[ This time, when he fingers stroke along his arm, there's a visible reaction - thin strands of blue light follow in the wake of her touch, pulsing in time with the glow at his chest. A moment later he's smiling when she agrees. He might be embarrassed to admit he hasn't been on a real date in about a decade. And he never followed the rumors or gossip about her over the years, though he wonders if it hasn't been some time for her, too. ]
I've only seen it during the day.
[ It hadn't been particularly memorable, except for the decrepit state of the boats. But if she thinks it's beautiful, it must be. he's seen enough of her paintings to know.
The smile and warmth carries into his voice while he sets back to finishing the wrapping. ]
We could have a picnic on the dock. [ And now he's teasing: ] Has Mel Medarda ever enjoyed the simple pleasure of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?
[ It's quiet down by the waterfront, where people don't frequent as much anymore with the dying trade. Plus those who do work there are gone before nightfall, back to their families and homes, and it has a decent view of the dying sun - or the moonlight - on the water. It'd been beautiful to see, if melancholy in its own way, one of the nights she couldn't sleep.
Her gaze drifts down, watching that bit of light along the crystal of his arm. Her brow furrows, about to ask, though he's beaten her to the punch with a question of his own. She wrinkles her nose - partially for show - and then quietly laughs. ]
There's a first time for everything.
[ Not just because beggars can't be choosers (and their wallets will cry otherwise), but because it doesn't really matter, does it, when it's more about spending time with Jayce? Not all meals can be 5-star bougie gourmet decadence. ]
It's also likely to be much, much more tolerable than whatever gelatin-based foods they keep serving at these welcome functions when we get new people.
[ He pulls an exaggerated face of disgust at the mention of the... creative use of gelatin Patho-Gen provides, but he's quick to smiling again, finishing up the last of the wrapping and holding her hand up, fingers gently curled around her first digits. ]
How does it feel?
[ Still not too tight? He remembers after the blizzard, when his mother had needed surgery on her hand, the loss of two of her fingers. Jayce had never helped her with the wrappings, it hadn't been until he was a little older that he'd designed the first iteration of her prosthetics.
He has always wanted to do everything for the people he cares about. He's grateful that she lets him, now. ]
[ Tight enough to prevent the feeling of crumpling apart, loose enough that it feels like a sleeve rather than a second-skin. And that's perfectly fine with her - and better than her own efforts, frankly. Mel flexes her hand, flexes her arm a bit, checking to see the fit. It's good. She flashes him a brief smile, and leans over to kiss his cheek. ]
You're very good at this.
[ The wrapping, she means. The diligence. Jayce's attention to detail. Her fingers fall once more to his arm, looking again for the correlation of touch to the light within him, if it's there at all. Her other hand, though, finds his chest - hovering just to one side of where that light was. ]
[ When she praises him like that his smile is warm, some of the worry lines that have been marking his face lately seem to smooth out. He follows the trail of her hand with his gaze - the trails of light reappear, following the line she traces. Beneath her other hand, his chest glows the same.
Jayce closes his eyes, tilting his head to the side - his expression a little sheepish as he works to an explanation: ]
I think so. [ It's not something he can keep track of as easily, when he doesn't always notice it's happening - ] Another kind of... emotional response, I guess.
[ His shift has almost exclusively activated by negative emotions: fear, grief. He opens his eyes, lifting his gaze without lifting his chin - that same sheepish expression stuck on his face. ]
I usually can't feel as much there, the places I've... changed - [ his expression softens again: ] - but I can feel you.
[ The first time she'd seen that light had been in the woods, when he'd carried her from the Katalyth. And every time since then, she realizes, it's been with her - and with Viktor. And it just finally makes sense to her, enough that as her gaze alights on Jayce's, as she takes in the fondness of his gaze...that she can't believe she'd overlooked such an obvious reason.
Her thumb brushes over that light now, over his sternum, and she can't help her smile or the quiet laugh that accompanies it. ]
I'm glad.
[ And I hope that doesn't change.
Mel leans forward to kiss him here, first beside his mouth in the corner, and then another on his lips - the gesture fleeting, whisper-soft, because what she really wants is to coax him back into her arms at last, so she can hold him this time, and make up for the hours and days she's missed having herself wrapped around his warmth.
And even if she can't reclaim those crystalized parts, can't bring back the pieces of flesh that were once his, at least she can try to help him stay connected to who he is and to his heart. ]
[ For the first time since she left, he sleeps well.
They make their way to the Waterfront the next evening. If the locals stare at them on the way, he doesn't notice. There's sandwiches, along with some abominably cheap wine. They sit and watch the water lap against the old wooden docks and derelict boats.
It's beautiful, just like she promised.
Even more beautiful is the way the fading light plays against her skin as they watch the sun slip beneath the horizon.
Some days later, he leaves her a gift - a little copper pin for her traveling pack, the metal carefully shaped into the shape of a sun burst, burnished bright. ]
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no subject
I've only seen it during the day.
[ It hadn't been particularly memorable, except for the decrepit state of the boats. But if she thinks it's beautiful, it must be. he's seen enough of her paintings to know.
The smile and warmth carries into his voice while he sets back to finishing the wrapping. ]
We could have a picnic on the dock. [ And now he's teasing: ] Has Mel Medarda ever enjoyed the simple pleasure of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?
no subject
[ It's quiet down by the waterfront, where people don't frequent as much anymore with the dying trade. Plus those who do work there are gone before nightfall, back to their families and homes, and it has a decent view of the dying sun - or the moonlight - on the water. It'd been beautiful to see, if melancholy in its own way, one of the nights she couldn't sleep.
Her gaze drifts down, watching that bit of light along the crystal of his arm. Her brow furrows, about to ask, though he's beaten her to the punch with a question of his own. She wrinkles her nose - partially for show - and then quietly laughs. ]
There's a first time for everything.
[ Not just because beggars can't be choosers (and their wallets will cry otherwise), but because it doesn't really matter, does it, when it's more about spending time with Jayce? Not all meals can be 5-star bougie gourmet decadence. ]
It's also likely to be much, much more tolerable than whatever gelatin-based foods they keep serving at these welcome functions when we get new people.
[ Those she draws the line at. ]
no subject
[ He pulls an exaggerated face of disgust at the mention of the... creative use of gelatin Patho-Gen provides, but he's quick to smiling again, finishing up the last of the wrapping and holding her hand up, fingers gently curled around her first digits. ]
How does it feel?
[ Still not too tight? He remembers after the blizzard, when his mother had needed surgery on her hand, the loss of two of her fingers. Jayce had never helped her with the wrappings, it hadn't been until he was a little older that he'd designed the first iteration of her prosthetics.
He has always wanted to do everything for the people he cares about. He's grateful that she lets him, now. ]
no subject
[ Tight enough to prevent the feeling of crumpling apart, loose enough that it feels like a sleeve rather than a second-skin. And that's perfectly fine with her - and better than her own efforts, frankly. Mel flexes her hand, flexes her arm a bit, checking to see the fit. It's good. She flashes him a brief smile, and leans over to kiss his cheek. ]
You're very good at this.
[ The wrapping, she means. The diligence. Jayce's attention to detail. Her fingers fall once more to his arm, looking again for the correlation of touch to the light within him, if it's there at all. Her other hand, though, finds his chest - hovering just to one side of where that light was. ]
Is this happening more? This glow?
no subject
Jayce closes his eyes, tilting his head to the side - his expression a little sheepish as he works to an explanation: ]
I think so. [ It's not something he can keep track of as easily, when he doesn't always notice it's happening - ] Another kind of... emotional response, I guess.
[ His shift has almost exclusively activated by negative emotions: fear, grief. He opens his eyes, lifting his gaze without lifting his chin - that same sheepish expression stuck on his face. ]
I usually can't feel as much there, the places I've... changed - [ his expression softens again: ] - but I can feel you.
no subject
Her thumb brushes over that light now, over his sternum, and she can't help her smile or the quiet laugh that accompanies it. ]
I'm glad.
[ And I hope that doesn't change.
Mel leans forward to kiss him here, first beside his mouth in the corner, and then another on his lips - the gesture fleeting, whisper-soft, because what she really wants is to coax him back into her arms at last, so she can hold him this time, and make up for the hours and days she's missed having herself wrapped around his warmth.
And even if she can't reclaim those crystalized parts, can't bring back the pieces of flesh that were once his, at least she can try to help him stay connected to who he is and to his heart. ]
๐
They make their way to the Waterfront the next evening. If the locals stare at them on the way, he doesn't notice. There's sandwiches, along with some abominably cheap wine. They sit and watch the water lap against the old wooden docks and derelict boats.
It's beautiful, just like she promised.
Even more beautiful is the way the fading light plays against her skin as they watch the sun slip beneath the horizon.
Some days later, he leaves her a gift - a little copper pin for her traveling pack, the metal carefully shaped into the shape of a sun burst, burnished bright. ]