The scents of terraformed earth and sickly sweet smoke; the wood they've burned is alien in every sense of the word and it leaves a taste in her mouth - a scent coating her nostrils and her lungs, pouring over her from the outside in - and it reminds her of death. Nolan's waiting for her by the roller and she wishes he wasn't. Wishes he didn't make it so difficult to hate him. Wishes he would stop looking at her like he's losing her and would give anything and everything to stop it.
She shuts her eyes to the world.
Sukar goes up in boiling steam and smoke.
Pulsing music of the NeedWant, writhing and sensual beats; the Casti music that makes her long for the snaking vocals and drums of Irath tunes. Her skin writhes to think of it and she wants to run into the Badlands and lie out under the hot sun to burn the stink of the city away. Packed like a sardine in a can, struggling for air, struggling to grow in a place which leaves no room for her to breathe.
New weight settles into the seat beside her and she recognizes him by his scent as much as by the scar through his features and the carefully maintained top hat. He smells like dry winds and raw nature. Like home.
When did Nolan stop being what she needed?
"Little Wolf." He greets her, words curling like the smile on his face.
She looks down at her drink and the silence is companionable as he squeezes her shoulder gently.
Acceptance is in his voice and they have already said everything that needs to be said.
Air given for a place to breathe.
His lips are warm beneath hers and this brings tears to her eyes; he will never see them and this destroys her.