#harpelynn

"It's a little odd to dream like this," he murmurs, bandages wound and tied around his wrists and ankles like chains, around his neck like a noose, across his eyes as a blindfold. You, for your part, have the thunder rumbling in your ears, the chill of promised rain on your skin. "That isn't to say I mind it," he adds, pressing a light kiss to your cheek that is very slightly dusty. "And that's a secret I'll give you for free, too."

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 You walk in a garden of half-buried tombstones, moss and ivy decorating prettily the cracked stone crosses and reaching angels. The taste of tomb-dust lies heavy on your tongue, choking and bittersweet - even though you are outside, or seemingly outside. It tastes like tears and unspoken words, secrets taken to the grave, and you are fascinated with it. There is a chill in the air, and the leaves on the trees in this alley of graves are turning autumn-brown... He wakes, and the taste seems to linger on his tongue.

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OH MY GOD

“Here–stay still–Alexis!”

Rachis sighs as Alexis goes barreling past; they catch them with the ease of long practice, sweeping them up in a struggling bundle and carrying them back over.

“You need a bath,” they inform the screeching 17-year-old, holding them tightly so there’s no opportunity for escape. “Before the dirt on you starts a new colony and becomes life on its own terms.”

“You’ve gotten yourself hurt again? Dear me.”

“No more than yourself,” Rachis says serenely; they take note of Harpelynn’s various injuries as they bandage themselves up. “Just let me finish up here, and I’ll attend to you.”

“I am lucky,” the detective says, as if to some distant audience, “to have such a caring partner.” He flops into an armchair with a sudden exhale, more tired than he let on at first glance. “Would it be too much to ask that you kiss them better?”

“Of course, my dear,” the bohemian replies, with a smile.