How long it has been since the last, and how long since I did not sleep in the midday sun.



The darkness of simple unconsciousness gave way to gentle light, illuminating slate-laid floors and ochre-toned stucco walls. I noticed a tendril of a young fern crowning from a crack in the floor by the wall. A hallway, one I'd seen before, with additional light sources-- bowl candles, fat or tallow judging from the scent-- sunk into recesses in the wall to illuminate assorted artifacts and bones. I lingered over the skull of a large cat, before I felt (rather than heard) myself being called. A gentle pull with what might have been a voiced or imagined whisper.

I obediently followed, taking entirely unknown corridors to a new room, one all windows and shining redwood floorboards, high gables supporting the ceiling. The attic, turned observatory. A type of open fireplace, more of an indoor fire pit, graced the centre of the room, throwing flickering light throughout the vast expanse of the room. This house must be extraordinary in its size, I thought.

A type of lounge, reminiscent of a therapist's couch and upholstered in a type of hide which my mind uncharacteristically could not identify, faced one of the enormous windows, looking out on the world below. I noticed our height, and could make out the vague shape of treetops, but the night was too dark to see anything else, even with my eyes. The firelight's glare from the glass did little to aid my night vision. The sound of running water sounded below, some form of stream perhaps. Drawing my attention back to the lounge, I noticed soft black hair mingled in with the dark furred hide. A pale-gold hand reached along the back of the lounge, gesturing to me.

I smiled and stood behind the extravagant furniture, taking hold of the hand and indulging my free hand in her hair. Just as soft as I remembered. I heard her gentle chuckle, and melted.

"Don't tell me you have lost your nerve in my absence?" she purred, and I came to stand before her. She lay relaxed (deceptively so), a wineglass holding something too bright-dark to be wine delicately clasped in her hand, her hair spread over her shoulders and the back of the lounge. Her dark-red dress was exquisite, as always, though I smiled at her bare feet, tucked up on the couch like a small child. Her near-black eyes took me in slowly, and I shivered pleasantly under her approving eye. She took a sip from her glass, her eyes never leaving mine, and discreetly licked her lips clean, a light smirk flickering over her face. Now she was taunting me. I grinned in appreciation, made my line of sight moving over her body more obvious, and she laughed.

"That's the one I remember," she said with a wicked smile. She stood fluidly, finishing her glass and grabbing my hair in her hand faster than I could register. Her lips crushed against mine as she casually dashed the empty glass towards the fireplace with a shatter. My mouth opened to hers gladly, and a warm trickle of the blood she had saved in her mouth ran down my throat, burning most pleasantly as it went.

She broke from me, grudgingly, allowing me to breathe (perhaps only just remembering I had to), and I gasped. Her hand caressed my face gently, her thumb brushing an errant drop of blood from where it had escaped the edge of my mouth. She held it to my lips and let me lick it away, grinning when I bit playfully. She groaned, in a way, and put her forehead against mine as her arms went around my waist, "How long has it been, my dear? I tried to come to you time and again, believe that I did."

"I know," I said quietly. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to be so hard to reach." She looked at me with heartbreaking concern, and I couldn't meet her eyes anymore. Too much had happened, and--

"Tell me," she whispered, cutting off my thoughts and brushing a wisp of hair from my face. I glanced at her, and despite knowing she could have known anything and everything from my mind if she so chose, I nodded. She respected the boundaries of my thoughts, though I had never imposed any restrictions, and knew that saying things out loud was harder for me, and so perhaps more beneficial for the pain.

Her arm stayed around me as we sat together on the couch, and I was surprised at how much that comforted me. Her eyes did not blink as I spilled the story of how my life has been since we had last spoken, from Amber to the issue of transgenderism, but they did flash with sadness, understanding, and finally fury. She loosed herself from me, kissing my forehead gently to let me know she was not angry at me, then stood to pace the floor before the fireplace, her eyes sparking with rage as her hands gesticulated in half-formed thoughts. She looked a lot like I did during my own internal rages. I wondered idly which of us had behavior such as this before the other did.

Finally she stopped, hands gripping the edge of the fireplace. She stood with her back to me, her shoulders tense and almost hunched. "How can you live like this?" she whispered, her calm voice betrayed by the sudden groaning sound of bending metal. The brass-looking metal shield had been punctured by her white-knuckled fingers, bent and crumpled like tinfoil. "How can you be allowed to feel like this? How can they..."

Her thought ended mid-sentence as she closed her eyes with a bitter expression. I stood and went to her, taking her hands gently and noticing sadly that the hot metal and errant embers had seared her skin without her noticing in her anger. "Because that's the way it is for me," I said quietly, stroking her charred skin carefully. "It's how my world works." I sighed and whispered her name. I kissed her palms softly. "It'll never stop," I murmured, nearly too quietly to be heard. By anyone but her. I could have meant any number of things, and truly I meant it for everything I had told her. We just had to keep going until we couldn't take any more; that's how it had always been, and the world wouldn't change just for me.

She looked at me sadly. Her anger wasn't entirely dead, nor did I think it would subside for quite some time. "I could--"

"You cannot bend the world for me, love. Not this one," I half-smiled. "The problem is in how people think. Even you cannot change that, much as I know you would try tirelessly. This isn't something we can force."

"Much as it would be therapeutic," she growled sulkily, earning a smile from me. She seemed to come out of her reverie somewhat at that.

I stroked her cheek fondly, though still unused to looking slightly up at her. "I know you'd gladly kill everyone who even looked at me wrong. You're lucky I find it such a touching sentiment."

"Just as it was intended, beloved." Her grin made my heart leap.

She sighed and allowed me to lead her back towards the lounge and the window. She stood behind me for a moment, holding me gently as we stared out into the outside world. "I only wish they could see you as I do," she murmured, shifting one hand to rest against the back of my head. My reflection shifted without me noticing very much. It showed me with a flat chest, hair even shorter than it was cut, a lankier build of body and slightly stronger shoulders. A scruffy, shabby, androgynously elegant thing, all lines and angles, sharp-clawed graceful hands and piercing hooded eyes (that didn't seem quite human), that I both recognised as and couldn't combine as being me. It was beautiful, in its way, and also terrifying on some deep level. Mainly, I just loved her for seeing this handsome thing when she looked at me. I turned in her arms and kissed her, and didn't ever want to stop.

"I will always be able to see you as you really are, even if few others can," she promised, after we'd landed on the lounge.

"I know. Thank you," I said, smiling, though I wished I could think of better words.

Her brow creased, looking up at me with something like pleading, her hand upon my neck. "Let me make it stop hurting, at least. You know that I can take it out. I cannot bear to send you back as things are." She was forgetting her verbal contractions; she was honestly very concerned.

I shook my head with a calming smile. "No, love. I know you don't want to, but you must leave things as they are. It's better for me this way. I'll be alright; I'm not alone back there. Besides," I paused to kiss her again, "you are making it stop hurting."

She smiled, a glint coming into her eyes as she dragged my throat down to her mouth. I bit my lip to silence a groan, and gave myself over to her, taking her offered wrist hungrily and letting every thought be erased by the sensations I found myself drowning in. Very gladly.