#rocket2saturn

"How are you holding up?" Taman wondered.

"I am fine, thank you."

"Mhm." Without warning, Taman prodded her arm, in a spot where a bruise had surely formed, but she hadn't had the energy to examine the extent of her injuries if they weren't life-threatening.

Cassandra winced. "The gentle touch of the Inquisitor will be long regaled, I'm sure."

"The inhuman resilience of the warrior won't be regaled at all if she doesn't give herself a break once in awhile," said Taman, before she took another swig from her mystery flask.

"You are one to talk," Cassandra retorted.

"That's why you keep me around, isn't it?" Taman offered her a lopsided smile. "You've got me, and I've got...I don't know.  Everyone we dragged into this does err on the side of workaholic, I guess.  But I'm trying, anyway.  For your sake."

Cassandra dared a sideways glance at her face, barely illuminated by the fire.  She was smiling at Cassandra, looking almost hopeful despite the obvious exhaustion.  

Cassandra felt her lips twitch.  "Your concern is touching," she said drily.

But Taman took it as the reluctant concession it was.  Her smile widened, and she wrapped an arm about Cassandra's shoulders.  Cassandra startled--it was strange, to feel the strength in it and know that the gesture was not hostile.  It had been a long time since anyone so powerful had touched her so gently.

From somewhere inside the tavern there came a piercing cackle.  Taman chuckled softly, and Cassandra felt it resonate against her cheek. "Bet Sera still dreams about the time you laid one on her."

Cassandra made a noise of disapproval.  "Perhaps you are projecting," she retorted.

"Oh, I'm definitely projecting," said Taman pleasantly.  "I think I've made it more than clear that I'd drop everything and come running if you changed your mind."

Cassandra tensed.  

Taman squeezed her shoulders gently.  "Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"It...isn't that."

Taman inclined her head to look at Cassandra, silent, waiting.

"I..."  

She was suddenly overcome by visions of Taman in the warm light of the tavern, watching her, wanting her so casually, as though it were obvious, as though it were nothing, when the feeling tore Cassandra apart.  She was the one pressing on old bruises now, each memory a dull ache, an unpleasant twinge of all the times Cassandra had let life pass her by under the guise of devotion to her duty.

"How about this?" Taman offered at last, quietly, just shy of Cassandra's ear.  "You don't have to say anything.  We can just...pretend nothing was ever said."

Cassandra looked up, suddenly, seized by a strange kind of warmth, and her hand strayed to the strong set of Taman's jawline.  She kissed her, before she could think better of it, quick and daring and forceful, and then she pulled away, and she waited for a reaction.

She knows that she and Aurora don’t process things in the same ways, and while she might not usually understand what’s happening, she does her level best to be steady and, simply, present, if Aurora needs an anchoring influence.

While I think Aurora (when not in distress herself, a la the entire Prisoner hahaha) would be pretty good at comforting anyone else, seeing Maleficent losing control in such a way would really throw her.  It’s hard to process someone you’ve decided is strong and self-reliant being helpless, and someone as enigmatic and cryptic as Maleficent might be very difficult to reach in such a circumstance.

It takes Aurora many years and a lot of trial and error, but eventually she more or less figures out how to deal with Maleficent when she’s in a Mood.  Where Aurora requires presence, Maleficent requires space.  Where Aurora wants someone to reach out to her and talk to her, Maleficent wants the door left open a crack, the hand loosely extended,  that she may reach out for help when she is ready.

10. Which one stares at the other’s booty like “damn” and how does the other react when catching them

DEFINITELY BOTH OF THEM.  And I think noticing the other doing this would actually elicit kind of a counterintuitive reaction.  I think Aurora would get kind of surprised and awkward and self-conscious (she’s a person who is commodified and dehumanized by means of her legendary beauty), while Maleficent would feel this weird surge of self-confidence like oh shit oh shit she’s checking me out i’m great i am the best there is i must be great because she is checking me out.

Does that make sense?  It was very stream-of-consciousness hahaha

12. What do their dates look like

Maleficent would take Aurora to weird places bc she wants her to see some cool shit and she also likes to show off a lil bit; Aurora would take Maleficent on cheesy outings like picnics and walking around very normal places and stargazing.

18 – answered!

29. Does one have a spot on them where they would melt when the other kisses them there

Maleficent is legit so starved for affection that any sort of human contact would send her reeling, in both good and bad ways.  You know that really intense, overwhelming feeling when you get a hug or something after it’s been a really long time since someone touched you?  (do you shut yourself off from the world like me?)  imagine that but like…a hundred years.

Aurora I think maybe doesn’t know where her sweet spots are.  In all my iterations of her, she’s not very experienced, and her relationship with Phillip isn’t a happy or fulfilling one.  So I think that “oh wow keep doing thAT PLEASE” reaction will come as a complete surprise to her.

32. Which one is better at cooking than the other and makes most the dinners

“Hey...” says Vetra beside her, low and quiet, barely louder than the wind.  “Is this real?”

“Yeah,” Ryder manages, still breathless.  “I think the sky’s real.”

“No, I mean, this...how you are towards me.  It’s like you...care.  More than a friend.”

Vetra’s hand closes the space between them, moves through the rock and dirt and atmosphere to graze Ryder’s gloved hand with hers, and Ryder feels dizzy.  She thinks if she weren’t lying down already she might have passed out.  The words make sense, but they’re hard to process, and Vetra is still talking.

“..don’t mind if it’s no, I just wanna be sure.  Gets messy otherwise.”

Ryder turns her head to look at Vetra, still barely hearing, barely comprehending.  She’s never been shy in matters of the heart, but she’s always stumbling all over herself, throwing herself full force at anyone who strikes her fancy and more than a little surprised if anyone catches her.

And Vetra is so thoughtful, so cautious, so deliberate in all she does.  It’s weird when she seems completely blindsided by the idea that someone could want her.  What’s not to want?  It’s like Ryder has been throwing herself in that particular direction repeatedly and hitting a solid brick wall.

And still, like an idiot, she picks herself up and throws again, because maybe, possibly, someday...

Ryder laces her fingers through Vetra’s...two...talon things, as usual about a thousand percent sure she has no idea what she’s doing.  “I do.  Care.  More than a friend,” she manages, but her focus has returned to the sky, not sure she’s ready to face Vetra directly.  Still steeling her courage.

“Really?  Huh.  Didn’t want to assume.  It seemed so unlikely.”

Ryder props herself up and looks down at Vetra.  It’s a funny thing, looking down at her--not a vantage point she can expect very much of.  Vetra’s eyes are closed, and Ryder leans in to kiss her almost without thinking.  But then Vetra opens her eyes and starts to say something else at the same time, and it’s “Ryder, I--oh! Uh.”

“Sorry!  Sorry.  I was..” Ryder rubs the back of her neck, offers a sheepish grin.  “Sorry.”

Vetra studies her.  At first Ryder found her face very hard to read, but now she can see all kinds of things there.  A narrowing of the eyes--the studying, the searching.  A slight angle of the jaw, furrowing of the brow, the Turian version of a subtle smile.  Vetra is...smiling, but still unsure.

Ryder shakes her head, leans down, and manages a much more successful kiss this time.  It’s...weird, and new, and it feels nothing like any kiss Ryder has ever experienced in her life up until this point, to be sure.

But the templar who had spotted her was not so easily thwarted.  She could hear the heavy pounding of his boots a short distance behind them, rounding the same obscure corner.

Bethany was not her sister.  She took no pleasure in slumming around in dangerous places.  She didn’t know the dark corners of Kirkwall like the back of her hand, didn’t know whom she could trust to shield her outside of the circle of friends who were mostly loyal to Marian, and was not so reckless as to throw herself to the mercy of any stranger with a kindly face.

And Marian, who had kept her safe all the days of her life, wasn’t around now.  Wouldn’t be around for some time yet, if she ever...but Bethany mustn’t think of that.  She wasn’t here now, and Bethany was having a hard time filling her shoes.  All she had to rely on just now was Isabela.

Isabela led her into another abrupt turn while easily untying the sash around her waist and releasing her hair from its kerchief.  She led Bethany through a small crowd of people, and then into another little alcove, where she promptly threw her waist sash over Bethany’s hair, pushed her up against the wall, and kissed her.

And oh, it wasn’t just any old kiss.  Isabela put her whole body into it, and Bethany felt her head spinning.  Isabela’s lips were so soft, and she kissed with such...certainty, such confidence that Bethany felt weak in the knees.  If Isabela’s body weren’t pressed up against hers so completely, she thought she might sink to her knees.

Bethany’s hands found their way to Isabela’s hips, rested there in perfect opposition to Isabela--uncertain, hesitant, faltering, trembling.  She couldn’t even begin to process this.  She could only hope it wouldn’t be over too soon.  She could only hope it wouldn’t be over forever.

The heavy templar footfalls paused among the crowd.  The voice that had called out to her said in their direction, “Ugh.  Refu scum.”  And then the boots departed, and Isabela pulled away, leaving Bethany breathless.

“Sorry about that, sweetness,” Isabela whispered, low and sultry.  “Well, I’m not that sorry.”

Bethany swallowed hard. She couldn’t quite bring herself to open her eyes completely, and settled her field of vision on Isabela’s lips.  “Good,” she whispered back.  “Because I’m not sorry at all.”

The corners of Isabela’s lips quirked upward.  “Well then,” she said.  “I’d like to kiss you again, but I hope the lack of imminent danger doesn’t dull the excitement for you.”