Work Text:
“Ramona, get up and eat right now. I don’t have spare time to spend all day waking you up like a child.”
Ramona’s consciousness was so lightheaded that she couldn't make sense of anything; the words issuing from the vocal cords of the person sitting nearby sounded like a jumble of meaningless characters, as if they had been submerged in decay.
It was only when a spoonful of lightly sweet liquid was fed into her mouth that those previous words gradually took shape, allowing her to realize that the voice belonged to Doll.
She said nothing, merely receiving every spoonful of porridge brought to her mouth with steady routine. Neither of them uttered another word; there was only the soft sound of porridge being savored and taken onto Ramona’s tongue.
Before the final spoonful, Doll spoke up to ask how her body was currently feeling. Ramona simply gave a slight nod and took the last bite.
“Your health really is getting worse by the day, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps it’s just because the black lake is becoming more unstable; it’s nothing for you to worry about.”
Doll merely nodded to let it pass. After all, telling Ramona everything about her true identity right now wasn't a good idea. It would come eventually, and Ramona would have to face it—a path marked out from the very first second.
“Is Keeper doing alright currently?”
“Just out on a mission, nothing major—just trivial matters. Just rest. Worrying about others when you’re sick yourself isn't a good idea.”
“That’s good then.”
Ramona had been with Doll long enough to know that despite her expression and demeanor always remaining singular, her words could sometimes carry deep emotion—quite the contrast to her otherwise awkward, overly rational side.
“Aren’t you very busy?”
“That’s why I was rushing you to eat earlier.”
That was true enough, and so their conversation lapsed into an awkward silence once more. Neither knew what to say next, leaving Ramona with nothing to do but stare at the bowl of soup that had now been placed on the wooden shelf beside the headboard.
She assumed that in just a few minutes, Doll would have to leave and continue her work until her usual hours. After all, her official working hours ran from Monday to Sunday at the exact same time.
Yet after waiting a while, Doll hadn't budged. She simply sat there staring at Ramona, lost in thought. Ramona didn't think there was any other lingering complication in her body that would require the mind of Mythag to ponder like this.
Whatever it was, the relentless gaze only made her feel more self-conscious. Faced with that silence, she hoped Doll would at least say something.
“I think I can push my working hours back a bit. Making up for the work later won't affect my usual schedule.”
Ramona understood—that meant how much longer Doll would sit here with her was a different matter entirely. But Doll saying so likely meant they wouldn't have to spend the whole time staring at each other... or so she hoped.
“Would you like some herbal tea? It might help a little.”
“I wouldn't mind.”
With that, Doll stepped out for a moment and returned shortly—so quickly that Ramona had to wonder if it had been left right outside the door.
Doll poured a cup swiftly and handed it to Ramona. The rising steam was just warm enough without being scalding enough to make her wince. Ramona took a small sip, then a longer gulp, down to the very last drop.
“Good?”
“Like always.”
This was nothing unusual for the two of them. Doll had known Ramona since she was small, back when Ramona was frequently offered tea whenever she walked past and saw her Father discussing matters with Doll.
Even though she hadn't quite understood what they were talking about back then, the taste of the tea in her hands had always left her with a comforting feeling.
“May I have another cup?”
“No, too much isn't good for you either. Now just rest. I’ll report to Dexter that you’re stable. That old man is probably drunk out of his mind somewhere right now anyway, who knows.”
“Father is always like that, isn't he?”
“Well then, I’m off. If you need anything, call for me—though whether I show up in person depends.”
Just as Doll turned to leave, a voice—weakened by fever yet raised in volume—belonging to Ramona on the bed pulled Doll’s gaze back toward her once more.
“Speak.”
“Could you come a little closer?”
Hearing this, Doll took only a step closer from where she stood. But taking one look at Ramona’s gesture, she had no choice but to draw right up to the bedside—close enough that if Ramona wished, she could easily pull Doll down beside her.
Ramona gave Doll’s sleeve a gentle yank. It was enough to catch Doll off guard, causing her to fall forward. In that very instant, Doll could have sworn she felt the sweetness combined with the intense warmth of the other girl wrapping tightly around her.
Though the body Doll inhabited was not her true self but merely a surrogate vessel, the heat she felt seemed to rise with every passing moment.
On Ramona’s end, it was quite the opposite. The synthetic body before her possessed no warmth whatsoever, yet the cool sensation she received felt heavenly against the current state of her feverish body.
Doll’s biological sensory functions could register tastes, so the faint sweetness lingering on her tongue remained clear as day until the two finally separated. She felt it vividly.
When they were no longer intertwined, Ramona—who had looked utterly exhausted just moments ago—now appeared as though her fever had subsided.
Doll, on the other hand, looked as if she were the one who had just fallen ill instead.
“If you’re feeling better, you might as well go to work right now.”
Doll didn't hear another word from Ramona aside from a quiet "thank you" right after, up until the moment she stepped out of the room.
Once she had composed herself, Doll merely muttered under her breath:
“Dexter, you and this girl really share an unnecessary amount of traits.”
Grumbling to herself without caring whether anyone heard, she turned and walked back toward her office.