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inbox // ximilia
// m.cabrera
TEXT • AUDIO • VIDEO
XIMILIA
[ marta doesn't consider how long she might have been gone until she walks back into a silent room, the eerie peace such a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions she'd left with, that for a moment she wonders if each step had taken years, not seconds. everything else in the room is the same as she'd left it, save for the man now dozing quietly on his side. she can tell he isn't faking it, either, the deep lines on his face smoothed out in a way that doesn't seem calculated or forced, breaths even and deep.
slowly she enters further into the room, setting her medical kit down on a nearby table. she briefly considers just coming back another time, leaving him to this momentary peace he'd found for himself. but if there's anything she knows about him, it's that his peaces never seem to last for very long. in which case...
her sigh is quiet as she takes a seat on an empty spot along his bed, lacing her fingers together and tucking her hand between her knees. instead of steps this time she counts the steady rise fall of his chest. breath in, breath out. one, two, one, two. ]
slowly she enters further into the room, setting her medical kit down on a nearby table. she briefly considers just coming back another time, leaving him to this momentary peace he'd found for himself. but if there's anything she knows about him, it's that his peaces never seem to last for very long. in which case...
her sigh is quiet as she takes a seat on an empty spot along his bed, lacing her fingers together and tucking her hand between her knees. instead of steps this time she counts the steady rise fall of his chest. breath in, breath out. one, two, one, two. ]
[ for a while, it's quiet, rarity in the silence and the serenity that's all a facade for what's really there, for the war that lives inside. the fall of ash that eventually showers over his body again, it always does, as if any distance he finds away from it will never be enough. he only wonders who long it'll take to cover him up too, burying him with the rest of the bodies at stronghold, the last of the envoys falling into his fated grave.
he closes his eyes, letting it fall against the lids, until he can't even see the faint glow of the light from beyond them.
but then he can feel the light shift of mattress, a slight weight sitting close to his side and he exhales a breath, the sigh blowing away some of the ash from his face. of course she's here, like she's been the only one who could reach in and pull him out, and even with eyes still closed, he reaches out, fingers brushing to her thigh, knuckles giving a lazy graze, a voiceless nudge for her to curl into bed with him, to give him someplace out of the ash to rest his head. ]
Clara — [ he whispers her name like a sigh, like relief, that she'd somehow come back to him even after all he'd said to her.
when his eyes blink open, there's no ash, no hazy gaze of gray, his fingers brushing against a different thigh, the blur shifting away to find a different woman sitting upon his bed. it's not the first time he's woken up to find her there (find her making space in an empty room) but somehow he's still surprised, even if he can remember why she'd come here in the first place.
he curls his fingers inward to his palm, reeling his hand back slowly as he swallows, avoiding any attention to the gesture or the name that left his lips. ] ... hey. You're back.
he closes his eyes, letting it fall against the lids, until he can't even see the faint glow of the light from beyond them.
but then he can feel the light shift of mattress, a slight weight sitting close to his side and he exhales a breath, the sigh blowing away some of the ash from his face. of course she's here, like she's been the only one who could reach in and pull him out, and even with eyes still closed, he reaches out, fingers brushing to her thigh, knuckles giving a lazy graze, a voiceless nudge for her to curl into bed with him, to give him someplace out of the ash to rest his head. ]
Clara — [ he whispers her name like a sigh, like relief, that she'd somehow come back to him even after all he'd said to her.
when his eyes blink open, there's no ash, no hazy gaze of gray, his fingers brushing against a different thigh, the blur shifting away to find a different woman sitting upon his bed. it's not the first time he's woken up to find her there (find her making space in an empty room) but somehow he's still surprised, even if he can remember why she'd come here in the first place.
he curls his fingers inward to his palm, reeling his hand back slowly as he swallows, avoiding any attention to the gesture or the name that left his lips. ] ... hey. You're back.
Edited 2022-01-08 01:14 (UTC)
[ one, two, one, two. the counting was like a lullaby, making heavy marta's eyelids in a way no story has since her arrival on this station. perhaps she'd already been half-dozing when he had begun to reach out, for she doesn't realize until those knuckles brush against her thigh, pulling her back to the present.
there's less than a handful of seconds between that touch and the sighing of that name, but for the duration of them it had seemed like a lifetime — and yet still not nearly long enough to even begin to decipher her emotions in that time.
when his eyes fix on her, seeing her, she looks away as if to grant him the privacy she couldn't just a few moments prior. ]
Where else would I be? You called me, remember?
[ he had called, needing her (or so it'd seemed) — of course she'd answer. it's as simple as that.
reaching for her kit, she motions for him to turn with her free hand. ]
Come on then. Show me your back.
there's less than a handful of seconds between that touch and the sighing of that name, but for the duration of them it had seemed like a lifetime — and yet still not nearly long enough to even begin to decipher her emotions in that time.
when his eyes fix on her, seeing her, she looks away as if to grant him the privacy she couldn't just a few moments prior. ]
Where else would I be? You called me, remember?
[ he had called, needing her (or so it'd seemed) — of course she'd answer. it's as simple as that.
reaching for her kit, she motions for him to turn with her free hand. ]
Come on then. Show me your back.
[ there's a guilt in the moment, either from muttering another name after he had apparently called her in for her help, or for the fact that he'd let such a private honesty slip from his lips and be so exposed, like he'd let her in on a secret he hadn't been prepared to spill. more than likely, it's something of both, a swirl of awkwardness that carries more weight than any extended moment he'd stood in front of her naked from head to toe.
he's glad for the distraction when she suggests him to turn around, only taking a moment to nod before he spins his body to rest on his belly, turning his head to rest his cheek against the pillow, facing to the wall rather than towards her, like it could offer a moment to compose himself again. ]
Guess I passed out. You know how it goes — all these girls always walking in on me. Really ruins the sleep cycle.
[ easier to go back to joking, even if there isn't the same edge of playfulness as there had been earlier in his bantering teases. ]
he's glad for the distraction when she suggests him to turn around, only taking a moment to nod before he spins his body to rest on his belly, turning his head to rest his cheek against the pillow, facing to the wall rather than towards her, like it could offer a moment to compose himself again. ]
Guess I passed out. You know how it goes — all these girls always walking in on me. Really ruins the sleep cycle.
[ easier to go back to joking, even if there isn't the same edge of playfulness as there had been earlier in his bantering teases. ]
[ on his stomach like he is, she's left to take a seat in the space carved out on the bed by his torso, hovering just close enough to begin the careful work of cleaning up and removing those stitches. the wound is red and angry, not unlike the first time she'd seen it, but it's nothing she's sure some antibiotic cream won't take care of in due time. overall it's an issue far easier to tackle than the other one at hand, glaring in the way it isn't something visible or tangible, but still just as annoyingly present in the small space between them.
the problem is, marta's certain this isn't something for her to address. she had always suspected something had happened to him the night of christmas; how else to explain his complete shift in demeanor from that morning over their game of go to the late evening as he stumbled into the silent infirmary? she had had her theories, in the few moments she allowed herself to ponder over someone else's problems (problems he clearly didn't want to discuss) but never had she thought that at the crux of it would be a woman. one of their own, even. ]
Maybe next time consider locking the door.
[ but he slips back into that sardonic wit like a comfortable sweater, and marta knows any window of opportunity she had to ask about it has closed. she's curious, but she doesn't pry, so she keeps working and working and working on the one pain of his she knows how to treat. ]
the problem is, marta's certain this isn't something for her to address. she had always suspected something had happened to him the night of christmas; how else to explain his complete shift in demeanor from that morning over their game of go to the late evening as he stumbled into the silent infirmary? she had had her theories, in the few moments she allowed herself to ponder over someone else's problems (problems he clearly didn't want to discuss) but never had she thought that at the crux of it would be a woman. one of their own, even. ]
Maybe next time consider locking the door.
[ but he slips back into that sardonic wit like a comfortable sweater, and marta knows any window of opportunity she had to ask about it has closed. she's curious, but she doesn't pry, so she keeps working and working and working on the one pain of his she knows how to treat. ]
[ even without looking at her, he can feel the way she eases into the steps of tending his wound like an old routine, like her hands are capable of moving all on their own, with ease and carefulness. it's just grazes of her fingertips at his back as she cleans him up but it's almost relaxing, especially when he lays down like this, already having slumbered easily just minutes ago.
but he isn't falling asleep this time, not with the nagging press in his mind over the name he'd uttered out loud, one that she doesn't seem to be asking about, even if he has a feeling she's likely casting her own thoughts and assumptions about it silently in her own mind. ]
Then what happens when I really am lying on my shower floor dying and I need you to rush in to save me?
[ not actually a likely scenario, he assumes, but it's another attempt to keep playing with the dangling string of sarcasm he still has left in the conversation.
but a sigh leaves his lips, heavy that he almost feels his body sinking against the mattress, and maybe it's in that, with his eyes safe away from her gaze that he almost feels compelled to be honest — not about clara; he doubts he could really choke out anything about his relationship with her, because he knows it comes paired with the weight of the deal he's made, something that he doesn't have any intention on bringing up to anyone. but maybe he could at least answer what she did ask about. ]
The ... day the Envoys died — [ he'd told her about it. on new years day. ] I still dream about it. Sometimes even when I'm awake. I can ... still see the ash from the explosions, falling over me like snow. I'd feel it on my skin, inhale it like it's still burning. And I just ... I lose myself in it. Like I'm back there and I ... I wait for it to bury me with the rest of them.
[ even now, his mouth feels dry, and he runs his tongue across his lips to wet them. ]
When I woke up from a long sleep a few months ago, it was supposed to be a temporary side effect — disorientation, visual and auditory hallucinations, low-grade amnesia. And it stopped for a while, but ... they came back recently. The nightmares. Sometimes it's harder to pull out. Last night, I had to really shake out of it. Must've ripped the stitches.
but he isn't falling asleep this time, not with the nagging press in his mind over the name he'd uttered out loud, one that she doesn't seem to be asking about, even if he has a feeling she's likely casting her own thoughts and assumptions about it silently in her own mind. ]
Then what happens when I really am lying on my shower floor dying and I need you to rush in to save me?
[ not actually a likely scenario, he assumes, but it's another attempt to keep playing with the dangling string of sarcasm he still has left in the conversation.
but a sigh leaves his lips, heavy that he almost feels his body sinking against the mattress, and maybe it's in that, with his eyes safe away from her gaze that he almost feels compelled to be honest — not about clara; he doubts he could really choke out anything about his relationship with her, because he knows it comes paired with the weight of the deal he's made, something that he doesn't have any intention on bringing up to anyone. but maybe he could at least answer what she did ask about. ]
The ... day the Envoys died — [ he'd told her about it. on new years day. ] I still dream about it. Sometimes even when I'm awake. I can ... still see the ash from the explosions, falling over me like snow. I'd feel it on my skin, inhale it like it's still burning. And I just ... I lose myself in it. Like I'm back there and I ... I wait for it to bury me with the rest of them.
[ even now, his mouth feels dry, and he runs his tongue across his lips to wet them. ]
When I woke up from a long sleep a few months ago, it was supposed to be a temporary side effect — disorientation, visual and auditory hallucinations, low-grade amnesia. And it stopped for a while, but ... they came back recently. The nightmares. Sometimes it's harder to pull out. Last night, I had to really shake out of it. Must've ripped the stitches.
（ he blinks, briefly bemused — before he realizes, yes, it follows that would be the logical offer to that inquiry. marta has no cause to know that shinobi are not likely to use anything of that nature when on a mission. for most, pain is easier to endure than the fogging of the mind. ）
No, I do not need anything.
I am considering palliative care for those who may begin to succumb to nutritional deficiency. I simply wish to take stock.
No, I do not need anything.
I am considering palliative care for those who may begin to succumb to nutritional deficiency. I simply wish to take stock.
[ she still has much to learn about shinobi, about itachi in particular. but generally when people ask her for something, she can only assume they mean to ask for themselves, or for someone they know. either way, she would be giving. ]
You heard Dr. McCoy's announcement.
[ good, then. they're all on the same page. ]
Then you know those of us who arrived first are the most vulnerable.
You among that group.
You heard Dr. McCoy's announcement.
[ good, then. they're all on the same page. ]
Then you know those of us who arrived first are the most vulnerable.
You among that group.
Edited 2022-01-14 18:48 (UTC)
Shinobi are capable of and expected to go far longer periods than this without supplies. I am in considerably less danger than any other human, and my body will sustain itself on my chakra reserves before it begins to damage my organs. At a rough estimate, I have an additional three week window before I will suffer ill effects comparative to other individuals that arrived in the first drop.
( what he doesn't bother saying is that if he runs out of chakra he's dead anyways. oop. )
But we need to be prepared for triage. I will assist where I can.
( what he doesn't bother saying is that if he runs out of chakra he's dead anyways. oop. )
But we need to be prepared for triage. I will assist where I can.
[ the quiet that follows his heavy sigh feels finite, and so she doesn't dare to ruin it with a sardonic response, content instead to let her work speak for her. she doesn't expect to hear him speak again, let alone in such a soul-baring way.
she keeps quiet, and yet her hands stutter, faltering only once as he speaks a truth so close to home she wonders if part of his envoy skills isn't seeing right through her. when silence settles between them again, she finds it isn't too difficult to think of what to say. ]
I think the worst thing about nightmares is that each time you have them, it always feels like the first time.
[ cruel enough for a mind to remind you of your pain, but to make you relive it each time like tearing open a new wound on flesh already so littered with barely-healed scars... marta knows how toxic guilt can be. how feeling like being the one to survive is meant to be a curse to carry the memory of those who left before you — for you — like an emptiness that just won't fill.
how many nights has she spent waking up to the memory of harlan's soulless eyes staring back at her? how many more has kovacs had remember so many more?
work done, she sits back a bit to give him some room. still, she has to keep busy, works on cleaning up and putting things away so it doesn't feel like she's reaching in, tearing out her own haphazard stitches to speak of a memory she won't let herself forget. ]
Before I came here... I lost someone too. [ the corner of her lips twitch, even as her vision blurs. ] A dear friend.
[ she looks up from her hands, follows the line of his spine up to the back of his head. she wonders what his expression looks like now. if it's in any way a mirror of hers. ]
It's... hard. Being the one left behind.
she keeps quiet, and yet her hands stutter, faltering only once as he speaks a truth so close to home she wonders if part of his envoy skills isn't seeing right through her. when silence settles between them again, she finds it isn't too difficult to think of what to say. ]
I think the worst thing about nightmares is that each time you have them, it always feels like the first time.
[ cruel enough for a mind to remind you of your pain, but to make you relive it each time like tearing open a new wound on flesh already so littered with barely-healed scars... marta knows how toxic guilt can be. how feeling like being the one to survive is meant to be a curse to carry the memory of those who left before you — for you — like an emptiness that just won't fill.
how many nights has she spent waking up to the memory of harlan's soulless eyes staring back at her? how many more has kovacs had remember so many more?
work done, she sits back a bit to give him some room. still, she has to keep busy, works on cleaning up and putting things away so it doesn't feel like she's reaching in, tearing out her own haphazard stitches to speak of a memory she won't let herself forget. ]
Before I came here... I lost someone too. [ the corner of her lips twitch, even as her vision blurs. ] A dear friend.
[ she looks up from her hands, follows the line of his spine up to the back of his head. she wonders what his expression looks like now. if it's in any way a mirror of hers. ]
It's... hard. Being the one left behind.
No. I'll be fine, I was in the third group to arrive. But you and Kovacs weren't. If I bring you two supply kits, could you help to make sure that he's actually eating? One kit will be for you, of course. But I worry he's not going to look after himself in favor of ensuring that everyone else is taken care of.
[ marta's getting much more practiced with this thought-to-text business, enough so that she manages to keep her utter lack of surprise at kovacs' propensity to neglect care for himself completely to herself. small miracles. ]
I'll do what I can, of course, but...
You might be better off finding someone else he'll listen to.
I'll do what I can, of course, but...
You might be better off finding someone else he'll listen to.
[ marta somehow highly doubts that, but she's trying her best to stay out of what very clearly isn't her business.
so in the end she defaults to a harmless subject change. ]
Supply kits are a great idea.
I'm surprised the ones in charge haven't already made them a staple.
so in the end she defaults to a harmless subject change. ]
Supply kits are a great idea.
I'm surprised the ones in charge haven't already made them a staple.
I'm sorry.
[ she hadn't meant to traipse into a sore subject, so all she can do is apologize for the offense. regardless, marta will still think shinobi pretty incredible for their abilities.
despite having a fairly good idea to what ends they use it for. ]
I will.
I know you don't need to be told, but take care of yourself in the meantime. It'll be people like you who see these missions through in the end.
[ she hadn't meant to traipse into a sore subject, so all she can do is apologize for the offense. regardless, marta will still think shinobi pretty incredible for their abilities.
despite having a fairly good idea to what ends they use it for. ]
I will.
I know you don't need to be told, but take care of yourself in the meantime. It'll be people like you who see these missions through in the end.
I had taken charge of putting together some months ago. I dropped the ball on making sure everyone had one this time around.
[And maybe her trying to get people the extra kits she had brought helps ease the guilt she's feeling at not advertising the kits she made enough, or forcing them upon everyone.]
When we get back, I'll have to make it a primary focus.
[And maybe her trying to get people the extra kits she had brought helps ease the guilt she's feeling at not advertising the kits she made enough, or forcing them upon everyone.]
When we get back, I'll have to make it a primary focus.
（ why is she like this. itachi's expression briefly, privately has more in common with a cat petted backwards than just about anything else, though at least the irritation does not make him less prone to marshalling his thoughts in the thought-to-text translation of the earpieces — ）
We will see.
（ he's out!! no thank u!! no more!! ）
We will see.
（ he's out!! no thank u!! no more!! ）
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