faderift | ( closed ) millions and billions and trillions of stars, but I’m down here low

WHO: Herian & Cosima
WHAT: dealing with some bad emotional times
WHEN: post-Anderfels
WHERE: Cosima's quarters, Kirkwall
NOTES: Heads up for discussion of Tranquility, possibly reference to bad stuff that went down in the Anderfels. I'll do a catch-all for more aftermath and general Herian stuff early next month, feel free to prod at me if you'd like something in that and I'll make it happen :]b

The Commander has taken her crystal, so she is not able to grant Cosima much warning of her arrival, save for the heavy fall of her fast against the door. Perhaps Coupe will have contacted Cosima herself, she knows not, and truthfully it is not a thought that occurs to her in any capacity beyond fleeting. As they departed the Anderfels many things have tumbled through her mind, and the closer they drew to Kirkwall, the more consuming Cosima became as an entity. The need to ensure she is alright, that what she saw in the Fade truly was a lie, and then the painful realisation of what she needs to tell her.

Too quick to have allowed a chance for Cosima to respond, she knocks again. "Cosima," she calls through the door, but her voice sounds rough and tired, and she is bracing both of her hands against the stone framing the door, using it to hold herself up.

Her heart doesn't feel like it's layered over the way it had in the Fade, but it is still beating too fast and too slow in turns and feels like it is trying to claw through her ribs.

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Cosima meets Herian's eyes, the two of them only a breath apart. This close, it is impossible to miss that Cosima's eyes are bright with tears.

"Don't. I know I don't have the right to ask it, but please don't leave me like this."

She wants to talk about how there are other ways for Herian to set down her burdens, to ask about penance that might be less permanent or less extreme. There are so many reasonable, calm things to say in this moment, but Cosima is overwhelmed and none of them can make it out of her mouth ahead of her quiet, rough plea for Herian not to go.

There are words needing saying. There are always words needing saying that she fails to speak, it seems. Cosima should know that she does have the right, that what she has to say matters, and yet the words don't find their way.

Instead, she makes a quiet, soothing sound - as soothing as she can manage, when it feels like her own voice is in danger of cracking with the strain of this. One hand cradles Cosima's jaw as the opposite thumb brushes over her cheekbone to smooth away one of the tears. I don't want to leave you feels like such an unhelpful things to say, when it gives no assurances that the departure will not happen, while declaring I won't leave you is a dangerous promise to make.

I can't leave you might be the closest thing to the truth, somehow. I love you would be true no matter which of the others she said.

None of them are said in the scant moments between Cosima pleading, and Herian kissing Cosima with the same fragile desperation that veined Cosima's voice.

Cosima kisses her back, all too aware that this isn't an answer; it isn't even any real assurance of a decision, or the lack of one. She thinks fleetingly of their first kiss, and how it had been laced with the melancholy of Herian's departure then, too, with no assurance that they would ever see one another again.

It feels strange that the risk of losing Herian should so blindside her now, when she hadn't even registered how much she'd come to rely on her. Herian became a steady point to navigate by in a world that often still makes little sense, sometime when Cosima hadn't noticed.

"We can find another way," she murmurs against Herian's jaw, punctuating it with another kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Please."

It's unfair. It hurts so much and it's so unfair, all this. To have someone that she adores so much, who is pleading with her to stay, when it feels like the only way to keep that person safe is to take away all the parts of herself that make her her.

Her arms wrap tighter around Cosima, a gesture that would pull her closer if it were even possible for them to be much closer, pressing kisses to her cheek, her neck.

"I can't risk people— I can't risk you being hurt because of me." Her tone betrays the dilemma, the fact that doing this would hurt Cosima and she knows that, grasps it, and doesn't know which way to turn. "Better I destroy myself first."

"I'm gonna get hurt," Cosima says, point-blank. "You can't make that the measuring stick, Herian, that's not fair. People in the world get hurt, you can't stop that. You leaving would hurt me. You staying but then getting hurt or killed on a mission would hurt me, but I'm not going to ask you not to fight for a better future just because of that risk. I know I'm not a knight or a mage, but we live in a dangerous world and you can't..."

Her fingertips press into Herian's shoulder blades, tight. "If we need to get you some help, if there's precautions we need to take, let's talk about that. But you haven't said anything that makes me think your tranquility will actually make me safer. Or anyone else, for that matter. Maybe Coupe feels guilty, or maybe she wants to do better this time for a reason, you know?"

A quiet, unhappy sound escapes her throat, and she hates how pathetic and painful it sounds.

It's the braver course, to carry on, and so wearying to think of, to keep moving one foot before the other. Her breathing is laboured, as though she'd run some great distance, and truthfully, she feels that same rush of adrenaline and shakiness that comes with exertion. The silence lasts a long time, once again, her breaths feel too loud, and she kisses the corner of Cosima's mouth, just maintaining that contact and keeping her eyes closed.

"Alright."

Her voice doesn't feel like her own, sounds as though it comes from a great distance. It must be too indulgent, it can't be right, and she—

"We can—" No, she can't make this Cosima's responsibility, and her voice wavers as she swallows, throat dry. "I'll look for another way."

"Let me help," she says, still urgently if quiet. "Or at least... if I can't help, don't feel like you have to shield me from what's going on with you. Even if it hurts. If it's ugly. I don't want you to be in this alone when I'm on your side and I'm right here."

She's been so careful not to push against Herian's boundaries, but maybe she's been too careful. Maybe Herian needs a bit of a push, if it's come to this.

Resting her forehead against Cosima's, Herian keeps her eyes shut, and exhales shakily. I don't want to hurt you echoes in her again, but Cosima's already set against that.

Part of her wonders, wretchedly, if she should push Cosima away. Claim she doesn't want her by her side, that she shouldn't be right here. Hurt her now with a lie to better keep her safe in the long run. (Honesty, a voice reminds her, a reverberation in her mind.) Lying to Cosima would not be honourable, but is endangering her any better? Is hurting her?

"I want you to." Help her, despite all the dangers, which is terrible all on its own. "But I will not— I am afraid that the reality will appall you. And I want you to promise that you know you are not bound to help me if you if it becomes too much." If she becomes too much, truthfully. If she already has.

"Then trust me enough to make that call, alright? I'm a big girl, Herian, you didn't trap me." She raises one hand to Herian's cheek, lightly. "We're literally in a fortress full of backup I can call if I need it, in a worst case scenario. I'm not afraid of you."

For all that it seems, at the moment, Herian is afraid of herself.

Slowly, she exhales a shaky breath, and nods. It's steadying, being so close to Cosima, the contact. The longer she's here with her, the less frantic she is beginning to feel, even if everything still feels uncertain and complicated and, frankly, frightening.

"I trust you." Her voice is rough, scratchy. "I'm— sorry."

Cosima exhales, a little shakily, staying close. "I'm glad you told me now, at least. I wish you'd told me sooner. You don't have to be perfectly strong all the time. Not with me."

Gently, her fingers curl through the ends of Cosima’s hair, twisting it around her fingers. Her other arm hugs Cosima close, though she hardly needs to urge Cosima to stay near her. It’s more protective.

“I know.” The words come slowly, uncertainly, but she forgets on. “I want to do better.”

Her hand drops so she can wrap that around Cosima as well, hugging her as she speaks against her cheek. “If— I promise you I’ll— I will share my burdens with you, so long as you do the same.”

Inevitably it’ll take some time, practice.

A kiss, albeit fleeting. “Just because you assure me I need not be strong in isolation does not mean you will bear your own troubles as well as mine.”

( closed ) millions and billions and trillions of stars, but I’m down here low

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