river_meimei | (no subject)

(no subject)

River's wearing her brown coat, as she does most days.

In one pocket: a wooden ring. An iron ankh. A black handkerchief.

She slips them between her fingers inside her pocket as she paces through the ship, watching her other hand slide along the bulkhead below a clustered length of wiring.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

River gives Kaylee a duh face -- notice the brown coat, Kaylee? -- and gives the question careful consideration before nodding decisively.

"What're you in the mood for?" She's got her hands in her pockets as they emerge into the kitchen. "Think we still got a couple of tangelos in the cold box."

...Tangelos are good.

Kaylee grins, and reaches down, opening the door. "Anything ought to go with it?"

"I have fingers," River informs her amiably.

"Ten."

"...and I don't deny protein's good for you, but fingers ain't exactly what I had in mind." She retrieves two tangelos, stands, and nudges the door shut with her knee, reaching in a drawer for a knife. "Let's finish these off before we make any hasty decisions."

"Never do," River says solemnly and mendaciously, and obediently holds out both hands for her tangelo.

Which Kaylee hands over. "You want the knife, or you just want to peel it?"

(There isn't a second thought about handing River the knife.)

River holds the tangelo to the light, staring at it with peculiar intensity. No more than inanimate objects often get from her, though.

"I can break the ramparts," she informs the fruit, very seriously.

"Have at, then." Kaylee grins, and reaches for the cutting board to slice hers.

River begins to, digging her nails into the rind and smiling a little at the orange juice that coats them.

Kaylee eyes this, and reaches over to put a napkin by River.

And as she's slicing:

"Daniel's safe. But I don't know, maybe Moiraine's right about the claws, only -- who the hell would I ask?"

Thunk goes the knife on the cutting board; two halves fall away, turning a little, seesawing back and forth from the force of the impact.

Kaylee hasn't said anything.

River's frozen anyway, eyes fixed on her.

Very softly, "Nothing's safe."

Kaylee looks up, poised to slice a half into quarters. "Shenme?"

River glances down at her tangelo, too sharply, with a slightly shaky breath and a faint sway as she reorients herself.

"Blossom and fruit. It's all from the stem."

"River -- " A soft click as she puts down the knife.

River's eyes lift.

There are times when River looks much younger than she is; there are times when she looks older. This is one of the latter.

Softly, "You're scared."

Juice is on her fingers, sticky and sour-sweet.

Kaylee swallows.

Says, also softly, "It ain't nothin's not always there. Trick's to ignore it. It's -- it's okay."

River...shouldn't have to pick up on this. Kaylee isn't doing a good enough job of hiding it.

"Shouldn't be." Soft, and faintly sad.

And then her eyes shift, and she frowns, the impression of age faiding slightly into confusion.

"And you should."

"If. Too many conditions -- it's all predicated."

"...what's got conditions?"

Sometimes Kaylee knows she can listen, and then ride over it, when it doesn't make sense. Other times --

Other times it's better to ask. To try and coax out what she means.

"Everything."

...and some times it's harder than others.

Kaylee picks up the knife again. Stills.

"Just got to live with it." She's calm, and her gaze is a little distant -- until she looks up and gives River a sad, apologetic half-smile. "Figure you know better than anybody how sorry I am over this whole mess."

"Not her fault." That's almost sharp; almost fierce.

Not quite. There's too much compassion and too much age in her face for that. Her fingers cradle the tangelo with incongruous care.

"Nature of the equation. They help and -- they hurt. At once. Ain't you."

Kaylee's head lifts a little more.

"Wasn't him, either." Her voice is steady.

Nyarlathotep, Moiraine says, has claws. And Kaylee knows.

But Nyarlathotep isn't all there is to him. And nightmares -- good

(Being one of Dream's does not necessarily protect you from danger at the claws of the Lord of Nightmare, should his temper rise.)

things can come out of them. Eventually.

Sometimes.

River is Del's.

Delirium brings relief; Delirium brings pain; Del is in the sunlight and the dance and the sterile light that glints off scalpels and hypodermic needles.

It affects her opinion, maybe.

Softly, "He's sorry too."

"I know it." She looks down again, thought-gathering. "Thing is -- "

And up.

"He is what he is, all of him, and he's lucky, you know? That he's all separated out like that, personality-wise. You got the young one, who's kind as it gets, and the older one, who's smart -- and you got the one we don't like to think's a part of anybody, or ever could be. He don't got a choice in it, though. Because that's who he is, and that's all he is."

She lets out a quick breath. "I had a choice in it. Only I didn't, because I did what I had to."

"I just don't know if I did right."

River knows nightmare's a part of people. Of everybody.

She had good teachers for that lesson.

"Yes," she says softly.

"Said it. What you have to."

"Did the job."

She's nodding. "I know." Low. "I'm just -- no way I can see to get past this, except time, and every time it looks like we're startin', somethin' new comes into it. And I can carry it, it's just -- "

Another quick sigh. She slices a half into quarters.

"Bein' his -- that's never been hard before. Never felt anything but blessed by it. But when it counted, with this -- " A brief sad smile. Very brief. "You can't play a player, and I guess what it comes down to is I should've known not to try to use his protection to protect against him."

"Can't," River says.

And then looks away, face slackening in confusion; it's a moment before she looks back and says, head lifting slightly, "Gonna be all right."

"Shi a." Soft, as she cuts the quarters one more time. "Always is."

"I know it."

This is a lie.

But she manages a tiny, half-sad smile with it.

"Know somethin' else?"

There isn't visible effort behind her attempt to change the subject. Behind her smile, either.

"You still got a tangelo."

That makes her smile grow a little. Firm a little more.

To her hands, "With seeds."

"Always a pain tryin' to get 'em out." Kaylee shakes her head a little. "Tell you what -- folk who say spittin' is unladylike never had anything orange-shaped."

"It's a sphere. Approximated in the broader sense.

"Well, so're the seeds if you want to get technical," Kaylee points out reasonably.

River disagrees.

Kaylee will survive somehow.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only