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

"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