OOM: Tobias' Entrance
Despite what she'd said, they don't exchange a single word in the air. That they're in it is enough, together is more, is everything. There's no need to ruin it - the dream, the hallucination - with anything resembling reality.
Which is all Milliways does, anyway. Resemble reality ( Read more... )
Which is all Milliways does, anyway. Resemble reality ( Read more... )
Two hours and he didn't have a single thought. He's no closer to processing any of this than when they took off.
And the truth is that he's in no hurry to do so.
Because it's when you think about hallucinations that they stop seeming so real. And he doesn't want that to happen. Not now. Not with this.
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She could stay with him all day. Spend the whole day morphing over and over again, flying with him. There's no need to eat, after all, and she won't have to worry about the cold if she's in morph.
Rachel looks up at him and feels the ice on the tiles burn her feet.
They haven't said a word.
Hallucination. Dream.
But real enough.
She opens the balcony doors wide and steps inside, out of his way. There's enough furniture to choose from for a perch - couch, chair, bar stools or the countertop itself.
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Talking... well...
Still. It's Rachel. He can't bring himself to just fly off when she's right there.
So he circles, allowing himself to glide smoothly through the open doors. His wings flare and he lands awkwardly on the nearest available piece of furniture: the couch.
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Priorities.
It's odd, though. Turning to see Tobias perched on the couch of her bland little-- well, almost an apartment, really. one of those nice two-room-with-a-kitchen hotel rooms. Strange to see him in Milliways.
Maybe she'd been living in a sort of dream herself these past months. This makes it seem more real.
Rachel shivers and holds up a hand, motioning for him to wait while she hurries into the bedroom.
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Tobias even takes a cursory look around the room, but... it's just a room. And without Rachel in it, it feels empty and lifeless.
Funny. He's thought that about a lot of things recently.
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She's not long, and comes back out wearing sweatpants, tugging on a sweatshirt. Hesitates for a moment, then walks closer to lean against the chair.
Just a few feet between them.
Somehow, it had been less awkward in the air.
"I don't think you're hallucinating," Rachel says quietly.
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He didn't sound angry or upset, merely... tired. There wasn't an argument to be had here. He'd watched her die.
What else could she be?
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There's no point denying what they both know.
"I showed up here. Those people downstairs..."
She struggles for words with him the same way she struggles when anyone asks her where she came from, what she did. What she can do.
How to make them understand? How to make him?
"Those people are real. I think they are. And I still feel things. I don't feel dead."
Technicalities aside.
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When you don't have expressions to go by, tones of voice become very telling.
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But... saying so would help him remind himself, and some small part of him was reluctant to simply embrace it.
Even if it was so much better than reality.
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So he won't see her soften.
"You can think you're crazy if you want to," she says quietly, circling the chair so she can sink down into it. "I can understand that. And it's not like I can prove I'm real. Or if this place is. Or any of the people downstairs. Or the last two months."
She hesitates, fingers picking at the arm of the chair.
"I really don't care if it is or not. I'm here, or I think I am, and you're here, or I think you are. I have to deal with Milliways.
"I want to see you, though."
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Then, mindvoice barely a whisper, he answers.
Because whatever the circumstances, he has her back.
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But even she cant hide her smile, bowed head or not.
"You can sleep here," she murmurs, very soft. He can hear her, she knows. "Or in the woods, if you want, but it's cold. I'll find something better than the couch."
Which his talons are currently shredding.
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He doesn't apologize, though.
It's a question and answer rolled into one.
If she is, he is.
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She does sleep. She still needs to.
And she's not worried about the couch, other than knowing it makes a crappy perch.
"Okay."
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