Leif sits in his bunk, back against the wall, a book in hand titled The Flowers We Lived By.
Across from him is Vi, sitting on a green mushroom, one leg tucked under her while the other hangs off the side and swings, just a little too short to touch the ground. She eats a glazed honey gingerly, careful not to make a mess of herself or get any in her fluff. Leif admits only to himself that there's a girlish charm about her right then and there.
The mood is comfortable and lazy.
It was rare that Team Snakemouth got a break and even rarer that they could dawdle about in their home reading and eating. Although the same couldn't be said for Kabbu, who took the opportunity to spend his day with Neolith at the Palace (he had invited them of course, but seemed pleased when they turned him down).
Vi made a noncommittal noise, quiet enough that Leif disregarded it.
"Muze is nice," she said.
Leif paused, "Mhm," he noted the sudden small talk odd, but paid it little mind.
"She's pretty too."
It was atypical for Vi to hold her tongue and he glanced to her just as she finished her glazed honey with a lick of her thumb, staring off into space.
"What was Muse like?"
Her question gave him a start, not just because it was a strange thing to ask unprompted, but because he didn't know how to answer. It's not like he found it unpleasant to talk about his past life, but he couldn't always evoke old memories on the spot. When he saw something that reminded him of the past, he could make a clever anecdote or regale a story, but his memories…Leif's memories were often foggy and it was those reminders that brought them into focus with crystal clarity.
"Is your memory already that bad Vi? We saw her just a few days ago," he feigned concern in a petty attempt to stall.
She clicked her tongue, "You know what I mean!"
That he did.
He sighed, "Muse was…" he closed his eyes, trying to conjure up images, feelings, and sounds of times many moons ago. He thought of the old Ant Kingdom, of Queen Elizant I, his family, his companions, and friends…
"…Strong," he finally said, "No matter what she faced, she never gave up,"
Memories rushed back to him in an instant like a flood and all the feelings—Admiration, loyalty, love—that connected them, "She was usually laid back, but when she lost her temper," he smiled to himself, "Well, we think that even the Wasp King would think twice about fighting her…"
He remembers—A moth smiles at him, she rests her hand against his, pink soft against the harsh red of his own skin, her laughter boisterous and charming, he holds her in his arms—she smells like honeysuckles.
"She always saw the good in other bugs," even in someone like me.
"And unlike me, she was outgoing—she enjoyed the company of other bugs and was always eager to learn about them,"
He trails off for a moment, trying to remember, "…She was bright," like the sun, "And drew everyone in," to bask in her glow.
And just like that, the memories started to fade, returned to the recess of his mind as abstract thoughts to be read later like books in a library…Or data stored on a computer, he supposed. Like those within the old Roach labs.
He opened his eyes and met Vi's, "She sounds pretty cool," she looked at him with an unreadable expression, thoughtful perhaps, and where he usually wouldn't, he found her forbearance disconcerting.
"Are you jealous?" he teased, trying to shake off his own embarrassment, "Don't worry, we think you're pretty okay too."
She gave him an exaggerated grimace and rolled her eyes, "No," she said flatly.
Vi leaned back onto the mushroom, hands behind her and holding her upright. She looked at the floor, feet kicking idly, "I wish I could've met her."
He closed his eyes again, "…Yeah, us too."