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USERNAME: unsafety netzach library of ruina TEXT • AUDIO • VIDEO • ACTION • OVERFLOW

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[yesod overestimates how easy it would be to drive him away from reassurance. familiarity. although this, yesod settled next to him in the space he can make for himself, is not so familiar--

but he likes it, he has to admit to himself. this isn't only good with midnight or kaveh. the more time he spends with them, the more he acknowledges certain facts... the more he's aware of who else those facts apply to, though he hardly expects it would be the same for yesod.]

...hey, Yesod.

[he manages to mumble eventually, still holding on to him.]

If we remember this as a dream-- maybe we'll remember this part. We have to promise we'll talk about it. However crazy it sounds, back in the Library, if we can at least remember saying we'd talk about an impossible-sounding dream we had...

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[ This part, specifically these moments? Maybe Netzach's earnest wish to hold on to something of this place could indeed act as a potential trigger to unlock the rest, if it comes to that.

This part should be memorable enough, even now. No doubt anyone who knows them would think of it as crazy and impossible that they are here, clutching each other as though they expect to fall if they let go, dangling over the maw of some waiting abyss below them. Yesod can track Netzach's breathing by touch; its rhythm presses Netzach's body into his arms where they encircle it. They are alive, and this embrace, a desperate interlocking of limbs, is real.

It isn't unpleasant, aside from the byproduct of that realization joining others to scrape against Yesod's heart, but he reminds himself to leave such notions alone. ]

...Presumably you'll question what I was doing in this impossible dream. Perhaps you'll mention it to Roland, and I would recall it myself.

[ By arranging himself a little higher up than Netzach on his section of the couch, Yesod can let his body curve around Netzach's form slightly, resting his cheek against the top of Netzach's head. ]

What would you like to talk about then?

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I think-- I think it doesn't matter what. We just have to talk about it, and know we all really did go through the same thing.

[and if they talk, maybe they'll remember. they'll think of moments like this: wrapped in each other for the security and the comfort of it. of the ways they managed to grow closer once they were no longer trapped in the library with their work. of how they were here, and alive, and so were all of the others that they met.

he inhales, and he breathes yesod in. solid. present.]

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[ It's tempting to abandon good sense just slightly, presented with the justification of memorable moments. Yesod's hand drifts upward, closer to the back of Netzach's neck, narrowly stopping short of brushing his fingers through Netzach's hair. Whether or not it is in disarray, he would have no reasonable explanation to offer.

It might be distracting, if nothing else, one more impossible memory. Very lightly, Yesod lets his fingertips skim across the change in texture beneath them: fabric, skin, hair. ]

...I'd like that as well, in that case.