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Worm: Babel
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8
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The sounds of chaotic destruction issue forth from Elle's portal, becoming more distant with each passing second, interspersed with the odd 'Tekeli-li!', feral roar, and explosion.
I, on the other hand, am frozen in awed, numb horror. 'I just threw a Shoggoth at the Slaughterhouse 9. In an enclosed space, a facility dedicated to the psychological healing of Parahumans… oh my goodness, that wasn't very thoughtful of me at all!'
In the future, especially when I deploy the promised Shoggoth for construction/waste disposal purposes at the Dockworker's headquarters, I shall have to take every possible precaution against the rather potent capacity for psychic trauma this particular creature can inflict! It is good that I warned Amy and Elle, and Mimi is thankfully unconscious, or they would be as fraught and disturbed as I, due to my close encounter with the Elder Things' slave!
A bone-deep shiver works its way through my body just as Inky moves once more, smooth and silent as silk, to collect the wrapped bundle containing Mannequin's corpse; while I am not very concerned, far from it really, about the Nine's well-being in regards to the Shoggoth's pursuit…
This event has truly crystalized my concerns about the catastrophic amounts of damage my abilities can produce. Goodness gracious, I'll need far more practice and research before trying anything like this ever again!
CLANG!
"Ah!" I jump and cry with fright at the sudden sound of the knight statues, on either side of Elle's gate, swinging their shields together to block the view of the Asylum's now-quite-destroyed interior; the next moment, the archway and knights sink into the floor of the Labyrinth with nary a whisper, vanishing completely from existence.
As Inky drifts over to where the portal was located, scratching silently at the white mosaicked ground with a head-tilt of bemusement, I turn about to inspect my companions with wide-eyes.
Elle is straddling a still-unconscious Mimi's waist, looking at me with the most soulful, understanding expression I've ever witnessed in my life; slightly beyond them, Amy is still rising, freckles standing in stark relief on her pale face, mouth working slightly as she tries to formulate a query or statement, hands shaking as she lowers them from her ears.
Perhaps I should speak with Daddy about purchasing earplugs. Also, therapy for Amy, Elle and myself… or perhaps our respective parents (and whoever in the PRT acts as Elle's guardian) may be persuaded into adopting kittens for us. I have heard kittens help those who have gone through particularly scarring trauma, like car accidents, damaging injuries, and unexpected encounters with mass-murdering psychopaths.
Oh, and it feels as though something is now trapped in my throat, the lump forming at the sight of Amy's wary expression.
Clearing it as best I am able, I speak hoarsely, "Are… you both alright?"
Elle nods slowly, then replies with a small smile, "Thank… you. Taylor."
"Woof," Amy exhales in relief at seeing the gate's absence before touching Mimi on her neck; nodding in curt satisfaction, my dear friend rises slowly and shakily to her feet, clearly trying to get her breathing under control, "God-d-damn, th-that was too clos-s-se!"
Worried on her behalf, I make two shaky steps forward, "Oh!" before crumpling to my knees in mental exhaustion.
My vision swims in a twisted kaleidoscope of white mosaics. A pair of pleasantly soft and warm hands caress my face after a moment of this; like magic, my vision clears, and the return of my sense of balance allows me to view Amy's concerned face.
She looks like an angel. I chuckle wetly at the mildly delirious thought.
"Yeesh, Taylor," Amy states, moving to put my left arm over her shoulder so she might help me stand, "What the heck did you just do? Last I checked," she continues, in the tone of a mother hen, without pause as she helps me over to Elle, who is now gazing at me concernedly even as she rubs Mimi's stomach, as though to confirm her red-headed friend's continuing presence, "you didn't have such high cortisol levels; that, and whatever you did partially ruptured your eardrums! Your larynx has a Brute rating, not the rest of you!"
"'M sorry," I mumble and slur as she sets me down once more, next to Mimi, "C-couldn't… think of anyt'in' else tha'… would'a stopped them," I make a wretched sniff against the feelings of self-disappointment and shame that war in my heart at Amy's words.
"Oh, damn. Taylor, I'm not mad," assures Amy, voice soft, and then she hugs me, pressing the side of my head into her ever-so soft chest, "Just… please, take care of yourself. When… w-when the Siberian appeared…" her voice fails her, and she buries her face in my hair, whispering in a caring tone, "I don't want to lose my only friend."
I return the hug fiercely, wishing that I did not feel so horrible so I might assuage my dear Amy. Instead, I simply tighten my hold on her waist and listen to the sound of her continuing heartbeat, and try not to break down crying. We stay like this for a while: Amy holding me, my clinging to her, Mimi murmuring in her sleep, and Elle humming an odd tune to herself as she picks at stray threads on the bottom hem of Mimi's shirt.
The tender moment is broken by the sound of a snarling, furious beast, making both myself and Amy jump and squeak in fright. "What was that?!" Amy demands, head swiveling about just as much as mine, searching for the source of this sound most terrible.
Elle clears her throat sheepishly, drawing our attention; around a small smile, she pats her stomach, "Sorry. I'm, uh, pretty hungry. The Nine… they attacked before lunch," her face twists in a grimace, "Not that it would've… been really filling."
This statement is enough to kick Amy's mind into gear, as she nods and starts speaking quickly, "Oh! Yeah, neither of you have been getting the right amount of calorie intake for your ages, and all we have on us are salty snacks and a couple pre-packaged muffins… damn, and I've got to do more work on Bur –Mimi, sorry Elle – I have to finish getting Mimi back to her former weight, too," she sighs and looks between Elle and I at our confused expressions while elucidating, "With the amount of blood she's lost and how deep that gash on her chest was, plus all the other injuries she got from the Nine, I had to shift some of her body fat around, and I really don't want the mentally unstable pyrokinetic Shaker/Blaster to wake up to smaller boobs. No offense, Elle," Amy adds at the end with a light wince.
I nod to convey my understanding of Amy's statements, as my throat is still sore enough to make the thought of speaking unconscionable; I may not have much in the way of breasts, they are more mildly muscular pectorals than anything resembling the hallmarks of blossoming womanhood, but if I did I don't believe I'd much appreciate them disappearing suddenly.
Elle stares at Amy for a long moment following this admission, then slowly looks at Mimi's chest.
The shadows at the edges of my Labyrinth's walls undulate and ripple, the sound of scraping metal brushing against my ears; next to me, Amy shivers as Elle herself turns her gaze slowly back to the world-renowned healer.
There is no sign of amusement there, in Labyrinth's piercing stare, but there is little anger either, "Fix… it."
Given that she is obviously a very powerful Parahuman, I deduce that her lack of intense ire is a very good thing indeed.
To Amy, I ask conversationally, "Is there anything you will require, Amy dear?"
My question causes Amy's pale complexion to take on a splotchy hue, as though her face doesn't know whether it wants to blush or not, but she manages an answer readily enough, "Uh… um… yeah, a couple jars of peanut butter should do. Three or four, if I'm being realistic."
"Good," Elle deadpans, not turning her gaze from us, but at least the shadows have stilled, "I liked my Mimi the way she was, and I don't want her angry with you."
I blush again. Yes, Elle and Mimi are very likely more than simple friends.
More to the point, I draw myself up and ask Amy lightly, "Do we have any more tea?" at her nod, I implore, "Pour me a cup, Amy dear. I'll need it to bring us all home."
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{/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\}
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Returning home is as easy as leaving, except this time I am bringing guests; ordinarily, such an event, entertaining this many unexpected guests, would result in my anxiety crashing through the roof as it attempts to escape Earth's gravitational pull and place itself in geostationary orbit (I may not be able to perform complex mathematics, but the underlying theories are easy enough to comprehend, so long as there are few equations involved).
The events of today, however, have proven to be anything but ordinary. My largest concern at the moment isn't even Inky's presence at the far corner of our backyard, covering the bundle of Mannequin with his body and lounging there, nor is it the two Shakers I have all-but abducted (for their own safety, of course!) from a government facility, or that I shall have to prepare everyone a filling meal once we are settled, as befits my desire to be the perfect host. A frozen pizza, some Texas toast, and a few glasses of lemonade should sate our collective hunger nicely!
No, the greatest trouble at the moment is far and away more mundane: getting Mimi through the backdoor without waking her up.
While I am, to brag, rather physically fit due to my ballet and, by association, acrobatic devotions, and Amy is no slouch when it comes to fitness, Biology savant and coming from a family of dedicated heroes as she has, Elle's power troubles drive the poor girl to distraction, which makes her current mission extremely difficult.
"The rock on the left, Elle. No, no! Your left," I insist exasperatedly from where I am holding Mimi's shoulders, Amy getting more and more visibly frustrated in her holding of the redhead's knees as Elle, shivering lightly in the late November air, meanders near my backdoor, searching with increasingly visible frustration for the fake rock that hides the backdoor key.
I add comfortable and warm clothes for Elle and Mimi to my list of items that simply must be acquired. Happily, my house is warm… sundresses, and some jeans, should they have to make their leave; they are under the aegis of the PRT after all, and Parahumans of their caliber will no doubt be missed.
"Why don't you just, I dunno, use a word that'll help her focus?" Amy suggests in what could be misconstrued as a biting statement, but is actually just her becoming more strained as time passes.
"I'm not about to do something like that without Elle's consent, Amy, and she's hardly in any state to give such," I reply evenly, resulting in an agreeing groan from my fellow Parahuman, while shifting Mimi slightly so her head doesn't loll too far to either side, patience and strength beginning to run out, "That aside, Inky! Could you – ah, thank you, Inky."
Inky's tail ceases in its meticulous straightening of grass blades (I do not wish to know what that's about), whips across the yard at my request, upturns the appropriate grey rock and delivers the key to a surprised-looking Elle's hands before patting her on the head lightly, much to her giggling pleasure.
"Hurry up already!" Amy demands with a face red from strain and stress, "Before my arms fall off!"
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{/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\}
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Twenty minutes and a good amount of Taylor whirlwinding around making sure everyone was as comfortable as possible, Amy'd just finished up with Burn-Mimi's last healing session, distributing the last of the third peanut butter jar in converted biomass around the redhead's breasts and polishing off some old hairline fractures, when her phone vibrated with the fourth text since returning from the Labyrinth.
With a sigh, Amy picked up her teacup and glanced around the guest room the girls had retreated to: Mimi was lying unconscious on the bed in front of her, now wearing one of Taylor's sundresses, a burgundy offering that provided modest covering while nicely complementing the girl's short, fiery-red hair. Elle had selected it herself, and did both the undressing and dressing herself, as Taylor didn't think such an action would be "proper" for her or Amy to perform.
Amy used the same excuse, even though she wasn't nearly as embarrassed as her ebony-haired crush; she'd seen people in all states of dress, in her time as Panacea. What held her back was the way Elle looked at Mimi.
If the two of them weren't an item, Amy would eat her beret.
Speaking of Elle, the blonde Shaker was now in a lime-green dress of her own, sitting on the floor next to Taylor with a wide, happy smile shining on her lightly-freckled face as her fellow world-walker regaled Labyrinth with tales and pictures of places and creatures most fantastic. Tea for Taylor, lemonade for Elle, with the girl of Amy's affection gesturing at something on a sheet of paper excitedly as the two conversed in hushed whispers.
The sight sent a pang of jealousy through Amy; she didn't completely understand the way Taylor's power worked, beyond that it was her voice that made the magic happen, as the saying went. That Elle could, and that Taylor probably could understand her fellow Shaker in equal measure…
She shoved the jealousy into the black box at the back of her mind, where all the things she didn't want to think about went to die. Taylor wasn't Amy's girlfriend (much as she wished for it, at times), and… well, Elle seemed quite taken with Mimi, so maybe she was reading too far into things again.
Unlocking her phone, Amy read the text from Aunt Sarah, and let out a loud sigh that drew the other (conscious) girl's attention.
The previous texts had been understandably worried, borderline panicked queries into Amy's well-being and location, with Amy assuring Lady Photon that she was safe and sound, oh, and had she mentioned that her best friend was a Parahuman?
It'd taken a reminder of Fleur on the freckled healer's part to keep New Wave from descending en masse on the Hebert household; it irked Amy that everyone in her extended family seemed determined she live as sheltered and padded a life as possible, when, if the mousy-haired girl was being honest with herself, Panacea was easily the strongest member on the team.
Not that any of her family knew that, Vicky excluded.
"Something the matter, Amy?" asked Taylor with honest interest, drawing Amy's attention and derailing her musings. Elle blinked up at her as well, a few of the buds on the rose vines she'd made snake over the walls (no thorns, which Amy took to mean Labyrinth was calm) blooming into multicolored flowers, only some of which were actually roses.
'This is my life now,' thought Amy, taking a fortifying sip of Taylor's excellent tea to order her thoughts, 'Wrangling S-class Shakers and walking through dimensions,' she paused at that thought, 'At least it's not the ER on a Saturday night.'
Waving her phone for emphasis, Amy replied with an apologetic tone, "It's my Aunt Sarah; I had to tell her what we did and where we went, but," she put extra inflection on that 'but' before Taylor had a panic attack, the bespeckled girl's wide eyes widening further a good indicator that her crush's anxiety was approaching the breaking point, "given that the… incident," and wasn't that a gentle way of putting it, "happened in a PRT-managed location, there's nothing New Wave can actually do about it, so my family won't be coming over to give us the third degree."
"Oh," Taylor breathed, eyes moving side-to-side in thought for a moment before she gasped slightly, "But… oh, doesn't that mean we'll have to report to the PRT so they might debrief us on these awful events?" Elle looked back and forth between the two girls, like she watching a tennis match, idly stroking a page depicting a blue forest as she did so.
Amy shook her head and spoke in her most apologetic tone, "Not… exactly. Um, on that topic, Taylor: what do you think of 'Annotator'?" Amy smiled brightly at giving voice to the name she'd come up with for Taylor's cape identity, that she'd already (kicking herself) told Aunt Sarah to give to the Director…
The girl in question tilted her head in confusion, blinking those green eyes of hers, "An editor and assurer of grammatical accuracy? Well, it is a fine word, Amy dear," the brunette's heart fluttered at the last, even though she suspected Taylor used that form of address with more people than just Amy, "but I am unsure how this pertains to a conference with the Parahuman Response Team administration…"
"Your cape name, Taylor!" Amy clarified quietly with a fond smile, "You can't just introduce yourself to the Director with," she slipped into a falsetto voice that made Taylor's face pinch in humored irritation, "Hello, Director Piggot! My name is Taylor Hebert, welcome to my convent! Please wipe your feet, and mind the eldritch taxi-slash-guard dog lurking in the backyard!"
"Okay, okay, yes, Amy, I admit, it is a good idea to have an alias," admitted Taylor exasperatedly, but with a smile on her face, one which was reflected on Amy's; Elle, on the other hand, had covered her mouth with both hands to stifle her uncontrollable giggles, a few of the strange flowers on the wall turning several shades of yellow.
"Ah… wait," oh, so Taylor had caught on, if her paling face was any indication, "When you say, meeting the Director…"
Amy nodded ruefully, waving her phone again, "I asked my Aunt to contact her, so we can get this out of the way without any fuss, or pulling your Dad away from his job. She'll be over in about an hour and a half," and Amy watched Taylor's posture, wondering how she'd take it.
If it came to the worst, Amy was willing to go the whole nine yards in helping her polite and pretty best friend get everything ready, to make up for springing this on her.
But she'd needn't have worried, as Taylor let out a relieved sigh, "Oh, good, I was worried I'd have to rush to prepare a lunch for many guests. I presume she'll be bringing a bodyguard, possibly one… of the Pro…tectorate?" the black-haired girl finished in an adorable but borderline-panicking squeak.
Amy was quick to try and calm her, and did so with a cautious smile and waving hands, "Oh, no! No, if the Director's coming to a cape's house, she'll bring someone else, probably an investigator or, given who we brought home with us, a psychologist, maybe both, and don't worry about the neighbors; Director Piggot might be… a little rough around the edges, personality-wise, but she's good at being discrete," she smiled at Elle and gestured slightly at Bur-Mimi when mentioning the possible shrink showing up to take their measure.
Why was she still getting Mimi's name wrong? She'd healed the girl's face, for crying out loud! There was little, beyond however the redhead acted while awake, that would tie her to the infamous Trigger Event that gave her that terrible name, Burnscar.
'Force of habit, or it's 'cause I'm a cape, maybe…'
"So no more than three people," Amy's well-dressed crush stated, looking at the door to the guest room like something was about to rip through it, and the only thing that'd stand between certain death and survival would be Taylor herself.
That she was reclining on a pillow, legs tucked to one side, and still in that lovely dress of hers, looking absolutely snuggable, Amy doubted anyone who tried forcing their way into this house to harm her, Elle or Mimi would think this polite and well-mannered girl was their worst nightmare made real.
For the first time in a long while, Amy felt… safe. It was hard to judge Elle's expression, but the brunette healer thought the young blonde would agree.
Still, Amy nodded in reply, repeating, "No more than three."
Taylor nodded back, opened her mouth to say something-
And a loud buzzing came from downstairs.
"Oh!" Taylor hopped to her feet and used her hands to smooth her skirts, "The pizza's ready. I'll return shortly, girls!"
"I'll wake Mimi while you're gone," Amy said to Taylor's back; her crush turned and gave her an approving smile before vanishing through the doorway. With a soft sigh, Amy stared at the wall and listened to the quiet sound of Taylor nimbly making her way downstairs.
'I really hope she likes me like I like her…' Amy didn't know what she'd do, if Taylor wasn't interested…
"You're lucky."
Amy's head whipped around to find Elle had silently moved to Mimi's bedside, on the other side of where Amy was sitting, and was now sitting near the pyrokinetic-Shaker's shoulder. Elle wasn't looking at Amy, just lightly stroking Mimi's cheeks, where the cigarette burns had been, with a sad smile on her young face.
Blinking, Amy asked, "What do you mean, I'm lucky?" She didn't feel very lucky; so far, this day had included finding out her best friend and crush had a power that could shake the stars, healing two badly injured and extremely dangerous Asylum patients, and a close encounter with the Slaughterhouse Nine.
Sure, there was the flower, and Inky, and the Labyrinth, but today hadn't gone the way Amy thought it would've at all!
Elle's deep blue eyes rose to meet Amy's… or, the younger girl tried, but her gaze shifted as she spoke: "You're lucky. You… don't have to hide how… you feel, when you look… at Taylor," the sad smile was held as the Shaker 12 slowly looked back to Mimi's face as Amy's heart started pounding loud enough to wake the dead, "The doctors didn't like how close we got… how we…" that sadness vanished, as though Elle was remembering something wonderful, "kept sneaking into each… other's beds at night."
O-oh! Wow, this really was Amy's life now, wasn't it? Gulping back her mild embarrassment, Amy observed, "I… can't imagine that working. Keeping you both apart, that is. I mean, you're you," Amy finished with a pointed gesture and wary smirk, before reaching out and pressing her fingers to Mimi's wrist; everything looked good.
A light giggle left Labyrinth's lips, "Yes. They couldn't keep us apart. It's… quieter, in… my head, when I'm around Mimi. And she doesn't get angry… when I'm with her," she paused, playing with a strand of Mimi's hair, and went on, her smile turning into a flat line by the end, "So… they tried to use us, to… control each other… it didn't go well. Mimi gets angry easily. When one… of the doctors yelled at… me…. she set him on fire."
The blonde teen's lips pursed, unshed tears shining in her eyes, "She burned me, by accident… when I stopped her… I know she didn't mean to, but… she blames herself. I kept… asking, to see her, so… so I could hold my Mimi, help… help her get better… but I didn't see her… until today."
Amy really didn't know what to say to that, but she knew what Taylor would do: be positive to the point where rainbows would spontaneously spawn across the sky.
"Well, it's a good thing we found you then," Amy declared in the strongest voice she could manage after Elle's earnest declaration, "Now you two won't be apart ever again."
The blonde's head turned quickly, and this time her piercing gaze was unerring in its focus, "How do you know?"
Knocking that jealousy she'd felt back into its box, Amy smirked knowingly, "Because Taylor's your friend, too, and no one in the PRT's ever dealt with someone like her," she nodded to herself, self-assured, "If anyone can make them see sense, it's Taylor; she's got a knack for knowing what to say to get people to start acting reasonable, trust me on that."
The Earth Sciences teacher, who'd been fairly annoying and up-himself when she was a freshman, learned that lesson in the first week of having Taylor as a student. And that was just one of the many examples of Taylor's people-fu Amy could recall.
"Your Taylor."
Amy's eyes flashed open wide, and she stared at Labyrinth's knowing smile for a long moment before realizing she was imitating a carp; rallying, she tried to say something in reply, something that made sense, "We-we're just friends, Elle! And, uh, I don't even know if she likes girls-"
"She does," Elle replied quietly, her gaze sliding to look at something on the floor on Amy's left, something only the Shaker 12 could see, "She likes you… I can see it. You're lucky," those sapphire eyes, older and wiser by far than the girl who held them, met Amy's again, "You're free."
Everything in Amy wanted to deny that; she wasn't free. She was "the greatest healer in the world". So much rode on her continuing to help people, but there were just so many problems she needed to fix…
The flower.
Taylor…
With that flower, and a little work on Amy's part… she could create catch-all medicines that would heal anyone of any ailment, wipe out cancer, Alzheimer's and Parkinson's! World hunger, malaria and the flu – Amy's eyes widened suddenly – reforestation! The flower, if she manipulated it slightly, could, over the course of a decade, create aquifers! She could de-desert the Sahara!
Well, provided someone took care of Ash Beast and the African warlords… maybe…
It was then that Amy realized, as she found herself planning a day trip that included Taylor, her, Elle, Mimi, and Eidolon heading to Africa to deal with Ash Beast…
'I'm not alone. I have friends now! I can help people, really help them! I can make a difference… oh Taylor, I…'
That was the one thing Amy felt was holding her back: she couldn't say, or even think, the three words that would show Taylor how she felt, for giving Amy hope, making her believe again.
Groaning, Amy looked down at the bed sheets Mimi was sleeping on and said, more to herself than anything, "What do I do?"
"Show her," Elle's voice made the answer sound obvious, and looking at the young blonde's bemused expression, Amy realized that, to Elle, the answer was obvious.
Show Taylor how she felt?! "H-How do you mean?" Amy stuttered, a few of her nighttime fantasies flickering through her thoughts and turning her face red.
Elle shrugged easily, "I dunno. You know Taylor… better than me. Figure out, and do," she looked down at Mimi while Amy digested that, a kernel of a plan taking root in her thoughts, "Wake my Mimi up now, please."
Shaking herself out of the thoughts concerning Taylor, and how she was going to break the flower plan to her family, Amy steeled her mind and got down to business, "On it… done. She'll wake up in five seconds," and the brunette girl sat back in the armchair she'd claimed for herself, picked up her teacup, and tried with all her might not to think about running like hell away from the stirring pyrokinetic.
It helped that a red-faced Taylor chose that moment to come through the door, carrying two plates on each arm, heavily laden with pizza slices, garlic bread, and tall glasses of lemonade, and a roll of paper towels balancing on her pigtails.
"Amy… help?"
The sight was so silly and adorable Amy couldn't help but laugh lightly; she got up, heart slamming against her ribcage at the thought of what she was about to do, "Silly Taylor…"
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{/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\}
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"…you could've just called my phone, you know," Amy says with a small smile on her face, walking toward me gracefully; I take my eyes off her, for I do not wish to embarrass myself by admiring her swaying hips, and look at the bed.
Mimi is rubbing her eyes sleepily, a jaw-cracking yawn escaping her maw, Elle sitting at her side and looking at the redhead with the most adoring expression I've seen that wasn't on my parent's faces.
Feeling as though I am intruding on a very personal moment, I truthfully answer Amy's question as quietly as possible, "I, ah, didn't wish to disturb you, dear Amy. You were working," she takes the two plates from my left arm and sets them on the low table near the guest TV, an older tube model, much to the relief of my overworked biceps, "and you've already told me, whilst at school, you don't like being distract-"
Amy presses her lips to my cheek. Soft. Warm. A slight wetness. She smells like forest-scented shampoo and minty toothpaste. A chaste show of affection, over as quickly as it happened.
Has my heart stopped?
"You're so thoughtful, Tay. Thanks," smiling brightly, Amy (who just kissed me on the cheek) takes the other two plates from my statue-still arm, before her smirk turns impish, eyes flicking to the top of my no-doubt tomato red head, "Nice hat, by the way."
Blinking, I do my best to cast the embarrassed thoughts aside and formulate a response; I am unsuccessful, only able to make some choking sounds in the wake of Amy's obvious and clear show of affection and thankfulness, which cause her to laugh lightly and shake her head, before retaking her seat at Mimi's bedside.
Yes, thankfulness! She's is thankful I did not distract her, and, as we are dear friends, her kiss upon my cheek (it tingles with the memory of her skin's brief and glorious presence against mine) merely an expression of how closely she treasures our friendship; oh, mayhap this was compounded by our recent troubles, a showing of how much she cares for me, after the horrors at the Asylum. Yes, this must be the reason!
"I don't want to lose my only friend."
Or… oh stars… could… could it be?
Before I can think on this more or react, Mimi's eyes, a light brown/hazel, open and look about wildly, "W-where?! What?" Her orbs lock on Elle, and she cries in relieved worry, "ELLE!"
And the redhead goes from lying in a position of repose to hugging the smaller girl, "Elle, Elle, my Elle! I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry-y!" and suddenly she pulls away, looking like she's trying to get away, "I-I hurt you, Elle! I'm-"
"Mimi…" breathes Elle while I look on with a smile of my own from behind Amy's seat, my fellow Shaker's adoring eyes only for Mimi, a small hand reaching out and taking the surprised and confused girl's cheek, "No more Burnscar. Just my Mimi."
And then Elle kisses her. Mimi's eyes widen in shock, briefly, and flutter in affection at the continuing kiss, the redhead's hands rising to hold her beloved's waist, their kiss deepening with this action, and oh my, should I turn the thermostat down a notch or seven?
Before I can make any decisions that will facilitate my retreat from this tender, private moment, Mimi pulls back, feeling at her face in clear and obvious stupefaction, "W-what? They're… gone?" she blinks, a dim horror reflected behind her eyes, the young woman certainly reliving her last, dreadful moments of consciousness before Inky's rescue.
Then her eyes see me, and widen in terror, "B-Bone-"
"I am not Bonesaw," I manage not to snarl, but it is a near thing; huffing in irritation at the remembrance of the well-spoken but abhorrent little terror, I introduce myself kindly, with a welcoming smile, to Mimi, who flinched slightly in fear at my words, but visibly relaxes as I continue speaking, "My name is Taylor, and this is Amy, who you may know as the world-famous healer Panacea," my dear friend (but that kiss…) waves happily, if a bit shyly, in greeting, "She healed you of the injuries you suffered at that ruffian's hands, when we rescued you and Elle from their clutches. You needn't worry about them pursuing you, as I have dealt with them in a most permanent fashion," I tilt my head up proudly as Mimi looks to a nodding Elle for confirmation, at which point the redhead seems to relax almost completely.
Nevertheless, these girls are homeless at the moment, and I am their host, so the words of hospitality must be spoken, "Never fear, there will be time to discuss what occurred at the Asylum later. For now, welcome to my home! Would you like something to eat?"