it's me, the stranger says, as though it's obvious, but saying it so only makes it obvious. saying it with the amount of pain in her eyes - pain you gave to her, because you didn't say it back to her, you idiot. she loves you and you were too chickenshit to say it back and now - a groan wells up in her throat, pressure in the back of her head, but thankfully no blood dribbles down her nose. 

her throat should be dry and scratchy. she should feel pain, with how croaky her words are, but it's all so far away.

i'm nomi. your nomi.

all of her nightmares chased her to the brink. all of her nightmares brought her back to the surface. ink had bled all over the grey, brutal in technicolor. names of the dead and damned and long, long gone lay on the tip of her tongue. 

you brought them back, would be accusatory. 

you made me remember, would be damning. 

you made me bleed, would break her. 

she smiles a wolfish smile and chapped lips threaten to split. 

"'course y'are, cupcake," she croaks and goes to lift her left arm. it's bulky, almost dead to the world. her gaze slides lazily down to it and she blinks groggily a couple of times, registering the thick gauze wrapped around her. 

"did we get 'em?" she asks slowly.

Naomi Sato

☉

nomi breaks anyway and throws herself over parker's lap. she goes to sit up, but her shoulder feels heavy too, and she vaguely remembers the sensation of getting shot by - her brother/confidant/groomsman/friend - the councilwoman's lapdog. 

hot air comes out of her nose and she gives up the ghost on sitting up. nothing about her body wants to work with her right now. it wants to go back to sleep and forget everything all over again. it wants her to go far, far away so it can heal. 

"fuckin' hate morphine," she mutters. 

she half-closes her eyes, relieved when nomi doesn't tell her that they're dead or some wild shit like that. she couldn't live with herself if she let nomes cross that line. her non-bandaged hand rests on the back of nomi's head, clumsy fingers sifting through the new blue locks. her tongue is thick. 

"you let kallistatus dye your hair?"

Naomi Sato

☉

something doesn't sit right. she blinks blearily, resists the urge to rip the drip out of her arm (because gods, it will hurt, it's going to hurt, she saw her arm fall off, bits and pieces of skin gone and bubbling like lava - ) but she doesn't. she thinks really hard about what is so weird and why it's so weird and then she realizes she said kallistatus' name right and nomi didn't bat an eye.

she didn't mean to. oh. alarm makes her blink down at nomi, but okay, gods, okay, her eyes are still that same ruby red. not all white with black hole pupils. if that were permanent, they'd maybe need to talk.

about, like, permanent sunglasses or something.

but this? a dye job? she can handle that. it's fine. everything's fine. nothing's changed.

i couldn't protect her. 

"yeah, i love it. we're like cotton candy ice cream an' i love cotton candy ice cream." she thumbs nomi's cheek, smiles. "an' i love you."

Naomi Sato

☉

she doesn't feel very dangerous. she doesn't feel very anything right now. defeated, maybe? relieved, certainly. in love, absolutely, but that last one's complicated too. always is. (not that she'd know; she's never fallen for anyone like she has nomi and there's somehow so much here. decades of love.)

"that bitch tries anything again, i'm gonna rip her arm right off," she says with a scowl. 

the morphine keeps on drip-dripping and she swallows thickly. laying low is her jam. she's always been the kind of gal to duck her head down and bang her nose against the grindstone. she doesn't have the heart to say nomi's gonna be the one to make it impossible.

"more excuse to live in that fancy new shindig we're gonna get. hey, don't we sign our shit next week?"

Naomi Sato

☉

there's something so curious about the mind when it's unraveled from the soul. morphine sluices the glue holding the two thirds of her together and it's like she has a third eye on her forehead. she thinks, much like nomi - a house of their own, just like...before.

but she can picture it. freshly fallen snow, boot tracks leading up and away from the front door. crackling of hazelnuts by a fire, a warmth in her arms. promises of tomorrow even though there were days they were terrified it would never come. 

she sighs into nomi, caught in the bits between, thumb tapping away at the morphine drip to ease her closer to that spill of watercolor she's never been able to look at before. 

'i'm sorry,' she murmurs in a tangle, long pink hair draping over parker's bare chest. 'you were right, parker. i should have been more careful.' parker shakes her head. 

she says, "nah, i just gotta get stronger, nomes," but her lips are kind of fumbling the words. she's drifting. she's saying, but she's really whispering as she slips away, "don't worry, hon. gids'll fix me right up again."

Naomi Sato

☉