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Rain taps incessantly against her window, for Roscaelifer being a city amongst the skies, it rained a lot here, and rather aggressively at that.
Belle thinks of drenched clothes the night she saw Truvia get impaled; the shivering in her bones, the shake in her heart, the sinking, the suffocating feeling in her chest as Pyrois dismantled her protests. She lets out a sigh, rubbing her eyes.
That was an awful night.
She could’ve never been more thankful for a person when Remielle showed up, wing stretched over her head to shield her from the rain despite how drenched she already was, playful musings on her tongue as she dried Belle up before sharing stories of her own and making Belle dry her wings. She was still shaken up, hands still trembling with nerves, but at least with Remielle’s voice and presence she could try to stabilize the erratic thumping of her heart and the terrible feeling in her throat and focus on the soft fluff of the pink haired woman’s feathers.
Belle had hardly slept a wink on the couch of the Eh-Nah Gang’s base. To think she’d see another one of her old classmates get attacked and killed like that—thankfully, Truvia was alive, albeit, hardly holding on. Belle and Wise had visited her room in the infirmary earlier, being allowed to do so after intensive privacy screening, after all, there still was a search for Remielle and well… Pyrois in a sense, for Truvia’s attempted murder and the kidnapping of Dracaene.
Unbelievable really, a part of her is still upset about it.
About Remielle's secrets, the plan with Sigrid and Lindverne. but she supposes she can’t brood about it too long considering that the older woman had apologized in that quiet, gentle, vulnerable tone of hers.
Belle shook her head, refusing to let her throat clog at the memories and words that were exchanged. Reprimands about the nature of being partners-in-crime and promises of seeing each other again. Remielle doesn’t break promises, Belle knows, she had showed up days later in her room, a charismatic smile gracing her lips and white wings fluttering in the sunlight.
But only to say goodbye and leave with even more confusing words.
Maybe Belle should’ve hugged her before she went.
Should’ve done something for the wistful look in her eyes.
Belle exhaled, staring at what Wise had uncovered while Girtablullu resided in Dracaene’s body hoping to get her mind off a certain pink haired fugitive. Despite the breakthrough, realizing what had been going on, that being the culprit, whoever it was, was using reactivated Singularity Leakages to move Girtablullu into the Dracaene's office which is likely where the Enchainer larvae had attacked her.
Even with all that, was their plan?
To create an Enchainer, likely, but the question is who was orchestrating the plan?
She chews on one of her hoodie strings, staring at the pieces, the clues, the map, the theories she had written down, Fairy’s analyses.
So much information yet so little.
Belle's mind wandered to an old friend.
Fluffy ginger hair, green eyes, and a lopsided smile.
She thinks of the blurry image she saw in that mech before it exploded. A man, fluffed ginger hair, face obscured, but he looked like he could’ve been around Belle’s age.
Around the age that Serpico would’ve been–
She chooses to lose the thought.
Rain patters at her window.
She needs to clear her mind, but it would be a bad idea to go out for a walk this late at night considering the storm. Fairy was sufficiently on rest mode, although Belle knew that her dear AI assistant would always be alert should she make any unwise decisions.
“Man,” Belle grumbled, rubbing at her forehead in frustration.
The rain gets louder, as if the barrier given by the walls and window had been removed.
Belle swivels around on her chair–
“Hello~ did I startle you?”
“Remielle?!”
The woman in question lets out a giggle, stepping down from where she sat on the window still. Her wings moved to shut the window close, despite the raincoat and all, Belle could see that she was positively drenched, the water dripping off her wings and clothes onto the floor.
“What're you–“ Belle is at a loss for words as Remielle stands there elegantly, smiling at her with her usual easy-going yet alluring smile. Her brows scrunch as she immediately jumps up from her chair, crossing her room to reach Remielle, eyes running all over the pink haired woman with great concern.
“Lovely weather we’re having,” Remielle says.
She was drenched, soaked really.
Belle furrows her brows, “What’re you doing here? I thought you were in Vyrium? How did you get here?”
“Now, now, isn’t that too many questions for our Q&A game?” Remielle teases, tone light despite the fact that she was definitely shivering now thanks to the air conditioning in Belle’s room. She took off her raincoat, folding it neatly before putting it down somewhere where it wouldn’t track too much water. Belle made a face which seemed to amuse Remielle more, eyes twinkling with mirth as Belle shook her head. She quickly grabbed a towel.
“Should you really be concerned about the terms and conditions of that when you’re soaking wet and dripping all over my floor?” Belle remarks, there’s a sincere lack of bite as she dries Remielle off.
She lets out a sigh once she finds that Remielle's hair is sufficiently dried enough, damp rather than drenched. She takes care to gingerly dab the water off Remielle's face. She frowns as the retired Void Hunter smiles at her, clearly entertained by the situation.
She narrows her eyes at Remielle and her pretty face and even prettier eyes.
“Scolding me all while tenderly drying me?” Remielle teases, grinning. “Your actions are quite contradictory, Ms. Model Citizen.”
“I'll take it back,” Belle drops her hands. “dry yourself.”
“Aw, I was starting to get used to this treatment,” Remielle says with a faux pout. “At least help me dry off my wings?”
Belle rolls her eyes before grabbing another clean towel and handing it to Remielle who dried herself off sufficiently enough to sit on the sofa. She turned her back towards Belle as she joined her.
“Are you going to answer my questions?” Belle asks, already getting to work. She started with patting at Remielle’s primaries, working carefully to not rustle her feathers too much.
She vaguely thinks back to that rainy night, something similar to this. The dim and dingy light of Remielle’s refuge, a small towel clutched in her trembling hands as she patted Remielle's wings dry, moving carefully from the primary and secondary coverts to ease her mind from the chaos of what she had seen that night.
Secrets and histories shared within whispers and gentle murmurs.
Memories of the dead shared between two guilty souls.
“I suppose I could since you’re helping me dry my wings,” Remielle hummed, pulling Belle out of her thoughts. “I felt like it, coming here.”
Belle paused.
She knows that with her back turned, Remielle can’t see the kind of face she’s making but she hopes that the retired Void Hunter knows her expression is full of disbelief.
“You left like venturing out to Booastrum in the rain, while you’re recovering, to sneak into my room through my window?” Belle asked incredulously. “How did you even get in? My window’s locked.”
“My, my just more questions after another?” Remielle hums and Belle pats at her wings with a little more pressure than before. The pink haired woman didn’t seem to mind, a giggle escaping her as Belle frowned.
“God forbid a woman wants to see her dear partner-in-crime~” Remielle answered with a lilt in her tone.
Belle felt herself flush at the implications that maybe Remielle missed her too.
Nonetheless, she kept her mouth shut lest she say something she shouldn’t have as she moved on through Remielle’s feathers after being satisfied that her primaries were dry enough.
“Right,” Belle mumbled. “You hate the rain, and getting wet. And your wings are soaked. Is this really a ‘felt like it’ occurrence?”
“A necessary sacrifice to see you, I'd say,” Remielle looks over her shoulder, smiling warmly. Belle feels her cheeks warm, heart stutter, she averts her eyes. hands pausing, “And, I know someone who’d dry my wings if I asked them.”
Belle lets out a grumble.
The audacity of this woman.
“There's something seriously wrong with you,” she says. She continues to tenderly care for Remielle's wings, ensuring things are plenty dry before moving onto the next area. She ignores the way her ears burn and focuses on drying the base of Remielle's wings. How long must’ve she been in the rain for her to be soaked this thoroughly?
“That's no way to treat a guest, Belle,” she teases lightly.
“A guest who broke into my room,” Belle states. She sighs, deciding to move along the conversation to something a bit more serious, something she admittedly had been curious and admittedly worried about.
Although at a glance nothing seems wrong, but Remielle seems a little weaker than before. Like there were gaps in her well-crafted structure. Perhaps that was the effect of the Enchainer transformation, but with the treatment in Vyrium, she should be recovering well enough. Perhaps also caring for Dracaene's condition would also have a toll on her.
Belle thinks of golden veins on her skin, ones that she wasn’t supposed to see, ones that Belle remembers being on her own skin once before in the Lemnian Hollow.
Labored breaths and a woman crouched over on her knees like she was struggling to even stand properly. Remielle had pushed her away the moment the veins started glowing again, begging that Belle look away from her.
She thinks about it.
Calm, enigmatic, confident Remielle Dan: retired Void Hunter, Belle’s most recent source of annoyance and plaguer of her thoughts, with her pink hair and pretty eyes, flirty smile, and confusing words.
Crumpled and exhausted, her voice full of defeat and exhaustion like her lungs were closing in on her.
Words of deprecation escaping her lips, sacrifices to be made on her own, the idea of lost memories and loved ones, the concept of having to shoulder the fates of everyone on her own.
It upsets Belle.
They were partners after all, weren’t they?
Belle thinks even after everything, secrecy and riddles, feathers and self-sacrificing actions, she’d still choose to stand by Remielle’s side; to take her hand and let her pull her onto the glass rooftop and spin her into a dance, to hold her in Pyrois’ arms and carry her to safety.
She’d still want to feel her warmth.
“How… How's your recovery?”
A pause.
“Going along.”
As vague as ever.
But what is Remielle if not just full of vague mysterious riddles and odd words that Belle could never truly decipher? Although she thinks she’s definitely gotten to know Remielle enough to pinpoint what’s going through her mind at times, right now is not one of those times.
Especially when she’s coming out from Vyrium to break into Belle's room for the sole reason of wanting to see her.
In the rain no less.
And Belle knows that Remielle hates the rain.
“And Lady Dracaene?” Belle asks.
“It’s not very kind to ask about other women when your partner is right here,” Remielle says with that fake pouty tone of hers that has Belle swallowing the lump in her throat. She withholds from throwing the towel at Remielle’s head, nose scrunching with displeasure while Remielle chuckles softly at her protesting silence, “I’m teasing.”
“She’s alive, just not conscious,” Remielle states.
Belle nods.
They sit in silence for the longest while, something peaceful and solemn as Belle dries Remielle's wings, gingerly tracing over her soft feathers to ensure each and every one was dried enough to her liking. She wonders how the retired Void Hunter kept them so soft.
Remielle hums lightly, a tune that Belle doesn’t know but enjoys all the same considering that it’s Remielle and her pretty voice. Her hands pat against the wet feathers, collecting the water droplets. They remain firm and stable, unlike before when she was shaking violently.
The rain patters against her closed window, remaining as a reminder of what looms over them, the events behind them and what’s to come and Belle lets out another sigh as she pulls back when she’s done with Remielle's wings.
“Better?” she asks, standing up. She collects the other towel from Remielle.
“Much,” the older woman smiles faintly at her, feathers fluffing as she allows for her wings to stretch out after remaining in the same position. “Could I borrow some clothes? Mine are… quite damp.”
Belle blinks.
“Huh?”
Remielle pouts.
“Do you expect a lady to stay in wet clothes all night?” she says, puffing out her cheeks adorably. It makes Belle’s heart clench even if just for a brief moment, "I'll have you know that despite being a Void Hunter, I'm quite capable of getting sick.”
“Ah,” Belle blinks, Remielle's words hardly catching up to her brain. Usually her brain’s always working at exceptional speeds, always processing, always thinking, but suddenly the idea of Remielle in her clothes, settled in her room has her brain stuttering.
She wonders if the flush on her skin is noticeable in the dim, warm lighting of her room.
“Hm?” Remielle leans forward, breaching into Belle's space like it didn’t matter.
Not that it ever did, Belle is terrible at keeping her distance anyways.
“What's wrong?”
”N-Nothing,” Belle shook her head, cheeks warming. “I'll… get you something.”
Remielle pauses for a good moment, eyes scanning over Belle's face curiously. Belle swallows, suddenly feeling very scrutinized like Remielle was reaching into her soul and taking a look at her insides. There's a glint in her pink eyes and she laughs.
Belle's heart nearly stops.
“Pervert,” she giggles, clearly amused. She leans back on the sofa, kicking a leg over the other, crossing them. A smug smile graces her lips, eyes sparkling mischievously like she’s caught Belle exactly where she wanted her to.
Belle tries not to look, to stare.
It’s hard to.
Remielle is very pretty.
“It's nothing like that!” Belle huffs, storming away to grab a set of clothes. Remielle wasn’t too much taller than her, although she did have much more of a figure than Belle did. Belle immediately shook her head at that thought, what is she thinking? She exhaled deeply through her nose and reached in for one of her more oversized shirts, a pair of shorts, and another towel.
“Geez,” Belle tries to sound frustrated behind her blush. She pushes the clothes into Remielle's arms, “Bathroom’s down the hall, take my soap.”
“Is it a really good idea to be letting a fugitive roam your halls?” Remielle inquires, taking the clothes.
“Everyone's asleep at this hour,” Belle states.
“Everyone, but you,” Remielle corrects.
Belle shrugs.
“Go before I start screaming that you’re trying to kidnap me,” it’s an empty threat, really. But it makes Remielle laugh and she finds that she’ll take that win.
“Doesn't that sound more romantic than our usual escapades?” Remielle says. She leaves before Belle could say anything else, leaving the poor proxy to have to think about her words on her own.
Belle may or may not have heart problems because of Remielle and that’s just another thing to add onto her ever-growing list of problems. Alas though, she groans into her hands and shakes her head to rid herself of anything nefarious.
Like how pretty Remielle is or how nice her laugh sounds or how soft her wings are or how her eyes–
That's enough.
Belle sits herself back on her desk, screen still on with everything that she, Wise, and Fairy were able to uncover about anything going on in Roscaelifer. Despite looking at it with fresh eyes, she’s still unable to even make any feasible connections, any links towards the culprit of these disasters. She knows that the goal is the Creator, she’s sure of it.
That’s what anyone’s goals these days have been, it’s for the Creator; that’s what Sarah’s was, that’s what the Exalists’ were, that’s what Bringer’s was. Everything leads back to the Creator and the Hollows and it just gets more complicated and it makes her head hurt. But this is what will lead her to the secrets of Helios Academy, her and Wise’s eyes, and their teacher.
She wishes that Fairy could’ve saved the visual footage from that mech before it exploded. She wished she could’ve cleared the image faster, past the static and blur, the corruption. She wishes she had answers to her questions.
A sigh escapes her.
She's been doing that a lot lately.
Belle stares at the screen, maps and locations, words and theories. They all lead somewhere but also nowhere. Everything about Karma Cores that Remielle told her has been written down, Fairy had searched through databases to find some kind of history on them, research, even having the AI assistant look through documents about Void Hunter weapons. but alas, nothing came up.
It was either that evidence of research and experiments were destroyed or expertly hidden past Fairy’s grasp.
She doesn’t think she’ll be getting much sleep for the next while if she doesn’t make any breakthroughs with this–
“What’re you looking at?”
Belle jolts, only just now noticing Remielle had reentered the room. She was either too deep into her thoughts to notice or Remielle was really just that quiet in her movements. Her head snapped to look over at the retired Void Hunter who was looking over her shoulder, eyes curiously looking over what Belle was trying to piece together.
She was wearing Belle's clothes, the oversized shirt and shorts, hair damp from the shower this time. She looks ridiculously comfortable already. Something about the soft glow of the warm lights in Belle's room quietly gracing her skin or something. Belle forces herself to look away, trying not to take too much into the image. Any more staring and Remielle might notice and tease her about it.
Belle swallowed thickly.
“Remielle?” the proxy blinked.
“Who else?” the retired Void Hunter smiled.
Her eyes flickered back at the computer screen, “Lots of data and research. Still looking into the culprit of the Bangboo incidents?”
“Yeah,” Belle mumbled, bringing a hand to her mouse. She clicked on the screen with the map of Booastrum where wise had uncovered the usage of reactivated Singularity Leakages to draw Girtablullu, “The culprit reactivated the Singularity Leakages and overlapped them to give Girtablullu a path and access point into Lady Dracaene’s office.”
“Mhm,” Remielle nodded, “and that’s where you and your friends ended up after entering them. In her office.”
Belle holds her breath, “Yeah.”
She thinks of blood.
Truvia’s blood.
A large tendril through her abdomen, the shriek that came out of her, the shock in her eyes.
Belle never thought she’d have to see the second half of Icarus fall like that.
“This is all because of you…”
Ginger hair and blood and green eyes and blood–
“Otherwise Serpico wouldn’t have–”
“Belle,” Remielle's hand is warm against her shoulder, through the fabric of her hoodie and all. Constant and comforting, Belle feels bad that she’s this weak and has to rely on Remielle to keep her together. Her brows scrunched in concern, face lack of her usual playful disposition, “You’re not breathing.”
“I'm not,” Belle agrees with a tired smile. She takes a breath, one for Remielle, one for Wise, “I just...”
“It’s okay,” Remielle says carefully. “I understand.”
Because Remielle does.
She understands what it feels like to have the blood of your comrades on her hands. to have their blood stain so deeply into your skin like it's a permanent mark of your sin. She knows what exactly it's like to see someone die and to watch life flicker out of their eyes and do nothing but to be helpless about it.
“There’s always something to be unhappy with,” she says wistfully, Like she’s thinking back to in her memories, to Colonel Vike and in her last moments. Echoing sobs as she felt her lungs fill with a pain she could not swallow down, her chest aching with a cry that threatened to break through her throat, “We just have to live with it.”
“Things don’t get better,” she breathes, “just easier.”
She gives Belle's shoulder a firm squeeze.
And then she looks back at the screen.
“Did you manage to piece anything else together?” Remielle asks.
“I'm stuck,” Belle frowns, her free hand reaching for the hand Remielle has on her shoulder. She doesn’t know what she’s doing anymore, but she hears the sad tone in Remielle’s voice; the sound of someone who yearned for a fate different from the one that was given; the melancholic hue of a woman who wished for answers yet was given none, and she can’t help herself.
She quietly takes Remielle's hand away from her shoulder, gingerly taking her hand in her own, putting effort in interlacing their fingers. Her hands are a lot rougher than Belle's yet still delicate, like they could hold the world and love it in a way that matters. Remielle lets her, moving a little closer until Belle could feel her warmth against her back. Something about this feels so raw, something vulnerable, not meant to be seen or perceived. Remielle's breathing is soft and quiet and Belle stares at her computer screen, the taunting map and gives Remielle’s hand a tight squeeze that she doesn’t say anything about.
Just two women with the blood of their loved ones on their hands and trying to find the answers for it.
“The Singularity Leakages were reactivated to overlap,” Belle mumbles again. She moves the mouse, tracing along the red circles Fairy had drawn over the map of Booastrum, heading straight into Dracaene’s office in the CCD, “And… the culprit is going out of their way to corrupt Bangboo.”
Fluffy ginger hair and a man who could be about her age.
Fluffy ginger hair and lively green eyes and a toothy grin.
The other half of Icarus to Truvia’s half.
Her adoptive brother.
Belle and Wise’s close friend.
Serpico.
“Is it possible for the dead to come back to haunt you?” Belle questions, fingers tightening around her mouse. Remielle's feathers seem to bristle at the thought, fingers tightening around Belle's, "Or am I just seeing things?”
“Sometimes, they do,” Remielle's voice lacks its usual luster.
Belle shakes her head, looking up at the older woman, wondering if she could mask the burning of her eyes and the way her throat bobs and the quiver of her lip.
She doesn’t think she can when she meets Remielle’s gaze.
Entirely soft, eyebrows just slightly up-turned, creased together with clear worry and concern, a small frown gracing her lips. Her other hand comes up, gently cradling Belle's face. Her touch is soft, gentle, warm; Belle needs it desperately. She lets Remielle hold her, lets the woman peel away her defenses and words and everything and she lets herself be vulnerable in Remielle's hands.
Because god, who else could she let take her apart and put back together other than Remielle?
The same sins are etched into their skin.
“Is this what you’ve been thinking about?” she asks carefully, softly, quietly, like she’s afraid to break the fragile moment between them. Her question hangs heavily in the air, waiting for Belle to tug it down with a proper answer, “About him? About Helios?”
“I can’t help it,” Belle admits, and she thinks about how Serpico died.
Screams and blood, Truvia’s incoherent screams and sobs. Her stunned hands, shaking, trembling, nerves burning like they weren’t hers. Wise’s hands on her shoulders, desperately calling out to her.
“Maybe, I'm seeing things,” she says doubtfully.
Fluffy ginger hair and a young man who could be her age.
“I don’t know,” she mumbles.
A thumb passes across her cheek and Remielle tilts her head upwards for a clearer view.
“You’ve been losing sleep over this?” Remielle asks.
“Maybe,” Belle is hesitant to admit and Remielle shakes her head.
“Don’t get all avoidant on me now, my dear partner-in-crime,” she says, her voice nothing short of fond. “It’s not a good look on you. What happened to sharing the burden?”
Belle musters a chuckle, “I guess… I just wish I knew. If it was him or not. That’s why I wanted to recover the image in the mech.”
“I know,” Remielle breathes, she lets her hand fall, the warmth still lingering on Belle's cheek. “You don’t have to find all the answers now, you know? We’ve hardly scratched the surface, don’t beat yourself up over something you can’t help. Especially if you’re going to lose sleep over it. It'll make little ‘ol me worry.”
“Haven’t I troubled you enough already? What’s a little more?” Belle laughs, thumb passing over Remielle's knuckles. She wants to soak in Remielle's warmth and comfort and be selfish and concede to her wants. But how do you do that without tilting the balances?
But maybe they are crossing those lines already, tilting those balances.
Belle thinks of the dance they shared under the night with a threat right underneath them. The warm feeling of Remielle’s hand in her own, the weight of the pink haired woman’s hand on her shoulder as she held her waist and felt something bloom in her chest.
Perhaps they did soak in each other’s warmth, even for just a couple of moments.
She thinks of spinning Remielle and how pretty she looked under the night sky. The faint music from below, the soft expression on Remielle's face, and how Belle felt her ears burn as an unknown confidence let her dip the retired Void Hunter gracefully.
God, she looked so pretty.
“I fear I might be rubbing off on you a little too much,” Remielle smiles, something sincere and awfully fond. She tugs at Belle, “C’mon, let’s go to sleep. I'll lay with you if that helps?”
“In the morning,” Belle lets herself be tugged out of her chair; she clicks her computer into rest, the monitor shutting off for the first time in hours, “will you be gone?”
When I wake up, will I wake up to your warmth or the lingering essence of it?
Remielle gives another smile, faint and enigmatic as always but her eyes always betray her.
Something sincere and sweet, adoring and soft, Belle wonders if Remielle finds as much comfort in her as Belle does with her. Perhaps she does, when she pulls Belle towards the bed, settling down first and pulling the proxy right on top of her. Her wings gingerly wrap around Belle, the feeling soft and Belle lets herself fall into the embrace, sinking into further mattress and Remielle’s arms. She buries herself into the crook of Remielle's neck, finding that her arms are most comfortable around the woman’s neck.
Remielle smells of honeysuckle and vanilla and Belle's shampoo.
“Someone’s clingy,” she teases.
Belle's hold tightens.
“Can’t I miss someone?”
Remielle laughs, light and earnest.
Her hands against Belle's back are warm and her feathers ruffle with something affectionate. Belle makes a satisfied noise against her neck and Remielle lets out a giggle.
“I missed you too.”
“Could you stay?” Belle asks, lifting her head, just enough to see Remielle’s face.
“Since you’re asking me so nicely,” Remielle smiles, teasing. She presses a kiss to the corner of Belle's mouth, just barely shy of her lips, “I don’t see why not.”
Belle flushes and Remielle chuckles.
“What?” she teases. “Not satisfying enough? When did you get so greedy, my dear proxy?”
“You could at least bother to kiss me properly if you’re going to sleep in the same bed as me,” Belle frowns, feeling her face burn. Remielle’s hold on her loosens, allowing for Belle to properly sit up on the retired Void Hunter’s lap, she places a hand against Remielle's sternum to push herself up. A wing moves, feathers soft against Belle's cheek as Remielle laughs from where she’s laying underneath Belle.
“What a precarious position,” Remielle muses, hands tracing the softness of Belle’s thighs. Her touch leaves tingles in its path all over Belle’s skin. Belle would've enjoyed it if it weren't for the borderline smug look on Remielle's face, the flirty smile, and the way she traced careful shapes on her skin.
She reddens and groans into her hands.
“You put us in this position!” Belle hisses, flustered.
“It’s a good view,” Remielle laughs and that doesn’t really help at all.
She pauses for a moment, gaze softening. She quietly takes Belle’s hands off her face.
“Do you want me to? Kiss you?”
“If you could.”
Remielle's hand comes up to grasp at Belle’s hoodie strings, pulling her down. Their lips meet in a soft press, faint, and sweet. The kiss isn’t anything out of movies, there’s no fireworks or explosions. No cheering to be heard. The world doesn’t slow, the rain still patters against the window and the light still reflects warmly.
Just the warmth between them and the thumping of hearts. Remielle's arms slip past Belle's neck, deepening the feeling. She makes a noise of satisfaction like she had been waiting for this singular moment for far too long, pulling away with this loving look of adoration that makes Belle want to kiss her again.
It’s still raining and Belle lets herself sink into Remielle's embrace, laying right on top of her.
“Are we going to sleep like this?” Remielle asks, voice teasing and light. She brings a hand to Belle's hair, running her fingers through blue locks.
“I'm comfortable,” Belle brings her arms to wrap securely around Remielle's neck, voice muffled as she finds a way to somehow bury herself deeper into the crook of the woman’s neck. She finds herself getting sleepy, all caution being thrown into the wind when she’s in Remielle's arms as her exhaustion and lack of sleep finally catches up to her.
She lets Remielle shift them into a more comfortable position, pulling the blanket over their bodies as sleep begins taking over Belle's body, eyelids beginning to feel heavy as honeysuckle and vanilla around her.
Remielle is terribly warm.
“Remie…” she mumbles, half-awake, “…will you stay?”
Remielle laughs lightly, lovingly, something filled to the brim with adoration.
“If you’ll let me.”
“Could you?”
“Then I will,” Remielle pressed a kiss to the crown of Belle’s head, fleeting and kind.
“Sleep well, my dear.”