaction. “Fine. Whatever. Not like I have a choice in the matter,” she tacked on, quietly enough Sigrika didn’t think it was meant to be audible.
“So that’s a yes?” Sigrika felt her hair tickle her ears as they perked up.
“Obviously.” Denia sighed, resting her head on her arms. She looked up through her eyelashes, and Sigrika’s heart stuttered. “You’ll regret this, you know.”
Unfortunately, due to her insane schedule, Sigrika wasn’t able to spend time with her until the next day. As the Reactor Drive gleamed silver, day turning into night, Sigrika was unable to tamp down her excitement as she hopped onto her motorbike. Her idea for the project required them to visit the Etching Plains, and she met Denia among the grasses, who was in the middle of seriously considering the optimal way of laying down on a motorbike.
Sigrika motioned for Denia to follow her, and they began walking their bikes to a more ideal location. Sigrika wished to fill the silence with more than the mechanical sounds and cool breeze around them.
“Do you like riddles? I like riddles,” Sigrika said, before Denia even had the chance to answer. Though from her expression, Denia had zero to no interest in the line of conversation. “They’re fun. Puzzles that work the mind feel so rewarding when you solve them.” Her bike bumped over a protruding rock and threatened to tilt. Sigrika merely adjusted her arms, righting it. “Perhaps it’s a little silly, since they’re essentially homework in a packaged, bite-sized form, but I find them enjoyable.”
Denia made a point of looking for an invisible audience.
“Speaking of bite-sized,” Sigrika continued, now fired up, “What is with the Academy’s food? Do you guys actually like that stuff?! It’s disgusting, you know!”
Denia met Sigrika’s aghast gaze and said nothing.
“I know it’s ‘nutrient-rich,’ but the taste leaves much to be desired. I read a research paper once. It talked about how the more your body likes the taste of something, the more nutrients it actually absorbs, relative to something you dislike. Isn’t that interesting? I should bring that up to Professor Mornye.”
Denia lightly pulled back on her motorbike’s handle, revving the engine but a fraction.
“Almost there, Nia,” Sigrika said absentmindedly, only realizing after the fact she’d effortlessly understood what Denia had been trying to communicate.
Denia, for her part, raised her eyebrows slightly. Then spoke for the first time in several minutes: “It’s Denia.”
“Nia can be your nickname,” Sigrika offered.
“Why would I need a nickname?”
“Everything needs a name. Even runes. Even stars—did you know?! My mother first taught me about Lahai-Roi’s stars,” Sigrika continued to babble. Although Denia had spent this entire time not engaging with her whatsoever, Sigrika had the oddest feeling she was actually listening. “How they sparkle individually, but if you go point to point, they form an image. A constellation. The first riddles I ever solved lay entirely up there.” She pointed up.
“They’re not real, you know,” said Denia.
“They weren’t,” Sigrika acknowledged.
“Do fake things deserve a name?” The undercurrent of…something…brushed against Denia’s words. Like a darkened river underneath a bridge, the skeleton underneath. Sigrika couldn’t pinpoint it.
“They may not have existed before, but they exist now. A man-made creation, now host to thousands of meanings. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“It’ll be wonderful when we’re done here. I’m freezing.”
“Are you?” Sigrika slowed, activating her bike’s kickstand. Denia kept on moving, until Sigrika gently grabbed her shoulder, an indication to stop.
Denia stared down at her hand.
“Sorry,” Sigrika said, pulling away immediately. “Just…hold on.”
Her hands moved carefully, fingers tracing golden lines in the air. One of the first runes she’d ever learned. It meant warmth. Comfort. Safety. Under her guidance, it formed, a flat symbol enveloping the air, slowly shaping into something more substantial. Sigrika pushed it forward, and it scattered lightly as it hit Denia’s chest.
It was subtle, but Sigrika saw it. The flicker of genuine wonder in Denia’s face, and something else: wariness. The distrustful gaze of someone who was used to one thing, receiving another. It vanished as quickly as it’d come, shorter than a shadow’s flicker.
“How is that? Do you feel any warmer?”
Denia’s chest rose slightly as she breathed in suddenly, deeply, as if shaking herself out of a trance. “Fine.”
Sigrika suspected that was a yes in Denia speak. She smiled. “I’m glad.”
Denia grunted as she began pushing her bike again, flattening the grass under her wheels. “I’m going to freeze again if we keep standing around, though. Are we close enough or what?”
“Almost.”
“You said that last time.”
“Just a bit further, Nia.”
“Denia,” she corrected.
At last, they stopped, leaving their bikes behind as they took a few steps forward, heads angled up. They beheld one of the great ridges of Lahai-Roi, a steep curve, lines and circles interconnecting in an ancient grid, worn yet not faded by time. Under the golden light of the Reactor Drive, these etchings were little more than a common backdrop on gray stone. Now, illuminated by silver, they were pulsing colors of the sunset, golden and purple, rivalling the beauty of the starry skies above.
Sigrika began unloading her equipment, setting up tripods here and there. Denia picked up one of the borrowed cameras. She held it awkwardly, and her fingers brushed up against the front, likely smudging the lens. Sigrika’s ears twitched.
“Nia, please cradle that more carefully.” Sigrika leaned down to adjust the wide-angle lens.
“I said it’s Denia.” But she moved her grip.
Sigrika moved about, ensuring the best angles to get the ridgeline in full view. Denia snapped her camera casually, but it must’ve not come out well, because she scowled down at the screen. “You sure picked an easy project,” Denia muttered, adjusting the lens. “Deciphering a Royan calendar?”
“It’s not easy.”
“You’re a Roya.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s easy.” Sigrika’s voice clipped before she could stop herself, and she took a long, careful breath. She tightened the legs on the tripod and fitted the camera atop, adjusting the settings. She aimed in silence, and pressed the shutter several times. When she was finished reviewing the images, half-satisfied, she felt Denia staring at her, and glanced over.
“Fine. I’ll pull my weight.” It wasn’t an apology. It didn’t even carry the tone of one. Yet Sigrika heard it as such, and she lightened, her shoulders dropping. They took some more photos, some close up, some further away, some capturing the entire section of the ridgeline, some zoomed in on specific parts.
“These look good,” Sigrika observed as they stood near each other, scrolling through the photos in the reel. “I think.”
“You think.” Denia was leaning slightly away from her. Sigrika made a note. “Very comforting.”
“It’s good enough for today. We can work on tracing the lines tomorrow. It’s getting late.” Sigrika began heading back to their bikes.
“Oh, now you realize?” Denia leaned back against her bike and watched as Sigrika painstakingly put all of her equipment away. A sudden paper-line of puppets appeared between her hands, and she began stretching and squashing them like she was playing an accordion. “I could be comfortable sleeping right now instead of shivering in the middle of nowhere.”
So she said, but Sigrika found herself doubting it. In fact, Denia seemed more awake at the moment, as if her usual routine was being active in the dark, and sleeping in the daytime. It would certainly make sense.
Though her original intention had been to understand Denia more, she felt like she had even more questions about her than when the day started. She refused to leave empty-handed. She shut the storage of her bike and turned, pursing her lips, running her eyes up and down Denia’s form. Denia stared at her, arching a brow, and Sigrika blushed lightly, but refused to be deterred.
Sigrika nodded down at the item hanging on her hip. “What’s your bear’s name?”
Denia’s eyebrow rose higher. “What does that have to do with anything? Who cares.”
“I do.”
The string of puppets disappeared with a wave of Denia’s hand. Sigrika suddenly had the urge to ask about her Resonance ability, but Denia answered, “Trickster.”
“Aw! That’s really cute.”
The look Denia gave her made Sigrika feel like she was going to disappear next. “It’s not.”
Sigrika wondered if Denia ever slept with Trickster. It was clearly worn, but that just meant it was well-loved. Soft. Like its owner, maybe, Sigrika thought with the briefest flash of amusement. Rough on the outside, but on the inside—
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it this instant.”
“I wasn’t thinking of anything,” Sigrika said innocently. Denia swung onto her bike, and Sigrika thought she might get run over, so she added hastily, “You and I, we both have one!” Sigrika patted the sheep pouch slung around her waist. “We’re matching.”
Denia’s bike revved. “Uh-huh.”
“My father gave me this one. He collects trinkets from time to time in the Frostlands, so I can put them in here.”
“That’s so fascinating, because I didn’t ask.” For a moment, Sigrika thought Denia would simply drive off without her. But after several seconds of silence, Denia pointedly raised her eyebrows, performing a wide, sweeping gesture. “Are you getting on your bike, or what? Hurry up. It’s dangerous out here.”
A smile found its way onto Sigrika’s lips. “I was right.”
“What now?”
“You are sweet.”
Denia slammed on the gas, blades of grass ripping up and flying through the air. She sped off towards the Academy. Sigrika merely grinned wider, following. After all, Nia was kind enough to keep a manageable distance: not too far, not too close, just enough to keep her in her mirrors.
—
Somehow, not that Sigrika was at all complaining, they became fast friends over the continuing weeks. At least Sigrika thought so. Denia remained as aloof as ever, though there was the occasional crack in her facades, the slightest peek of light through a stained glass window otherwise covered by a black curtain. Nia reminded her of a cat sometimes, but Sigrika was smart enough not to say that out loud. Her cheeks stung at the mere idea.
Sigrika had reached something of an understanding with Denia’s boundaries around physical contact. Pulling her around by the elbow was fine. Hugging her was not. Getting close to her was fine—for a while. Any longer than a couple minutes, though, and Denia would, perhaps unknowingly, become apprehensive, edging her body away. Sometimes Nia herself initiated, though it was mostly as reprimands, and always in the form of painful (read: not even) jabs to the forehead or cheeks. Sigrika did not mind these in the slightest, and inwardly cheered whenever they occurred. Outwardly, she pouted, which always, always prompted a smile.
She was a little obsessed, perhaps, with making Nia smile. Ah, well.
Back to the present. Sigrika was pleading up a storm, trying and failing to coax Denia off the couch. She’d stumbled upon Nia lounging in one of the study rooms, soaking up the light of the Reactor Drive.
“I’m not doing it.”
“Nia! Come on!”
“No, Siggy. Don’t care.”
Sigrika automatically smiled at the usage of her nickname. She’d all but squealed when Denia had come up with it accidentally, and even danced around in her room privately after the fact, buzzing with joy. In the following days, Denia had tried to avoid using it, but after slipping up several times, she’d clearly given up.
“But we have a day off!” Sigrika whined. “It’s the perfect weather for a picnic! We should all go together! You, me, and Nivora!”
“Nope.”
“What about a swim day? We could play near the Argentflare Drapes.”
“What are we, dehydrated Glommoths? No.”
“What about—”
“Drop it, Siggy.”
Sigrika pouted, but relented. She let go of Denia’s arm, which promptly returned to crossing over its owner’s waist as Denia settled back against the cushions. She brought a hand up to her chin, pondering. Knick-knacks and potted plants from past students and professors adorned the windowsill. Outside, the Academy’s grounds were subdued. Still busy, but at a far less density.
A flower was practically bent over, reaching desperately to be engulfed in the light. Sigrika cocked her head.
“A walk around the gardens,” she suggested, and Denia glared, ready to retort. “Just the two of us.”
Denia paused, her lips still parted, a scathing remark thrown back into storage and replaced with something less jagged. “Just the two of us,” she repeated.
“If I’m being too pushy, you can decline,” Sigrika said gently. “I just want to hang out with you. It’s a beautiful day.”
Denia heaved a rather dramatic sigh before propping herself up into a sitting position. Her hair cascaded down her back, her eyes flicking up to meet Sigrika’s, half-lidded in annoyance. Pretty. Sigrika almost didn’t hear her speak. “Fine. I’ll indulge you.”
Now roaming through the Academy’s spacious gardens, Sigrika skipped backwards happily, watching Denia frown at her. She liked this section of campus. The giant sprinklers, the rippling pools, the benches, the fountains, and, of course, the endless swath of flowers in every size, shape, and color. Denia claimed she hated the gardens because everything made her sneeze. But Sigrika had caught her caressing the petals of a flower before, enraptured, watching it dip under the faintest weight.
“Do you have a favorite flower, Nia?”
“No.” Denia’s eyes were watching something beyond Sigrika’s head, past her field of view.
Sigrika stumbled over an uneven section of the pavement. She righted herself immediately, failing to notice Denia tense, her arm jerking forward a fraction. “Mine is…well, I don’t actually know. I like the sunflowers in Bjartr Woods.”
“Can you slow down?” Denia demanded. “You’re walking too fast for me to keep up.”
Denia was keeping up just fine, Sigrika noticed, but she did so anyway. She stopped skipping, instead striding backwards at a more glacial pace. “Do you have a favorite color of flower?”
“No.”
Sigrika faintly heard a raucous conversation in the distance, no doubt a group of students having fun. Denia’s eyes narrowed.
“Purple’s pretty. As is blue.” Sigrika found herself pointedly staring into Denia’s eyes, and she reached up to shyly rub at her ear, feeling it warm underneath her fingertips. “I like yellow too, I guess.”
The voices grew louder. Someone laughed uproariously. Denia’s stride lengthened. Sigrika glanced behind her, too late, as someone zoomed around the edge of a bush, crashing right into her. They careened into opposite directions, the student sprawling back against the bush. As for Sigrika, she probably would’ve twisted her ankle and fell sideways into the shallow pool on her right…
Had not a familiar blur of pink, black, and white caught her, smooth leather wrapping around her upper arms. Sigrika grunted as her forehead smacked the edge of Denia’s shoulder. Curled hair tickled her face, strands gliding against the bridge of her nose. It was fragrant, a subtle, comforting scent. Soap?
“Watch where you’re going,” Denia snapped, right next to Sigrika’s ear. It was loud, and Sigrika winced, her ear angling away in response. Denia released her hold immediately and stepped aside.
Is the student okay? Sigrika quickly spun around, worried, but he was already back on his feet, rubbing his head sheepishly, and sprinting away after bowing in apology. Refacing Denia, Sigrika lowered her eyes.
“Sorry.”
“What?”
“For not looking where I was going.”
Denia poked her nose. Sigrika scrunched her face, stepping back to avoid any more attacks. A simple gesture, yet her heart warmed. “I wasn’t talking to you, I was addressing the moron and his group of lackeys. Not everything is your fault, Siggy.”
That felt like a weighted comment. Sigrika brushed it aside. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” Denia asked incredulously. “Worry about yourself for once. Literally nothing happened to me.”
“I ran into you, too.”
“I caught you,” Denia corrected harshly. Her jaw snapped shut, like she hadn’t meant to call attention to her actions. She straightened, an odd, stilted adjustment, like a puppet at rest being yanked up by its strings. “Forget it. Nevermind.”
“I will not,” Sigrika said firmly. Cautiously, she tested the waters: she grabbed a hold of Denia’s hand, squeezing it lightly. Denia’s fingers twitched, as did her eyes, but she didn’t pull away. Emboldened, she clasped Nia’s hand in both of her own, another affectionate squeeze. “Thank you, Nia,” she said earnestly.
“Alright, enough,” Denia insisted, finally yanking her hand away. Though it had been done with far less bite than Sigrika expected. “Aren’t we here to look at flowers or whatever? We’re wasting our time.”
Our time. Sigrika smiled. “You’re right. Let’s go, then.” They continued, now walking side-by-side.
—
Sigrika liked to consider herself a mild-mannered individual. There wasn’t much point of complaining, in her eyes. If she could fix it, she would, and if she couldn’t, she’d find a way anyway. If people were upset with her, she’d respond with softness. If people were upset with her, it was surely her fault, so it was up to her to fix it.
Nia had violently rejected this line of thinking the first time Sigrika explained it to her. “You’re dumb, Siggy,” Nia had said, a common ‘insult’ now. “If it’s too hard, just run away. Leave it be. Who cares?”
“I do,” Sigrika had said.
“And that’s why you’re dumb. You’re putting too much pressure on yourself.”
Sigrika disagreed. She was putting just the right pressure on herself. Steel had to be hammered to be tempered, quenched in flaming oil to harden properly. Solsworn were not formed by the ease of living. Solsworn did not turn a blind eye to those who needed help, whether they deserved it or not.
“Who’s supposed to help you?” Denia had argued.
Sigrika only blinked in confusion. “Solsworn should not need help.”
“I’m pretty sure those six idio—the Heliodic Six,” Denia corrected swiftly, apparently not wishing to offend Sigrika by insulting the highest of her people, “help each other.”
“Exactly why I shouldn’t accept assistance. I am not one of them.”
Denia had thrown up her hands and stomped away.
Not that Sigrika necessarily welcomed it, but she appreciated Nia’s obvious displeasure. It meant they could be honest with each other, a key ingredient in maintaining ideal friendships. But it was also dangerous if overused, a slippery slope to slide down. Once spoken, words could not be easily taken back.
Unfortunately, it was far too late for that.
“They’re not like you, Denia! They don’t sleep all day, doing nothing, being rude to people! They deserve to be here!”
Sigrika groaned, burying her head in her arms. The papers on her desk fluttered. She heard the distinct sound of a pencil rolling off the edge and onto the floor. Why did she say that? She’d been frustrated, tired, but that wasn’t an excuse.
She knew Denia had been trying to help. In her own way. Nia had been worried, and probably had a point about the limits of Sigrika’s work ethic, but…she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. She was so used to driving herself to the burning point, so used to doing her best until it became less than, that she couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
And now…she’d hurt her best friend because of it.
That day, she tried searching for Nia to apologize. It was as if she’d up and vanished. The next day was no different. Nothing. No flash of pink hair, no sleeping form, no dry comments, no words of admonishment. Even the Reactor Drive agreed with her mood; its light felt duller than usual.
She tried texting her, too. Except while Denia had a registered contact and phone number in Startorch’s logs, she’d never seen Nia so much as whip out her phone, nor answer any texts. When asked, a crease had formed between Nia’s eyebrows. Then, her face falling curiously slack, she’d said she wasn’t on her phone all that much.
Sigrika tried anyway. The text was short, simple. Their first.
I’m sorry. Can we talk?
Nothing. No response. Not even a read receipt.
That was two days ago. Sigrika kept checking her phone obsessively. Every notification, every soft ding!, but it was never who she wanted. Why would it be?
Sigrika finally lifted her head back up, rubbing at her eyes. The jabbing pulse in her temple had only increased in severity from when it began several hours ago. She groped the surface of her desk blindly, then remembered. Picking her pencil up from the floor, she squinted at the pages in front of her. The words blurred together, shapes wobbly and conjoining into one.
Sigrika resumed her work, burying herself into it. She couldn’t afford to wallow in her own foolish mistakes. She couldn’t afford to make any more. She had people to help. Professors’ expectations to live up to. Studying to be done, mental math to be perfected and upgraded, Exoswarm to study, Soliskin to play with, engineering to—
Sigrika awoke to bright, sterile lighting. At least she thought so, until her eyes refocused, and the harsh white light softened into more of a soothing amber. Not radiating from the ceiling, as she’d thought, but rather from the windows behind her.
She shivered. She lifted her arm and found goosebumps. The sheets covering her were starch white, crisp, clean, cold. Distantly, she heard the hum of AC.
The infirmary.
There was movement and sound to her left. Denia was pacing back and forth, eyes shut, hands clamped over her ears. Her mouth moved silently, inaudible murmurs. Sigrika strained her ears, managing to hear the tail end of a word: –leph.
“Nia.”
Denia kept pacing. Sigrika twisted, throwing the covers aside, scooting to sit on the edge of the bed. She raised her voice. “Nia!”
Denia’s eyes flew open. Her posture visibly relaxed as she slowed, meeting Sigrika’s eyes in disbelief, as if she’d somehow been hearing things. “Siggy?”
Sigrika grew increasingly concerned. “Are you okay—”
“What are you doing up?!” Denia demanded. “Get back in bed this instant.”
“But—” Sigrika began protesting as Denia attempted to throw the covers over her, which obviously did nothing but flop over her head like a sheet given she was sitting up. Sigrika sputtered, batting it aside. “I’m fine!”
“You are most certainly not.” Denia placed the back of her hand against Sigrika’s forehead. Sigrika bit back a smile as Denia then proceeded to side-eye herself in the window’s reflection, apparently forgetting she couldn’t exactly feel accurate temperature through her gloves. “You looked terrible just yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
Denia told her the date, and Sigrika’s eyes widened. “I’ve been in here for that long?!”
“I told you, you looked terrible.” Denia grimaced as she held her arms out, examining them closely. “If you get me sick, I'll file a complaint.” Sigrika leaned away immediately. “It’s a joke, dummy. You collapsed from exhaustion, not illness.”
“What are you doing here? Not that I mind,” Sigrika added.
“You…” Denia hesitated. She brushed a curl of hair behind her ears. Sigrika’s own fingers twitched, suddenly envious. “You don’t remember, do you.”
“Remember what?” Sigrika wracked her brain. All she could remember was working. And—
Oh no.
“Nia! I’m so sorry. I need to apologize. I—”
Denia clapped her hands, the dull thud of leather effectively silencing her. “Stop. You said that already. I said I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do—”
“You said that already too.” Denia smirked a little as Sigrika tilted her head in confusion. “If it’ll stop your cu—your head from spinning around in worry,” Denia said haltingly, “I forgive you. There.”
“But—”
“Enough. Shush. You, bed.” Denia pointed severely, and Sigrika half-expected the infirmary bed to come to life, throw the sheet around her shoulders, and strangle her to force her to lay back down. Instead, under Denia’s critical eye, Sigrika did that herself. Minus the strangling.
“I don’t think you have clearance to communicate to patients,” Sigrika huffed, crossing her arms. Her pout earned her the slightest of smiles from Nia, so she continued, even allowing her ears to flick for good measure—she usually tried to resist them. “Also, you never said.”
“Said what?”
“Why you’re here.”
Denia was silent. She began roaming about the room, fixing little things here and there. Adjusting the chairs. Throwing wrappers into the trash. Pushing aside the curtains. Finally, “You wanted me to stay.”
It was a hushed admission, cradled in her lips so carefully she seemed reluctant to even let it fly. Sigrika ran through her memories, once, twice, a third time, but could not conjure up any of her past speech that ended in such a statement. “When?”
“Does it matter?” Denia swatted some invisible fly in the air and turned to the door. “Now that you’re better, I’ll actually make my leave. I’ll let Dr. Luuk know you’re up.”
“Nia,” Sigrika called, and Denia stopped, hand turning the doorknob, to glance her way, half suspicious, half wary. “Thank you.”
“Hm.”
Sigrika couldn’t resist. “You’re really sweet—”
Bang! The door slammed shut, but the flutter of blue-pink hair stayed burning in Sigrika’s vision, as did the curious whiff of something like soap.
—
Sigrika plaited her braids, her movements slow. It was more out of distraction than anything methodical. She’d somehow managed to upset Nia not just once, but twice. And all in the span of just over a week.
Oh, by the Solistrees, why did I kiss her?!
A flood of guilt, embarrassment, and nervousness coalesced into a giant squeaky hammer, which continued to smack against Sigrika’s head as she got ready for the day. She cringed every time she felt it, which was often, which caused her to replay the entire scene again, which led to more cringe, and on and on the cycle went.
It had been a spur of the moment decision. Solsworn were not supposed to act on impulse, they were supposed to think, and plan, and confer with their peers, and use efficient calculations to come up with several favorable outcomes. Sigrika resolved to use her mistake as a point of learning.
Sigrika often felt she stood on the precipice of failure, the weight of expectations a heavy breeze constantly threatening to toss her into the sea below. And she’d never felt closer to that edge than she did now. Nia had been so pretty, gilded by the light of her home, the sunflowers bowing as they crossed into Bjartr Woods. And then she’d tried to encourage her, gentleness hidden within those ‘uninterested’ eyes, and Sigrika knew in that instant if she walked into the Solisylum with Nia on her arm, she probably could’ve out-calculated every Heliodic Six in there.
And how did she repay her? She decided to thank Nia the only way she knew how—physical affection—completely forgetting Nia was still a bit uneasy with it, and upon finishing her meeting with the Six, found Denia…gone.
That in itself had been nervewracking enough, but it exacerbated when a Soliskin chirped madly at her, its Chululus! laced in fear. She’d followed it to a different section of Bjartr Woods, horrifyingly drenched in Voidmatter, and discovered the heaping ruins of tainted Exoswarm, long, bubbling gashes striping their sides, as if ripped apart by claws.
Nia’s resonance ability isn’t suited for battle, Sigrika thought hollowly, and desperately continued her search. The Soliskin ended up finding Denia, curled under a rib of old machinery, and Sigrika, foolishly, unthinking, approached her.
Dummy. Nia called her that often, almost affectionately if Sigrika let herself squint, but Sigrika believed it in its entirety this time. Why did she think her presence would at all help? After she so clearly invaded Denia’s boundaries just because she selfishly wanted to, just because she had the tiniest bit of feelings for her? After, presumably, getting ambushed by tainted Exoswarm, and hiding in a panic, why would she want someone to discover her? To drag her out to…where? More tainted sections of Bjartr Woods? Into the arms of someone who clearly didn’t respect her whatsoever?
“I just want to forget everything that happened, okay?”
“I understand,” Sigrika murmured to her reflection. She did. ‘Everything.’ She was smart enough to read between the lines. Whatever in the world had happened to Nia in Bjartr Woods, it wasn’t her business, and she wouldn’t pry. It didn’t change the fact that she was at fault for it in the first place. Sigrika had kissed her, and uncomfortable and weirded out, Denia had run away. And gotten into trouble. She couldn’t blame her for that. She wouldn’t blame her for that. Thus, she would make it right.
First things first, she let Nia have her space. No more dragging her around to hangouts while she was enjoying her peaceful napping. She still visited to hang out from time to time, but for shorter measures, and larger breaks in between. And as for ‘dragging her around,’ she refused to actually tug her by her elbow. Instead, she’d gesture, or lightly pull her somewhere, but always let go immediately if Denia so much as twitched.
This was her repentance. This was what she deserved after acting out of line. Solsworn did not have the luxury to be selfish. The Heliodic Six were meant to give up normal lives for the betterment of all. This was fine.
It was fine.
Nia, unfortunately, was always sharper than Sigrika gave her credit for.
Sigrika could feel her eyes on her in lecture, while she made an effort to study what Professor Mornye was writing on the board. Denia had been pointedly staring at her the past day or so. But she hadn’t said anything, and Sigrika didn’t particularly have the heart to ask. So it’d been a game of Nia staring and Sigrika ignoring her, like a couple of birds debating whether to fight for the high wire. Sigrika almost smiled at the image, but it fell flat.
They were sharing an awkward lunch sometime later, which mainly consisted of Sigrika pushing her food around, frowning at the heap of grilled fern spores atop her plate. She didn’t know why she’d ordered this, honestly. The Academy food was always bad, but fern spores were the bitterest things in existence, and Sigrika hated it with a passion. Perhaps she unintentionally wanted to match her meal to her mood.
“Siggy.”
Nia’s voice was soft, hesitant, like she expected Sigrika to snap at her. It was also the first time she’d heard Denia’s voice in a while; again, it had been a lot of staring. And Sigrika avoiding her. She felt her ears automatically angle themselves, hungry, starving for the inflections of Nia’s voice. When she looked up from her plate to Denia, who was arguably a better view (though that was never in question), she immediately honed in on the orange resting in her palms.
“What is it, Nia?” Without meaning to, she’d lowered her voice as well. A couple of hushed words, a cautious dance between best friends.
Sigrika marvelled at Denia’s ability to peel rinds with her gloves on. Even she could hardly get underneath without using her nails. In fact, she ended up ripping it apart into two halves with her bare strength more often than not. Misty orange droplets sprayed through the air. Denia scrunched her nose, clearly trying not to sneeze, and Sigrika’s pesky heart cooed. You’re the reason I’m in this mess! “Come with me.”
“I’m still eating,” Sigrika answered automatically. Then she remembered what exactly she was (not) eating, and switched to, “Where?”
“A surprise.” Denia tore an orange wedge free, pinching it between two fingers, and offered it across the table. Though her face remained impassive (and distracting), she held the wedge loosely. It reminded Sigrika of the time she’d offered up a flower to a Flora Drone when she was younger. She’d held it up, unsure, and panicked the instant the Exoswarm moved closer, fearful it would suddenly attack. The flower had dropped quietly onto the dirt, and she’d cried into her mother’s arms, who merely chuckled and held her.
Sigrika did not at all like that Denia was looking at her the same way. As if she’d messed up, somehow. As if Denia had anything to blame herself for.
Gently, Sigrika accepted the offering. Denia’s eyes curved the slightest bit, matching her mouth in a surprised, but genuine smile. “You’ll like it,” Denia continued, but the inflection at the end of her statement was wobbly.
Sigrika chewed. The taste of her favorite fruit was hardly registering, the taste of surprise overloading her senses. This was the first time Denia was initiating a hangout. Or…whatever this was. What she wanted to do was engulf Nia in a hug, repeatedly tell her over and over again that yes, she would love to see whatever she came up with. Instead, she planned a way to buy time, to calm down, to relax, to remind herself what she’d done, and what she could no longer do.
She reached her arm over the tabletop, palm up. “More, and I’ll consider it.”
The Reactor Drive had shifted into the light of mid-afternoon as they headed outside the Academy’s side exit, Denia’s motorbike somehow already idling nearby. She planned this?
Her heart skipped. She tamped it down again. Behave.
“Hop on,” Denia ordered, already obeying her own instructions.
“What? I can call my own.”
“Did I say to call your own?” Denia shot back. She adjusted something on the bike’s screen, but what, Sigrika couldn’t tell. “Hurry up, Siggy.”
But I’ll be touching you, Sigrika wanted to point out, but refrained. That was obvious—Nia likely knew. So why was she…?
“Siggy. I’m losing patience.”
Sigrika jumped. Hastily, she climbed on, and settled her hands carefully on Nia’s bare shoulders. Denia kicked her bike into gear, then turned her head to glance sideways at her. “What are you doing?”
“S-sorry.” Sigrika let go immediately.
“Not that, idiot.” Apparently she’d upgraded from ‘dummy’ to ‘idiot.’ “I know you know how to be a proper backpack. Hold me properly.”
Sigrika felt herself blush severely. Stiltedly, she wrapped her arms around Denia’s waist. Not too tight, though, just enough to keep her stable. Denia clicked her tongue, which prompted Sigrika to loosen her grip even more, except Denia seemed to grow even more annoyed at that. Nevertheless, they sped off.
The breeze was nice as they rolled along the bumpy highways, kicking up dust and dirt in every direction. Sigrika squinted, Nia’s hair buffeting her face. It was really soft, and it smelled nice. Sigrika wanted to press herself closer against her back.
Stop it.
Denia slid by the Atuja Camp, slowing to a stop nearby the steep slope of a small hill. Sigrika sniffed the air, hearing the roar of the waterfalls nearby, the contented murmur of gears whirring from strolling Exoswarm.
“Follow,” said Denia, already smoothly striding up the hill. Sigrika hopped off the bike and hastened to catch up.
When they reached the top, Denia reverted back to staring at her. Expectantly, almost. Sigrika cocked her head, taking a brief moment to admire the view—because it was gorgeous, to be sure—but then returned to Denia, who faltered.
“You don’t like it?”
The worry in Nia’s voice ached something fierce in her chest. Sigrika took a half-step forward to reassure her before she caught herself. “No—I mean, yes. It is beautiful, Nia.” Though if she were honest, Lahai-Roi’s view paled in comparison to the one in front of her. Lahai-Roi’s spectacle was a painting, colors dabbed onto living canvas by a master. Denia was…rare birdsong. A special tune, as individual as a fingerprint, each collection of notes never the same as the last. A song that perked up Sigrika’s ears every time she heard it, an invisible call that still urged her eyes to follow.
Denia appeared upset. By what, Sigrika couldn’t fathom, but it was probably because of her again. Her lips were pressing together. It was just shy of a pout. Cu—
“I found a baby Fluffguin nest here,” Denia said suddenly, urgently, motioning to a cluster of bushes just shy from the far edge. The ridiculousness of her statement cut off Sigrika’s train of thought, and she followed, peering through the leaves. “Look.”
Just as she’d expected. Sigrika heaved a sigh, smoothing her expression before she accidentally called Nia something mean with just her eyes. “...these are Blubbin Puffins.”
She might as well have been speaking Soliskin. “A who?”
Honestly, the lack of basic knowledge between the two most common birds of Lahai-Roi was going to drive Sigrika up the wall! She wasn’t blaming Denia for misunderstanding, not completely, but rather the entire Academy. With sole focus on the Exoswarm, people forgot to study the other flora and fauna of the region. Whatever happened to biodiversity?! Keystone species?! You couldn’t just ignore every other creature in favor of the coolest ones. If Sigrika couldn’t educate all of Lahai-Roi, she could at least educate her best friend.
She whipped out her tablet and took a quick photo of the Puffins inside, pulled up another photo she’d saved before of actual Fluffguins, and swiped back and forth between them as she launched into a tirade, pointing out the differences in their feathers, their sizes, their beaks, their eating habits, their mating cycles, their—
“It’s quite clear, really!” Sigrika all but shouted, shaking the tablet in front of Nia’s face.
Denia, however, merely smiled. The sight of it brought Sigrika out of her rant. She cocked her head, lightly flicking the screen. “I can’t exactly tell, Siggy.”
“What do you mean?!” Sigrika swiftly turned the tablet around, almost pressing her nose to it. “It’s—oh.” Her photos hadn’t been, well, good this whole time. In fact, it was impossible to tell they were birds at all. It looked more like an abstract painting, swirls and blurs of solid colors, than anything educational.
With a slight wave of her hand, Denia motioned her over. “Sometimes they chill on the hill’s edge just below us. We can wait and watch for any good photo ops.”
Cautiously, Sigrika lowered herself, scooting so her legs dangled off the earth and swung through the air below. Nia was right; it really was a nice view. From this perspective, if she kicked high enough, Sigrika’s sandals could ‘hit’ the rings of Startorch Academy, knocking all the buildings to the ground.
The thought made her sad, and she decided to sit still. She was rewarded: a couple Puffins waddled by on the edge just below, two strangers based on their body language. One chirped, the other cheeped. Sigrika leaned forward, activating her tablet’s camera feature.
“Siggy.”
“Yes?” Aw, they were getting along! The birds had circled each other and were now jerkily moving their heads back and forth. Which was, unfortunately, awful for clear shots. Sigrika began spamming the shutter button. Surely one of these had to be good.
“I’m sorry.” Sigrika lost focus immediately. She whipped her head around, finding Denia shaking one of her hands, pieces of grass sticking to her glove. “For how I acted in Bjartr Woods.”
For how you acted? “Nia, you have nothing to apologize for.”
Denia held out her hands, splaying her fingers against the gleam of the Reactor Drive, frowning at them as if they’d committed some grave error. “I’m pretty sure I attacked you with my Resonance ability.”
Attacked? Denia had merely summoned a bubble that sent Sigrika back when it popped, hardly anything more severe than a blast of air. Sigrika hadn’t even gotten a bruise, a scrape. She might as well have tripped on her own feet, which was a common enough occurrence when Nia was around.
“Attacked is too strong a word.” Sigrika refocused on the Puffins, one of them freeing the pin feathers of another, mainly to give Denia privacy as she said her next words. “You were in distress.”
“I think distress is too strong a word.”
Denia had no business blaming herself. So, why…?
It’s because I never said sorry, Sigrika realized, with an equal mix of horror and shame. Oh, no. What if Nia thought she’d been avoiding her because she thought Sigrika was mad? At her! Solsworn are supposed to have proper communication, Sigrika reminded herself bitterly. Another failure on her belt. Baldur forbid she do anything but hurt her best friend.
“I should be the one apologizing,” Sigrika said quietly. “I contributed to your discomfort.”
“What?”
For a moment, Denia sounded genuinely confused. But she was probably being nice, giving Sigrika an out for her transgressions, willing to take the blame. Run away if it’s too hard, Nia always said. No. She wouldn’t run away from this. She had to face it head on.
Sigrika took a deep breath. Gripped her tablet so hard she heard the edges creak. “It’s my fault,” she said firmly. “For springing my feel—”
“I liked your flute playing,” Denia said all of a sudden, cutting her off.
“F-flute?”
Sigrika startled when Denia slid closer, the two of them now sitting side-by-side, their shoulders brushing. Huh? I thought she didn’t like—
“You did nothing bad to me, Siggy. You helped me calm down, in fact, when I was afraid from the Exoswarm attack.” Denia’s eyes flickered a little, the slightest unconscious wince, like she was remembering something she didn’t want to. Sigrika pretended not to notice. “I have you to thank for that.”
“W-wait, hold on,” Sigrika said desperately. Something was angling, two puzzle pieces aligning themselves properly to slot together, but not clicking yet. “When…when you said you were ‘uncomfortable’ that night…” She hesitated. Get it together! “The Exoswarm? Attack? Is what you meant?”
“Yes? The way I acted was embarrassing,” Denia said, grimacing. “What did you think I was talking about?”
Oh.
…oh.
It hadn’t been about her at all. Ever. Dummy. The word rang true yet again, though under a far more lighthearted context than before. Sigrika felt heat rise to her cheeks, the tips of her ears, and she scrambled to aim her tablet again for another photo, if only to have something to hide her face against. “Um, nothing!”
The Puffins were now nuzzling each other, an action Sigrika would’ve found cute if her heart wasn’t beating so fast.
Nia wasn’t upset about the kiss. So then…what? Was she fine with it? Where did they stand now?! What was happening??
Her heart beat even faster when Denia suddenly leaned in, and Sigrika froze, her tablet jittering as the screen misread the inputs of her thumbs pressing forcefully against it. Soft leather brushed against the edges of her ear, and Sigrika let it twitch reflexively. Quietly, almost imperceptibly, Denia huffed out a laugh, the air of her voice brushing against the side of her face.
What is happening. What is happening? What? Is? Happening?
Sigrika broke when Denia leaned in all the more, ostensibly to play with Sigrika’s bangs for reasons she could not conjure enough working neurons to figure out. She averted her eyes downward to avoid looking at Denia’s face, and spotted Trickster and her sheep pouch brushing against each other, almost ‘kissing.’
“N-Nia,” Sigrika lowered her head away from Denia’s hand. She needed a second, just a second, to breathe. She still didn’t know what was happening. Her heart was beating so fast she was pretty sure it had reincarnated into a bird and was about to fly away. She managed a stupid excuse: “I’m trying to take photos.”
“Sorry.” To her immense disappointment and relief, Denia retreated.
As if to mock her, when she shakily held up her tablet again, the two Puffins were sitting close enough to look like the shape of a heart if one squinted. Rudeness aside, it would be a good photo. Sigrika aimed carefully.
Denia returned. The whisper of her voice was the final detriment to her sanity, the brush of words against her ear the snap of her heart taking flight. “My thank-you,” Denia said, the words hardly registering to the recipient, because Sigrika felt the softest kiss to the side of her head, the caress of Denia’s hair against her shoulder, and knew, irrevocably, she was completely and utterly doomed.
Sigrika dropped her tablet.