Mira seems to have an endless well of energy. I swear that every time I think she must be getting tired or feeling any kind of negative emotion, she just brightens like the sun and starts running off to some new direction. I don't know how she does it.
I don't have the kind of energy she has to keep up with her.
Eventually, when she runs over to what appears to be a falafel stand, I double over, hands on my knees and gasping.
I'd feel bad, and desperately out of shape. but when I turn my head to tell Llywelyn to stop our little emerald before she leaves orbit without us I see him. Collapsed. One hand on a nearby wall. Bent over and wheezing.
Oh, thank god. I'm not just horribly out of shape, he is too.
His eyes widen in embarrassment when he sees me staring at him. "Wh-?! Nishi'an! Don't just look! Do something!"
"Like what? I'm exhausted!" I say, heaving a breath. "What the hell is she running on? Is she a rabbit?"
"I'm going! To die! Woman!" He dramatically leans back against the wall, hand over his face. "This is it. I'm going to wither away into dust."
I sigh and stumble over near him. The plan is to sit next to him, but my legs decide to give out before that and I just. Accept my fate. Sitting in front of him like someone waiting to play pattycake.
"I'm not going to carry your pretty ashes anywhere. I have my own two legs to drag through the station." I huff.
He peeks under his arm, then tenses in surprise and his veins glow. "You're...! S'nilia! Don't sit there, it's-"
"I don't care, I'm comfortable."
"You're-! Between my legs!"
I glance down. Oh. I guess I am. "Yeah? Is there a problem?"
His collar flashes a brilliant pink, and he throws his head back against the wall with a thud. "Y-Yes! It is! Move! This isn't some kind of-! We're! In public!"
"So it'd be okay in private-"
He shoves my face. "You're a nightmare! Move!"
I sputter and fall back onto my elbows, glaring at him. Only. Maybe half. Half-sincere. "Oi, you're too strong to be shoving a girl like that!"
He stares down at me, eyes wide, and his chest thrums. "That is-! You-! You can't sit like that!"
"You didn't tell me to move." I point out. "You just shoved me."
I'm just being difficult at this point. Because I feel like it. And because I can. And I'm too tired to get up and shuffle around because I've somehow, probably, insulted his modesty or morality simply by existing. I'm tired of apologizing for existing.
And anyway, he stared at my naked body for several long seconds before I chased him out of the bathroom. He doesn't get to lecture me about public decency.
He gapes at me, then closes his mouth and turns his head away. His collar flares pink again and he covers his eyes with his arm. "Fis'ia! You ritzakahn hetchki! I'm going to kill you!"
That would be more intimidating if he had any heat in his words.
"You can't even stand up." I point out. "You think you can fight me? Even I can wrestle a half-dead fishman." I say, and then push myself up to my knees and try to grab his arm. He tries to jerk it away from me, but I manage to catch it, and I smirk. "See?"
I'm not sure what it is about that particular action that sets him off, but he suddenly has more energy than I thought possible and he's grabbing my shoulders, trying to wrestle me off of him. I yelp and laugh, trying to keep a hold of his arm and prevent him from pushing me away. "Hey, hey! Stop that! I'm trying to help you!"
"I don't need help!" He snarls, and shoves me again, sending me onto my back. I grip his wrist, though, and pull him with me, and he falls on top of me, hissing and glaring.
And he is.
Entirely too close to my face entirely too suddenly. He freezes and I realize, belatedly, that we are much too close. With me on my back on the floor, and him over me, my hand gripping his wriest, above both of our heads. My hair is spread on the filthy ground below us, and his blue hair dangles on either side of our faces.
He's staring down at me, his golden eyes wide and unblinking, his breath... unsteady.
I can't think of a single thing to say.
He doesn't say anything either.
His veins pulse, and I can feel the heat of his body through our clothes. He's so warm. And his skin is so smooth. And his eyes are so bright.
I can't seem to break away from them.
He swallows.
"Ahhh! You two! There you aaarrreeeee!" A cheerful voice calls from nearby, and I jump, letting go of Llywelyn's wrist, and he jerks away from me like he's escaping a snake. He recoils back to his wall, pulling up his knees and gripping his wrist like I somehow hurt him.
But I know I didn't. That's not why.
Mira is skipping toward us, her mouth full of a fried doughy thing. She swallows and beams, "I was wondering where you went! I got you guys some food! It's good!"
Llywelyn's eyes close and he hisses something about 'pithy' and... I don't know. It's probably one of his words. I don't bother asking.
I clear my throat and stand up, brushing myself off. "Thanks." I try to smile, but I'm not sure I manage it. "I could use something to drink, though."
Mira nods and then glances over to Llywelyn. She seems to be thinking, and then she brightens. "Llywelyn! There's a place you like to drink-"
"Render yourself a gemstone." He growls and stumbles to his feet. "We have three days at this fis'ia place. Nishi'an wo'! Calm down!" He huffs, his collar an bright pink.
I stare at him.
Only for a moment, however, because his hand forcibly turns my head back toward the statue girl. "Go with her and eat something. Drink something. I'll be back."
"Where are you-?"
"TO BATHE!"
He storms away and abandons me to the sunlight golem of eternal hyperactive death.
"Thanks." I grumble. "You ass."