Xenotober 2024 06 Screenshot redraw/picnic under an eclipse
a/n: A rough retelling of a very short moment after Elma, Lin, and Cross track down the Lifehold coordinates.
They had always understood each other without words. It had been obvious from the moment they had met, back before they had words in common. He had looked into her eyes and known answers to questions he had never considered. Nothing had changed. Her eyes were enough to make conversation unnecessary, even a distraction. It wasn't just a silent way to communicate while on missions. He could consider the quality of today's blue, electric or spectral or dreaming, and understand things that weren't to be found on heaven or Earth. Or on Mira. He'd blink and return to himself, and then he'd go back for more.
That had been long ago, and she hadn't changed. In a way, neither had he, although all their shared history had been erased in the crash. The few months since he awoke, you could even count the time in weeks, had created a different history, one that had required even more trust in each other. They had felt the wrongness without speaking about it, and had let it slip away because the unspoken connection was just as steady. He didn't really want to ask what he had missed. He respected her decisions and sacrifices, all the more for knowing how much had been achieved while he'd slept.
How could he not? This was the moment that proved it. They were standing in the heart of an alien fortress, light years from where Earth had been, moments away from reclaiming the key to the survival of the human species. It was such a small thing, smaller than a human heart, a data drive that would give them the coordinates to the Lifehold. Together they could awaken all the stranded refugees, and in doing so rescue themselves.
It was within their grasp, but now bitter words of accusation swirled around them. Pointless and consuming. He stepped in to stop the flow. If it broke him, if she decided that he was disposable, so be it. He didn't have the time for it, but for a second he still turned to her and drifted into her gaze. Some thrumming of his mimesome fluid mimicked a heartbeat, measuring enough space to admire the world of possibilities that lived in that beautiful crystalline gaze. She was absolutely fantastic, in every measurable way, and he hoped she understood what his rebellion meant.
Then the muzzle of her gun eclipsed his view as she raised her aim. Or maybe it was emotion that made their bond dim. "You too?"
He'd try to find the words later, something to ask her forgiveness for this moment of treason. Provided she decided not to shoot. Either way, this picnic was coming to an end.
a/n: This Cross might be my Shulk (aka Nagi age 26), and all that passion is strictly out of respect and friendship. Ymmv.
Next up: Might be prompts, might be Frye/Irina