🤸✨

Despite his outward veneer of calm, he’s ravished by anxiety; the same anxiety that haunts him throughout any high-stakes gamble. He’s intimately familiar with this hypersensitive state. Everything becomes heightened, from his senses to his emotions. The click of a revolver loaded with one round, the spin of a roulette wheel crawling to a stop. In each instance, he secretly dreads the worst, a final laugh for the universe to have at his expense. 

The end of his uncanny luck would make for quite the knee-slapper, he reckons. 

Well, he always told himself, it hasn’t happened yet. 

That final word echoes like the screams of a soul mistakenly sealed inside their tomb.

Aventurine shakes his head, his lips twisting into a sardonic smile. Why is he prolonging his torture when he possesses the means to end it? The master keycard obtained by the building’s landlord glides between his fingers. The ease with which it was relinquished proves the IPC’s reputation demands universal respect, even on a planet like Yiivern. This planet is one of the precious few using a currency other than credits. However, this illusion of independence relies on the IPC’s indifference. If the corporation ever wanted something from Yiivern, they’d bend the knee, as thousands had before them.

This unspoken acknowledgment guaranteed they’d turn a blind eye to his endeavors. 

He raises the card. It hovers mere inches from the door’s terminal, where, ostensibly, he’d be granted easy access. 

Instead, an inexplicable urge to investigate further freezes him in place. 

It’s faint. So imperceptible, that even the most keen eye would struggle to notice. A light flicker distorts the terminal’s rightmost edge. It could be a trick of the light, or his visual cortex misinterpreting stimuli, but the discovery instills caution. There’s too much on the line here. He pulls away and hums, contemplating. Upon further inspection, he identifies the anomaly as a dead pixel. The level of depth around the terminal rules out the use of a screen. No monitor could portray three dimensions with this degree of accuracy.

A hologram, then? 

In his experience, holograms are a multipurpose tool. Cosmetics, backdrops, advertisements with embellished products; though the specifics differ, the main intent doesn’t. 

Holograms hide what another wishes to remain unseen. 

He taps the end piece of his glasses, activating a scan. 

His lenses go from displaying what the naked eye sees to depicting wavelengths outside the visible light spectrum. Sure enough, there’s a thin sheen atop the terminal, denoting an active hologram. Beneath this sheen sits a simple biometric lock. If he had to guess, anyone who tried accessing the apartment via the terminal would trigger an alarm. Whoever set up this contraption could then have adequate time to flee or confront the intruder. 

Fondness flutters about like butterflies in his stomach. 

That’s my girl, he thinks, positively smitten. You wouldn’t make it easy, would you?

Fortunately for him, he’s not one to play nice either. 

The newly revealed lock is an easy fix. A rectangular device inside his coat recreates your fingerprint and iris, applying the falsehoods to immediate success. 

The door obediently sweeps aside. 

Aventurine conducts a quick sweep for any other surprises you might’ve hidden. He isn’t disappointed — red warnings accompanied by the software’s disabling procedure rush before him. Among the list of disabled products, most malicious, he spots a random cosmetic hologram. As nothing’s visibly changed in the living quarters, he assumes it must’ve been on in the bedroom. 

What a paranoid thing you are, he muses. For good reason, I guess. 

Content in knowing no silenced bullet will be piercing through his skull anytime soon, he turns the program off. 

Aventurine examines the little home you’ve made for yourself. It’s a one-bedroom one-bathroom apartment, just as the reports claimed. It doesn’t feel very lived in. The walls are a sterile silver, devoid of any pictures or personal memorabilia. Curtains cover a window overlooking Yiivern’s third most populated city. He runs his gloved fingers along your kitchen countertop. Atop the granite sits a coffee machine, a frog mug, and a deactivated cooking companion. He makes a mental note to update the one in your shared starship above Pier Point. It’s been gathering dust in your absence. 

While considering this, he finds an item that steals his breath. 

Baby bottles. 

He lifts one, eyeing it like an alien species. 

So it’s true, he observes, drawing his lips into a thin line. 

His grip tightens and the material warps. 

“...” 

A shaky breath escapes him. 

He’s aware the next few hours won’t be very pleasant for you. And, if finding you dried up the remainder of his luck, they won’t be enjoyable for him either. It all comes down to probability. like most vital instances in his life tend to. Few individuals in this universe weigh probability as often as he does. From the fifty-fifty of a coin toss to the odds of drawing an ace in blackjack, it’s a constant, an unhealthy fixation. Certain variables raise or lower the desirable outcome’s entry into reality. While he can’t always make exact calculations on the spot, this was different. He had ample preparation for this decisive moment.

A trusted team, equipped with knowledge ranging from your cycle to the brand of birth control you were on, ran the numbers. 

“One in a million,” a visibly nervous man had reported. “I-If the baby your fiancée was spotted with is indeed hers—” 

Aventurine interrupted him before he’d be subjected to any further sycophancy.

A one in a million chance that the child resting soundly in your room is his. 

Or, alternatively, a far more realistic chance that he’ll have to make some difficult decisions. 

His footsteps remain inaudible as he creeps closer. By disabling your alarms, he’s deprived you of any recourse. Finally, he’ll be putting an end to this. You’ve made a valiant effort — the resources he’d poured into tracking you surpassed the wealth of entire star systems. For months, it’d been a high-risk investment that netted him underwhelming returns. An infinite universe offers infinite places to hide. You were frustratingly clever at playing this to your advantage. 

Ultimately, it wasn’t the massive manhunt or his connections that gave you away. 

It’d been a stroke of luck — pure happenstance. Being at the right place at the right time.

At a VIP exclusive section of a casino, he noticed an opponent’s date wearing a brilliant necklace. The centerpiece was a teardrop-shaped pink diamond. The light refracted by its multiple surfaces had been sharp enough to almost slice through any onlooker’s iris. He mulled over the stone, as if it’d left a strange impression, like when a word’s just on the tip of your tongue.

This sentiment remained a thorn in his side the remainder of the night. Perturbed, he retired to his room, and ran the stone against photos in the IPC’s database. A few minutes later, there was a match. That pink diamond was a fragment taken from a larger stone. He had good reason to find it familiar. This gem served as your engagement ring’s crowning jewel. A gorgeous, one of a kind cut that set him back fifty million credits. 

The implications hit him in waves. 

Your disappearing act couldn’t have been carried out unaided. It required money — lots of money. However, you wisely refrained from accessing his accounts, since it’d give your location away. You hadn’t stolen any valuables either, you left with the clothes on your back and nothing else. Interstellar travel wasn’t cheap. Knowing this, Aventurine was confident you’d be returned to him soon enough. Then the days turned to weeks, which bled into months, finally capping out at almost a year since you’d fled. 

That night, everything finally made sense. You must’ve shattered the gem and pawned it off in pieces, to avoid unwanted attention. This lowered the risk of anyone recognizing the one-of-a-kind ring and alerting him. By selling it in different locations, you’d have enough money to live comfortably. The plan had its merits, although it wasn’t foolproof. If a shard came to his attention, he could follow the trail back to back to you. 

Which is exactly what he did. 

Aventurine approaches your bedside with the same reverence an acolyte holds toward their divine. 

Found you, he thinks. My little escape artist. 

This initial swell in his chest plummets, as a maelstrom of emotions churns his intestines. His shadow engulfs your slumbering form, staining your face in dark hues. Where your breathing is deep and gentle, his is shallow; painfully so. The burns left behind from your scorching rejection have yet to heal. The remaining ash sits heavy on his tongue, turning his mouth dry and scratching his throat. 

Hah! How serene you are! He longs to grab you by the shoulders and shake, demanding your attention, your nonexistent remorse. His hands twitch by his side as he wrestles with his base impulses. You’ve made a madman of him, trimming away his rationality until nothing but withering stems remain. 

You’re beautiful, he muses, his knuckles brushing against your cheek in a soft caress. Beautiful, cruel, and worth every cent. 

Aventurine exhales from his nose, parting from you with visible hesitation. 

It wouldn’t do to rouse you now. 

No, not when there’s a crib to investigate next. 

The crux of his concerns — a noose ready to be secured around his neck. 

One look confirms that the babe dozing within is unquestionably your offspring. What little hair they have is identical to yours in color and texture. Other than that, there isn’t much to go off of. The infant’s features are what anyone would expect. Chubby arms, full cheeks, and little balled-up hands. He frowns. Confirming their lineage will require more. Namely, a DNA sample. 

His heart slams violently against his ribcage as he reaches for the child. 

Ever since he learned of their existence, he languished over this moment. Questions swarmed in his mind. Did you let another man touch you? Place their vile seed inside you? Had you knowingly nurtured a life that never should’ve been? And if so, what would he do? The father was one thing. He’d hunt down the man responsible, see to it that the miscreant’s agony be prolonged by the latest developments in life support. Such was his right. 

The child, however… presented another issue entirely. 

Should it be leveraged for your continued compliance? Shipped off to some private school lightyears away? He wasn’t so callous as to off it, but letting you raise another man’s child was inconceivable. This decision would surely deepen the resentment you harbor toward him. Then, the depths of your loathing would be rendered untraversable. Eventually, he’d drown in the muck and mire. 

Rapid test at the ready, Aventurine braces himself. 

And then he sees two achingly familiar eyes, glazed over with drowsiness. 

Baby blue plunged inside a pool of pink. The colors of a soft sunset contrasted by the ocean, of a people he thought long extinguished. Time flows in a backward current, washing relics from the past ashore. He remembers pain and destitution, but he remembers warmth too. The crooning of his mother, who thought him the paragon of luck. His sister’s kind guidance. Sand dancing in the wind, reflecting the sun like glitter sprinkled from the heavens. A childhood steeped in blood with no rain to wash it away. 

These are the eyes of an Avgin. 

The eyes of his and your child.

The babe deliberates over Aventurine’s sentence. The wariness written over their soft features hints at their encroaching judgment — after all, to them, he’s a stranger. They knit their eyebrows together and inhale sharply, ready to flaunt their vocal chord’s full potential. A foreign parental instinct spurs Aventurine to soothe the many complaints they intend to raise. 

He slides his glasses off and tucks them away. 

In an instant, his child reconsiders their onslaught. They stare up at their father, their doe-like eyes perfectly mirroring his. This faint familiarity must be enough to content them for now. He breathes a sigh of relief. Little hands reach out, demanding he satiate their curiosity. He happily acquiesces, noting his offspring’s innate negotiation abilities with pride. His child latches onto his finger. The leather texture perplexes them at first, but after a few seconds, they accept the cool and smooth surface. 

Aventurine notices an interesting symbol interwoven into the crib’s safety rails. It denotes a hologram company that specializes in cosmetics. He recalls the unknown cosmetic hologram that was deactivated earlier. Curious, he turns it on. A white sheen envelops his child’s iris’ and an adjustable dial appears, a color wheel at the ready. 

He blinks. 

Shaking his head, he turns it off, allowing their eyes to revert to their usual presentation. 

What lengths you’ve gone to! You scrubbed away any hint of his existence, even in the child you created together. From experience, he knows the most effective tools of deceit are the simplest. Parlor tricks, when wielded correctly, outdo their flashier counterparts. All this time, you’ve been learning from the best. 

He smiles thinly. 

Although he’s won this gamble, he can’t picture himself as a father. He’s barely a proper lover — you’d told him as much. Screamed it, to be precise. He accepted your criticism, lied about doing better, and hoped you’d find the act believable enough to keep the pantomime going a while longer. By ignoring the script he dutifully laid out, you’d broken character. He couldn’t blame you, but that doesn’t mean he’ll forgive you. 

He’s a selfish man, asking for a selfless love no one could give, much less you. 

His child writhes about, seemingly as uncertain as he is on what comes next. 

The aftermath of a victorious gamble is like coming down from a high. The adrenaline subsides, his senses relax, and an ennui settles in. The relief (or, occasionally, disappointment) that he gets to live another day leaves him hollow. Winning you over satisfied this hunger, until he lost you. This interim taught him that the individual presenting him as Aventurine is nothing more than a specter.

Kakavasha is dead and the walking corpse he left behind drags you into the afterlife, piece by piece. 

He hears the faint rustling of bedsheets behind him. Sickening anxiety floods his system at the confrontation to come. He’ll be burying any remnants of care you once regarded him with into the soil, where it’ll draw its final, pitiful breath. 

A gasp resounds throughout the room. Before he turns to face you, the sight of his eyes staring back at him inspires a thought. 

I never liked dreaming

Xiao opened his eyes and the light shined in. through the breaks in the leaves and swaying branches, through the passing clouds, and in between the birds that soared without him. he watched as they went with their flock, haloed in gold.

he turned his head to the cliff edge, one leg dangling absently as his hand unfurled to catch a falling petal from a perilously clinging tree. its roots deep and mingled with the falling stone. the color reminded him of the gentle images that had slowly taken over the dark of his mind. the hue that, bit by bit, tore down his torment and replaced it with a warmth he'd left behind eons ago.

you called his name, and he fell to meet you.

Xiao reappeared on the other side of the fog and found you standing there, arms held out and holding a small box. It was tradition. Every year on the same day, the same day Morax first beckoned him into breath, you were there to offer him some mortal trinket. He stopped trying to convince you to let the day go by like any other before it, and all the ones after. You never backed down. Though he never cared much for the item you gave him, he had grown desperately attached to how you looked at him when he opened it.

your smile.

your laugh.

your eyes.

He had seen mortals fall so many times he lost count, each blurred into the next like ripples in a stream. But you floated, drifted, and flourished in his gaze. A testament to what was possible, what humanity could give.

a being haunted by a tainted soul shouldn't be allowed so close.

"What do you want to do next?" you asked him as if the world was in the palm of your hands and, if it were within his power, he'd put it there.

Xiao mulled over the question, pondered on an answer. It didn't matter as long as - he dropped his head and tried to speak clearly. "May I lay on your lap?"

He peered at you with sharp eyes and felt his chest ignite at your expression. Perhaps it was too much of a request - he shouldn't be touching you anyway, it wasn't safe.

You didn't reply with your voice, instead, you sat on the ground, legs bent, and held your hand to him. He breathed and moved to rest against you.

Your warmth seeped into his skin. The back of his neck burned at the contact. Swallowing, he adjusted until the grass below him lay flat until his fingers relaxed against his chest and - only slightly - dug into his clothes.

"Comfortable?" you asked as your fingers brushed his bangs. Gentle, slow strokes that lulled his eyes heavy. He nodded and you continued to trail featherlight fingers across his brow, through his hair. He turned into the familiar. into the safety of you.

His eyes closed and the colors bloomed so brightly the darkness receded until the shape of you remained.

I never liked dreaming.

"Happy birthday, Xiao."

until now,

until it was you

I kept seeing

ratio has been sizing you up for the better part of half an hour, scrutinizing your intent in any way he can. you have been skillfully attempting to dodge most of those attempts, but veritas ratio is as diligent a man as he is intelligent. which is to say that he is not letting up until you divulge the truth.

you sigh.

"you will explain to me," he says outright, gaze piercing. "how one of the intelligentsia guild's most esteemed researchers needs help with an algorithm that is far below both of our skill levels. it's insulting to both myself, and yourself."

you sigh again, deeper and harder, "i, once again, do not have time. i have the 'full time job' of handling aventurine's odds, and those calculations don't run like any other odds i've ever worked with, and he is a variable constantly in motion. i need help making this algorithm so i can have some assistance with my main job at hand."

the doctor scoffs, and walks a circle around you, "i'm sure he's just thrilled with the company."

"we-- he manages."

more than. but, veritas doesn't need to know that. you're sure he'll figure it out eventually.

veritas tagged the briefcase on a nearby table. it's gleaming, with a discreet ipc logo embossed on the side. the sight of it makes you nauseous with anxiety.

"is this bribe from him?" he asks.

"no." you've stopped aventurine anytime he has tried to intervene and make things easier for you. he rarely listens, but your relationship with ratio and the guild make him somewhat neutral territory. "higher up."

"i assume diamond wouldn't bother to dirty her hands. so, jade?"

"yes."

dr. ratio, for the first time, seriously considers your offer. then scowls. "it would be a waste of my time."

you sigh. there was a 67.22% chance of this outcome. luckily, you have gamed out the conversation from here.

"so you can't?"

"you know i can."

then, you laugh, and shake your head. "yes, i do. sorry to tease. i'm quite tired."

"you should go find your gambler." veritas crosses his arms, looking sidelong at the briefcase.

"i will, eventually." you turn your back to veritas as you begin to leave the open atrium. the air is hollow and frigid. "i'll just ask some other intelligentsia guild members about the project first. i'm sure they'd be happy to help."

you only take a few steps before dr. ratio grabs your arm. his grip is far too strong.

(chance of failure to secure dr. veritas ratio's assistance: decreased by 31%.)

"don't bother them."

"someone needs to help." you turn back to look at him, expression schooled. "and if you won't, i'm very sure someone else will be happy to work beside 'one of the intelligentsia guild's most esteemed researchers'. or, does such a title not truly apply considering i've been ousted from my previous position?"

he frowns, but before he can speak, you interrupt him. you haven't seen veritas since being tied down to this position, and you haven't let him have it. he deserves it, maybe.

"i heard from jade that i received a glowing recommendation from another well-respected scholar. apparently, the position was being considered for either one of us. somehow, with that recommendation, i drew the short end of the stick and now play handler for a man with a death wish and a statistically measurable chaos quotient that's ever-changing in the multiples of three."

veritas's face is unmoving. unchanging. but you know you've struck something. it was him, or you in this position. and you don't have the pride he does. you place your hand over top of his, posed to speak, to tear him apart--

a shrill ringtone shatters the tension. it's yours. you already know who it is.

you flip your phone open with one hand, still staring at ratio.

"hello," aventurine's voice beckons from the other side, smug and smooth. "where is my favorite, most brilliant mind hiding out? we're due to leave soon."

"sadly, with another one of your favorite, brilliant minds. i'll be finished up shortly and meet you at the docks."

"aw, did he not get onboard? that's quite the choice for him to be making. do you want me to give him a talking to you?"

"no, it's fine. i'm working something out."

"you sound upset."

"i'm exhausted." you rub at your eyes and break away from veritas with a yawn.

"you can nap on the ship. we have quite the journey."

"that we do. i'll see you in a bit?"

"see you there." you can hear the smirk in his voice.

sending you down to veritas alone was aventurine's gamble. one, that is working out, predictably. never mind the damage your reputation will take after these next moments. you close the phone with a sigh and begin toward the elevator.

"veritas," you call his name. "i forgive you, for what it's worth. try not to do it again."

"i couldn't."

you laugh and shake your head as you ascend. by the time you arrive at the docks, the ipc's premier vessel is packed away and priming it's engines. lights and sirens echo from it. aventurine's idles outside, waiting for you. he beams when he sees you.

"so," he whistles, guiding you with a hand on your lower back. you let him. "was the good doctor as prickly as ever."

"if not more-so" you admit. aventurine gestures with a sweeping hand to your shared quarters for the time being. there's a single bed, but you're used to this. you've come not to mind it. "i think i bruised his ego."

"i think that's impossible."

"want to bet on that?" you ask.

your phone's text tone chimes and you shoot aventurine a sharp smile.

aventurine's odds are ridiculous. ever changing, constantly moving. none of your perceptions and calculations that are steadfast and unmoving can keep up with him. not with efficiency, anyways. it's exhausting work. however, the likelihoods of everything but aventurine? like the predictions of a man like ratio?

easy. simple. you could do them in your sleep.

aventurine squishes against your side as you open your newest message.

[SENDER: Doctor Ratio <intelligentsia guild>]

> here is a first draft. forgo payment. i do not need to be in the stoneheart's pocket.

[file attached: STONE ALGORITHMN DRAFT 1.0.spqxxxiun.pqo]

aventurine laughs, muffling it against the side of your neck. his teeth are sharp and his breath is warm. it settles something in you. you lean into him and deflate, sliding down into your lap so your head is pillows there. a gloved hand cards through your hair.

"you're quite good at the game, when you choose to play." aventurine reminds you. he tells you this often.

"i know." you turn your face into his hand as the ship rumbles. "but it's your job."

aventurine pauses his pets, then thumbs over your lips. he looks sour, only for a moment, before resuming his motions, a bit rougher this time. you relish the feel of it, sinking into it.

"one of us has to, right?"

"right."

"and the other," he taps your lips. your sputter, indignant. "plays support."

"one of us has to." you remind him.

it's silent between the two of you as the ship whirs and bellows, taking off from herta's space station without reverie. onto your next destination, wherever aventurine is deigned to be needed, with you by his side, dutifully.

you press your face into his stomach, letting the smell of linen and his cologne envelope you.

neither of you have a choice to play this game. the cards are stacked, and you best not loose count from aventurine's side. you'll be damned if you do.

(there is a 98.769% chance that you are damned regardless.)

aventurine had assured you initially that you didn't need to keep such a close eye on him. and at first, you'd believed him. he is one of the ten stonehearts, and well-regarded despite the rumors and brand on his neck. it's-- it's not your business anyway. to pry. you trust him.

and truthfully, he does keep a good handle on himself. he gets out of all of his gambles in one-- piece. sort of. he either skirts disaster with no room to spare or he takes on the disaster with his own two hands and grit and fucking wins.

and truthfully, if that was the only thing you had to analyze about aventurine, your job would be quite easy. he's lucky. he wins.

however-- there's just so much more to it than that. factors and variables that aren't affected by aventurine's uniquely good fortune. there always is. but what is and what isn't is hard to suss out. it-- it all constantly changes and hence you have to be in aventurine's shadow and hope that your mind is fast enough to deduce and calculate at the speed that aventurine cuts typical odds down to aventurine odds.

which is to say, that exhaustion follows in your shadow.

aventurine isn't a horrible boss. as much as you're his handler, he's yours. there's a semi-silent, mutual duty you both carry. aventurine makes sure you stay in his shadow, just out of sight and out of danger (so, he can position himself in front of any bullets, stray or otherwise. because they will never hit him.) and you make sure that he does not inadvertently cause a firestorm half a galaxy away.

it works. it's tenuous, most of the time. because aventurine thinks getting close to you is his greatest gamble (one cannot use luck to mend a broken heart). and because you recognize that, for all of your risk analysis and statistical understanding of the universe at large, at some point, you will be in aventurine's wake at the wrong time. and your luck, in conjunction to his endless luck, will run out.

aventurine had assured you initially that you didn't need to keep such a close eye on him. and at first, you'd believed him. he is one of the ten stonehearts, and well-regarded despite the rumors and brand on his neck. it's-- it's not your business anyway. to pry. you trust him.

and truthfully, he does keep a good handle on himself. he gets out of all of his gambles in one-- piece. sort of. he either skirts disaster with no room to spare or he takes on the disaster with his own two hands and grit and fucking wins.

and truthfully, if that was the only thing you had to analyze about aventurine, your job would be quite easy. he's lucky. he wins.

however-- there's just so much more to it than that. factors and variables that aren't affected by aventurine's uniquely good fortune. there always is. but what is and what isn't is hard to suss out. it-- it all constantly changes and hence you have to be in aventurine's shadow and hope that your mind is fast enough to deduce and calculate at the speed that aventurine cuts typical odds down to aventurine odds.

which is to say, that exhaustion follows in your shadow.

aventurine isn't a horrible boss. as much as you're his handler, he's yours. there's a semi-silent, mutual duty you both carry. aventurine makes sure you stay in his shadow, just out of sight and out of danger (so, he can position himself in front of any bullets, stray or otherwise. because they will never hit him.) and you make sure that he does not inadvertently cause a firestorm half a galaxy away.

it works. it's tenuous, most of the time. because aventurine thinks getting close to you is his greatest gamble (one cannot use luck to mend a broken heart). and because you recognize that, for all of your risk analysis and statistical understanding of the universe at large, at some point, you will be in aventurine's wake at the wrong time. and your luck, in conjunction to his endless luck, will run out.