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Stelle never remembers her dreams. At most, she’s left with vague impressions, vague emotions, a sense of something missing, and even those fade within a few minutes of waking. But after Amphoreus, she finds herself remembering more fragments than normal. A snippet of a voice, a smell, a face. That face is almost always Kafka’s. Not very surprising, not after the snippets of her memory she regained on Amphoreus. She had learned back on the Luofu that she previously was a Stellaron hunter, but she hadn’t managed to truly place why she felt like a part of her was missing. She’d had her suspicions, but it took until now for her to believe them- to understand why whenever she looks at the wanted poster of Kafka she has on her wall, that void in her chest only grows. But this dream is different.
“...Stelle.”
The gray haired woman blinks. Her eyes flick to her right, meeting Kafka’s wine red irises. They’re standing together in front of a wall-sized window on the Stellaron Hunters’ ship, looking out at the stars. Both are slightly disheveled from a mission, but not dirty. “Hm?” Stelle hums.
“You’re zoning out. What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.” Stelle lies, her eyes sliding back to gaze out the window. “Just zoning out, not lost in thought.”
Kafka’s eyes narrow the tiniest bit. “Don’t lie, puppy.” Using a single finger, she reaches out and tilts Stelle’s chin to look back at her. “You have that look in your eyes that says you’re thinking. What’s on your mind?”
Stelle sighs. She never could keep anything from her girlfriend. “The thing we don’t like talking about.” She murmurs, avoiding Kafka’s gaze.
“Mm.” Kafka hums, her lips twitching as she suppresses a frown. “The time is coming sooner rather than later, I suppose. And what part of that inevitability are you thinking about, hm?”
Stelle’s eyes narrow, meeting Kafka’s once more. “I thought we agreed talking about this is pointless.” Her shoulders tense defensively. They both hated the topic of Stelle’s memory inevitably being locked away. It brought nothing but a sense of dread to Stelle, and Kafka disliked both thinking about having to do it, and what would come after that deadline passed by. It was a growing shadow that both of them had acknowledged, and stopped bringing up.
Kafka lets a few moments pass in silence, her eyes softening. “It’s eating at you, Stelle. That’s unlike you. What about the script has you like this?” Her finger leaves Stelle’s chin, hand cupping the grey haired woman’s cheek. “We don’t bring it up because it’s unpleasant to think about. You’re already thinking. Let me help.”
Stelle tenses further, but Kafka’s gloved thumb rubs across her cheekbone and she melts. “Yeah, okay.” She mumbles, taking in a slow breath and running a hand through her messy hair. “I just worry that the person I become won’t care for you anymore, or something to that effect. It feels irrational and we’ve already talked about it, but…” She trails off, glancing out the window again.
Kafka gives a wry smile, eyes twinkling with a resigned humor as she looks up at Stelle. “I’ve never once thought that you’d completely lose any and all lingering attachments, Stelle. My spirit whisper can’t lock away subconscious things like muscle memory, and I doubt that forgetting your past would change you so drastically that you’d lose affection for me, even without remembering me. Your subconscious knows.”
“Yeah.” Stelle lets out a weak chuckle. “I know. I just… have a hard time getting the thought out of my mind.”
“I’ve been thinking too, though.” Kafka murmurs, pausing as she intertwines her fingers with Stelle’s. “Of a few small, exploitable little holes in the script.”
“That’s dangerous, Kafka.” Stelle warns immediately, her shoulders tensing as she disentangles her fingers from Kafka’s. Her brows furrow, a knee-jerk reaction, sending her from ‘Stelle, Kafka’s girlfriend,’ to ‘Stelle, disciple of destiny’s slave.’. She’d allied with Elio from the start, founded the Hunters at his request. She lived by the script, with absolute trust in that little black cat. The thought of circumventing parts of it seemed like blasphemy, a betrayal of what their group worked for.
“Relax, puppy.” Kafka’s lips quirk upwards. She always did find it cute when Stelle got incensed by something she said.
“Kafka, absolutely not-”
“I ran it by Elio. You think so little of me?” She says with a smug smile gracing her lips.
Stelle deadpans. This woman. “And you didn’t think to lead with that?” She huffs, shoulders refusing to relax. Played like a fiddle. Or in Kafka’s case, a Violin.
“Mhm, I did. But you’re cute like this.” Kafka purrs, pulling Stelle down by the chin for a kiss, a chaste press of her lips against Stelle’s. What little indignant fight Stelle had left in her melts like butter as she relaxes into the kiss.
“If you say so.” She mumbles as they break the kiss, intertwining her fingers with Kafka’s once more. “What’s this Elio approved loophole?”
“Mm.” Kafka hums, leading Stelle by the hand as they walk away from the window, down the hallway. “It’s just another one of the prerecorded memory messages that Elio’s had us do. The ones that trigger to have you remember them when certain conditions are met.”
“And how is this one different?” Stelle squeezes Kafka’s hand apprehensively. They walk past the medical bay, catching a glimpse of Silver Wolf asleep on the glass of Firefly’s pod. Stelle smiles softly, noticing how Kafka’s eyes also linger on the crack in the door.
“It’s not, not really.” Kafka gently tugs Stelle along, the clacking of her heels quieting as they enter the carpeted common room. “It only follows an even more extravagant set of trigger conditions than the rest, to activate at a time where the script is lenient enough to let us spend more time together. Whether that’s years or months after the plan.”
Stelle lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding as the two take a seat on the couch, Kafka pressing up against her side like a contented cat. “And if things change and Elio decides it’s a bad idea?”
Kafka hums, leaning her head against Stelle’s shoulder. “Then we can’t go through with it. And if it still triggers and you get the message to me, I’ll ignore it.”
“Fair enough.” Stelle wraps her arm loosely around Kafka’s waist. “You wanna record the memory message now?”
“Mm, this entire conversation will probably work fine. When you remember it, get a message to me with only the word ‘Spider’.” Kafka leans back, making space between them. “Ready?”
“Ready.” Stelle smiles softly, taking a good look at Kafka’s face for her future self.
“Listen.”
———————————————————————————
Stelle shoots awake in bed with a gasp.
She’s sweating, her heart is pounding, and the Stellaron in her chest feels hotter than usual. She practically tears the blankets off of herself. She’s forgetting already, the details of the conversation leaving her mind like water through a sieve. Her phone. She needs her phone. She falls off her bed with a thud, scrambling for her phone on the shelf beside it.
‘Tell Kafka spider, tell Kafka spider.’
The phrase repeats in her head like a mantra. If she stops repeating it, she’s scared it will slip away like everything else, like the rest of the dream already has. She grabs her phone, opening Silver Wolf’s contact as her thumbs fly across the keyboard.
Stelle: Wolfie tell kafka i say spider.
As the message sends, Stelle lets out a sigh of relief, finally letting the last of the dream-memory fade from her mind. She runs a hand through her sleep-tousled hair as her heart rate slows, glancing at the time on her phone. 7:30. She usually sleeps in, but this time she doesn't think she’ll be able to fall back asleep. She glances at the message again. She doesn't know where the nickname ‘Wolfie’ came from, but it feels right to use. Unfortunately, the girl’s status said she was mid-game playing Pantheon of Champions, which meant she could take upwards of thirty minutes to respond. With a groan, Stelle picks herself up off the floor, pulling a random oversized tee over her head and stepping into a pair of loose sweatpants. With a final glance at Kafka’s wanted poster, she pads out of her room and down into the party car for breakfast.
Only after waiting a few seconds for the omni-synthesizer to make her a plate of pancakes does Stelle finally glance around the party car to see if anyone else is awake and eating breakfast. To her surprise, she sees a head of pink hair peeking over one of the dividers between booths. With a small smile, she carries her plate over and slides into the booth across from her.
“Good morning, March. Seeing you up this early is even weirder than me being up this…” Stelle pauses, forkful of pancake hovering halfway to her mouth as she finally looks at the woman across from her. Empty red eyes stare back. Neither says anything for a moment, before Stelle chuckles weakly. “Oh, sorry, Evernight. I don’t usually see you up and about.”
“Good morning, little Greybird. It’s quite alright.” Evernight replies in her usual melodic tone, pushing bits of fruit around her plate with her fork. “And yes, you don’t. But my March woke up too early and decided that she was hungry, but still needed an extra three hours of sleep. Enough of an emergency for her to wake me, though she truly just wants me to ‘live more life on my own’.” She stabs half of a strawberry, bringing it to her lips. She’s clad in a copy of March’s Pom Pom patterned pajamas, only in red and black instead of blue and pink.
“You, uh, seem a little conflicted though.” Stelle mumbles through a mouthful of chocolate chip pancakes. “You good? Relationship trouble?”
Evernight gives Stelle a pointed look, suppressing the urge to cringe at Stelle speaking with her mouth full. She swallows the strawberry. “No trouble. Simple difficulties, I suppose. They come with sharing a body with your girlfriend.”
“Mm.” Stelle hums before swallowing. “You don't want to take any time in control away from her.” She stabs another piece of pancake. “But she wants you to live, y’know. She loves you.”
Evernight rolls her eyes. “Yes, however-”
“No buts. You’re too self sacrificing for her. She sees you as your own person, and wants you to treat yourself like one.” Stelle interrupts before taking another bite of her pancakes. “She wants to keep you around and involved with what she loves.” She mumbles through another mouthful.
There’s a tense silence where Evernight glares at her, and Stelle thinks she started too strong, gave unwanted advice. But Evernight just lets out a long sigh and eats a slice of apple. She chews thoughtfully for a few moments, before swallowing. “You know far too much about her, and by proxy me. I suppose you’re right, though it doesn't make it any easier for me.”
“That’s why you have to work through it with her. Don’t just pull away and stay in her subconscious until called upon.” Stelle finally swallows. “She sees you as so much more than just a protector.” The two sit in silence for a moment, Evernight glancing out one of the windows at a passing comet. Stelle eats another bite of her pancakes, this time swallowing before speaking. “I understand relationship issues where you can hardly spend time physically with your partner, but at least you two share a headspace and can talk.” She mumbles.
Evernight’s empty eyes slide back to Stelle. “Speaking of which, March 7th is very curious about your relationship with that woman. You don't speak about her more than necessary.”
Stelle sets her fork down, leaning back and looking out a window. “You probably know some of it, since you poked through my memories. March doesn't ask you about it?”
“Once. But only if I knew anything. She thought it would be an invasion of your privacy if I told her.”
“She would think that.” Stelle says with a rueful smile. “And do you know anything about before my memories were sealed?” She pokes at a pancake with her fork, the smile on her face dying.
Evernight pauses. “No, I do not. Your memories are… like a sheaf of wheat, or perhaps a bottle of water. Tightly sealed, keeping me from prying. Were I to unbind them, to poke a metaphorical hole in that bottle in an attempt to look through them, I would be unable to seal them once more in the way they are now.” She looks down at her plate, stabbing a cube of mango. “With considerable effort, I could have gotten close, but any delicacies could have been overlooked, and would result in the seal being weaker.”
Stelle hums noncommittally, putting her fork down and leaning back in her seat. “Even without knowing that, it’s probably for the better that you couldn’t poke through them.” She pauses, meeting Evernight’s eyes. “I know March suspects I just have a crush, but what’s your opinion on Kafka?”
“So long as I have no concerns it could endanger my March, I have no opinion on your… relationship.” Evernight tilts her head. “Not that it can be called much of one, at the moment.”
Ouch. Stelle winces, looking away from Evernight’s grin. “That’s not what I meant, Evernight. I just…” She sighs. “Right now, I might have the opportunity to start a real relationship with her. More than this…” she waves her hands. “Dance of touch and go, one conversation per blue moon bullshit. I just want a second opinion. No one else on the crew knows too much about me and her and whatever my past may hold, and it should probably stay that way. You’re the one person I can go to for this. Should I want this?”
Evernight’s features soften ever so slightly, her grin fading away. She sees a bit of herself in Stelle, maybe. Longing for something she doesn't know if she should want, or even be allowed to have. “Well, Little Greybird. I think you should allow yourself a conversation with her. Learn if she’s truly available for you. But beyond that, it’s only up to her. Follow your gut, though perhaps don’t put an entire planet in danger like I did, no matter how justified it is.” She gives a small, wry smile. “Should you get the chance for a lengthy conversation, just tell her how you feel. It worked for me and March.” She glances down at her plate, a lone strawberry and blackberry sitting on the porcelain. “Though you’ll still have plenty of issues even if you can start a relationship.” She sets her fork down, folding her hands.
The two pause for a moment, a comfortable silence between them as Stelle processes. “Thanks, Ev.” She sighs, picking up her fork once more and jamming another bite of pancake into her mouth.
“Of course.” Evernight’s face loses its softness as she looks away. The two sit in silence, Stelle occupying herself with her food, and Evernight lost in thought as she stares down at her own near empty plate.
It’s only after Stelle finishes her meal that she speaks again. “We should stop by Penacony again, if we get the chance.” She awkwardly blurts out. When Evernight gives her a questioning look, she sheepishly rubs the back of her neck. “I mean, it’s memoria dense. I just thought it could be nice for you and March to go on a date, in the dreamscape. Where you can materialize alongside her. Something like that.”
Evernight tilts her head, thinking it over. “That is a thoughtful idea, Stelle. I’ll mention it to my March.”
Stelle gives the red eyed woman a thumbs up and finger guns in a weak attempt at bravado before standing and walking away, handing her empty plate and fork over to Hush for cleaning and storage. She’s halfway up the staircase to her room when her phone buzzes in her pocket. She fumbles, grabbing it and looking at the screen. Silver wolf replied.
———————————————————————————
Her room is dark, lit only by the glow of her screen displaying the word ‘Victory’. After typing one last insult into all chat, Silver Wolf stretches her entire body, letting out a small grunt. Her phone had vibrated on her thigh a while back, she should get to that. She leans back in her chair, checking the notification. A text from Stelle. She opens the text, expecting an invitation to play or a request to join. Instead, her brow furrows at the vague message. Stelle hadn’t called her Wolfie since before her memories were sealed. She types out a quick reply.
Silver Wolf: ?
Silver Wolf: k will rn
With a small grunt she leaves her chair, stepping into a pair of slippers and grabbing an empty energy drink can from her desk as she pads out of her dark room. She winces at the comparatively bright lighting of the ship hallway that connected the Stellaron Hunters’ individual rooms. Across her door is a wall-sized false window that displays the view out the back of the ship. She glances to her right, down the hall and at the three doors that take up its space. …She should throw her can away first. With a sigh she turns to her left, heading towards the common room. She first passes Blade’s door, then Firefly’s. She stares at the latter door for a moment as she walks past, wondering if she should check on the other grey haired girl. She decides against it, at least for now. Plodding into the common room, she tosses her can into a disposal chute before grabbing another from the fridge. With a grunt as she closes the door, she heads back down the hallway. Kafka’s room was one door down from hers, as the rooms were loosely organized by the order they’d joined the Hunters. She gives the door a knock.
“Kafka, you up?”
No response. She knocks again.
“I have a message for you from Stelle.”
Again, no response. Silver Wolf rolls her eyes. Kafka was usually a light sleeper.
“I’m coming in.” She grumbles, sliding the door open. Kafka had told her anything potentially important regarding Stelle was grounds to wake her, but Silver Wolf had never actually needed to enter her room before. A knock was usually enough to get the woman out of bed. Her eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark room, but when they do, Silver Wolf doesn’t see Kafka in her bed.
“Huh.” Silver Wolf tilts her head. With a swipe of her hand through the air, she pulls up a hologram of the ship’s camera feeds, enlarging the feed of the dorm hallway. She scans a few hours back for movement, until she finally sees the Magenta haired woman heading back down the hallway for the night. Only, instead of entering her own room, she’d entered Stelle’s old room, one door down. With a roll of her eyes, Silver Wolf leaves the dark room. She should have guessed that’s where Kafka would be. Heading one door down, she gives Stelle’s door a knock. “Kafka.” She calls out, tone a bit more annoyed than before. After a brief pause, Kafka’s muffled voice filters through the door. “One moment.”
A few seconds pass and the door slides open, revealing a sleep disheveled Kafka. “Yes, Wolfie?”
Silver Wolf glances her up and down. It’s not often she gets to see Kafka in a less than composed state. The magenta haired woman was wearing a pair of silk pajama pants, and… is that one of Stelle’s old shirts? Silver Wolf shakes herself back to the present. “Message.” She blows a bubble and pops it. “From Stelle. She called me Wolfie for the first time since she left, too. Kinda weird.”
“Oh?” The taller woman raises an eyebrow, any sleepiness left in her vanishing. “And what was this message from our little trailblazer, hm?”
Silver Wolf tucks her energy drink under her arm, pulling her phone out. “Uhm… She said… ‘Wolfie tell Kafka spider’. That’s her only text, and it’s practically incomprehensible. What’s it even mean-” She glances up at Kafka, losing her train of thought. Kafka’s eyebrows were raised, a small look of surprise in her eyes. She even has an excited smile on her face for a moment, then it shifts to one of quiet worry before she schools her expression back into one of composure. Silver Wolf had never seen anything like that from her. “Uh, it means something good, I’m guessing.” Silver Wolf says awkwardly, putting her phone back in her pocket.
“It means I may have a date with my girlfriend.” Kafka practically purrs, her expression changing to her quiet confidence. “Thanks, Wolfie.” She ruffles the girl’s hair as she steps forward into the hallway.
“Uh, you’re welcome?” Silver Wolf takes a step back, giving Kafka a look. Kafka was acting weird, she thinks. More than usual. The woman almost never left her room without being fully dressed. Even weirder was how she referred to Stelle as her girlfriend. Kafka had stopped calling Stelle that after they’d sealed the grey haired woman’s memory. Something about separating her girlfriend from the woman she had to interact impersonally with due to the script, if Silver Wolf had to guess. She watches her quickly walk over to Elio’s door at the end of the hall, sliding the door open and slipping in. ‘Grown ass woman by the way,’ she thinks to herself as she pops open the tab of her energy drink with a satisfying crack. She takes a long drink, turning around. ‘I should go check on Firefly,’ she thinks as she takes a few lazy steps forward, only to be interrupted by a pair of arms wrapping around her shoulders from behind. She spits out her drink, misting the hallway in front of her. “Gwuh-! Kafka!” She coughs, turning in Kafka’s hold and looking up at the woman.
“I need a favor, Wolfie.” Kafka smiles smugly down at the shorter girl. She’d clearly gotten the answer she wanted from Elio.
“Fine, just- let go of me.” She protests, wiggling out of Kafka’s hold. “What are you, my mom?” Silver Wolf scoffs irritatedly. Kafka opens her mouth to respond, but Silver Wolf cuts her off with a stare. “Don’t answer that.”
———————————————————————————
Stelle is spread out like a starfish on her bed, staring at the ceiling of her room. She’s spent what felt like hours like this, with a gnawing pit of anxiety in her chest that refuses to leave. Her phone vibrates, and she practically jumps out of her skin to check it. Unknown number. Kafka, she thinks with a mix of nervous glee and dread. Opening the text, she sees only a single sentence.
Unknown Number: Wolfie’s on her way.
Stelle lets out a sigh of relief. Silver Wolf is fine. Familiar. She doesn’t make her anxious.
“You look like you’re gonna puke.” A familiar voice drawls from her bathroom door.
“Gah!” Stelle drops her phone. “Wolfie, don’t freak me out like that.” She mumbles halfheartedly, picking the device up off of her carpet. Glancing to her left, she sees a hologram of Silver Wolf leaning against the doorframe to her bathroom.
“But you used to be fine with-” Silver Wolf cuts herself off, her brow furrowing and her lips tugging ever so slightly downward. “Nevermind. Guess I assumed wrong. How come you started calling me Wolfie again?” Stelle only shrugs, her eyes glued to the ground, and Silver Wolf seems content to not push the topic further. “Anyways, Kafka got your message, and says the plan is working, if you can even remember what it is.” She pops her bubblegum, proudly pointing over her shoulder at a small tag of Punklordian graffiti newly placed on Stelle’s bathroom wall, in the design of a spiderweb. “Give that encrypted tag a tap and it’ll send a signal to my server to Aether edit you using the express’-” She cuts herself off as she notices she’s started to ramble. ‘Stelle doesn’t need to hear this right now,’ she thinks, her voice softening. “I don’t know why I’m explaining. It’ll send you to a meeting point with Kafka. If things go well, you can use it as often as you want.”
Stelle gives a weak smile, walking over to Silver Wolf’s hologram. “Thanks, Wolfie. You can explain later, if you want.”
Despite Silver Wolf rolling her eyes and looking away, Stelle catches a glimmer of excitement in the younger woman’s eyes. “Uh, sure. Now go talk to Kafka, she’s been weird about this all day.” The hologram flickers, then disappears like a CRT turning off.
Stelle steps into her bathroom, staring at the graffiti for a long moment. She’s ready as she’ll ever be, but her hand trembles as she reaches out towards the wall. With a deep breath, her fingers finally brush against the tag. She feels a pulling sensation in the small of her back, blinks, and is somewhere else entirely.
Her eyes open to her standing under an awning on the roof of a skyscraper, overlooking a rainy city. Neon lights flicker on buildings like stars, cars speeding through the streets below like ants. Pteruges-V. Specifically New Babylon, Stelle realizes. Kafka’s homeworld. She’d seen images in the express database. Taking a moment to drink in the view of the city, Stelle listens to the lonely sound of the wind and rain. It feels sickeningly familiar, like something solemn dragging its way out of the depths of her psyche and filling her empty chest. Her anxiety fades away as she feels the wind in her hair and against her fingers, the cool humidity caressing her skin. And then, in a lull in the wind and rain, there's another sound. A haunting melody, played on a violin. She listens to the lonely violin for a moment, eyes closing as a memory dredges its way up from the muddled depths of her mind. Schubert’s Serenade, she knows intrinsically. How, she couldn’t say. But she knows this song like she knows her name, and she knows that the rendition she’s listening to is a duet, missing its piano. Her breathing slows, body relaxing. The itch of her anxiety in her chest is gone, and Stelle doesn’t think she’s ever felt more at peace since before waking up on Herta’s space station. Her golden eyes open, and with a solemn acceptance, Stelle turns around to face the door she knew would be behind her. An old storage room, left unused on the building’s roof. Her hand moves of its own accord, lingering on the doorknob for just a moment. And then she twists the knob, stepping into the room. The first thing she notices is the wave of warmth as she steps out of the cold. The second is Kafka, standing beside a piano and staring out a window as her gloved fingers move over the frets of her violin, her bow gently sliding across the strings as she plays. She doesn’t turn, even as Stelle shuts the door. Stelle can only stare for a moment as a feeling of soft, familiar warmth fills her chest. A small test from Kafka, Stelle thinks. She doesn’t know why, but she knows that this is important to her. To them. With a somber silence, Stelle approaches the piano, taking a seat at its bench. She can’t remember how to play. But with how she feels right now, maybe she doesn’t need to. Her eyes slide shut, and with a soft inhale she positions her fingers on the keys and feet on the pedals. She lets go of her mind, letting it sink into her subconsciousness as her instinct takes over. Her fingers effortlessly join Kafka’s in their duet, filling the empty half of the duet for the first time in years. It came more naturally to her body than combat did, a small part of her realizes. The song passes in a blur, her soul pouring itself out into the notes as her body plays the countermelody her mind forgot. It’s only a few moments after the last notes of the song fade into silence that she opens her eyes once more, looking up at the woman beside her. Kafka still doesn’t meet her gaze, but her fingers tremble near imperceptibly on her bow as she gently places it and her violin back into their case. Neither breaks the reverent silence that has settled between them, unsure of the words they want to say. They sit in that silence for a long moment, Kafka still staring out at the city. But Kafka has always been the woman of action between the two, and she breaks the silence first.
“This is where we first met, you know.” Kafka’s voice carries the same confident, sultry tone as it always has, but this time, it seems the tiniest bit smaller.
“...Down by the first floor, right? Wednesday. 11:12 AM.” Stelle’s voice is hoarse, like she’s finally speaking for the first time in months, years even.
That sentence is what finally breaks Kafka’s stoic facade. She turns, looking down at the love of her life with unabashed hope in her eyes. “You remember?” Her voice is ever so slightly hesitant. She’s never gotten her hopes up before, but she can’t help it this time.
“I remember Elio’s order, but not our actual first meeting.” Stelle meets Kafka’s wine colored irises. ‘She’s not wearing her contacts,’ she thinks. “There is a chance that Kafka will ignore the can. In that case, just throw the ball away. You will die, but death will come for everyone. As for the future you yearn for - I will realize it.” Stelle repeats part of the memory in a monotone voice. “I remembered it in a dream, a few months after waking up on the space station.”
“That was ten years ago now.” Kafka murmurs.
Stelle’s voice is hushed. “Ten years?”
“I was twenty four, You were twenty.”
“I’m thirty?” Stelle seems almost taken aback with silent shock, and Kafka has to suppress a small, adoring chuckle.
“Part of planting the stellaron in you involved de-aging you, which is why you’re biologically 27.” The magenta haired woman’s fingers curl against her side, rubbing against each other. A small tell of her unease
After some short mental math, Stelle speaks. “So…” She murmurs. “I spent seven years with you.”
“You did.” Kafka hums, tearing her gaze away from Stelle’s eyes. “And about six years of which were spent as… more than simple colleagues.”
Stelle just stares at the woman’s side profile, finally getting the chance to just… exist in the same space as her, no games or script holding them back from speaking relatively freely. “I’d assumed.” Stelle says softly. “So… how can we go forward? Together.”
Kafka’s head snaps back to Stelle’s face, silent delight in her eyes. “Well.” She hums, striding over to sit on a small couch against the wall. “We can meet here relatively frequently, but it’s for the better that we don’t talk much about the script, the other Hunters, or your past.” Kafka’s voice is back to her low, sultry composure. “But… We can be here, talk, spend time together as just… ourselves with each other. Be together again, even if we can’t directly work together anymore.”
Almost as if in a trance, Stelle stands and walks over, taking her familiar yet forgotten seat on the couch. She swallows hard, meeting Kafka’s eyes. “I’d like that,” she whispers.
Aeons above, grant Kafka strength. Her eyes flick down to Stelle’s lips, and when they rise back to the grey haired woman’s eyes, she notices that Stelle is staring at hers. She folds. Her composure shatters, and before she even knows what she’s doing, she’s grabbed Stelle and pulled her into a desperate kiss, with three years of pent up longing behind it. Stelle lets out a small noise of surprise but quickly reciprocates, melting into Kafka’s hold. The kiss lasts, Kafka hungrily devouring what she'd been starved of for the past years, Stelle reciprocating with an equal fervor. It takes Stelle finally tapping on her shoulder for Kafka to finally pull away, breathing heavily as she licks her lips. “You have no idea how long I've been waiting to have you back.” She pants, pulling the taller woman into a tight hold and resting her head against the crook of Stelle’s neck. “And you still kiss the same way, so eager.” Stelle can only let out a breathless laugh as she wraps her arms around Kafka, pulling her down on top of her.
“Didn’t you say three years or so of waiting?” She teases, her voice breathless as she moves a hand to the back of Kafka’s head, threading her fingers through magenta hair. She finally feels like the aching void in her chest is sealed, sated. Like she’s no longer missing an integral piece of her soul.
“Felt a hell of a lot longer, puppy.” Kafka grumbles, taking a playful nip at Stelle’s neck.
Stelle huffs a laugh, pulling Kafka’s face away from her neck and peppering kisses across her face. “Am I gonna have to make it up to you?” She teases, her hands cupping the shorter woman’s cheeks.
“Eventually,” Kafka purrs, her hands covering Stelle’s before she rests her cheek against the softness of Stelle’s chest. “But for now I just want you to hold me again, for a few hours. Then we can have dinner, and I can answer some questions.”
“Alright.” The grey haired woman murmurs, pressing her face into Kafka’s hair and taking a deep breath, a hand soothingly sliding under Kafka’s shirt and up her back. “I can do that.” She smiles as she feels Kafka let out a soft chuckle against her chest. “What’s funny?”
“I was thinking about the face you made back on the Luofu, when I said I was your mother during our little lie game.” The magenta haired woman grins into Stelle’s chest. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
Stelle fakes a gag, before letting out a soft laugh. “Don’t even joke about that, I was questioning my short list of life choices before I realized that was a lie. Horrifying concept.” She rubs a circle into Kafka’s back, feeling the woman continue laughing softly.
“We already have two grey haired children, I didn’t need a third.” Kafka grins, tucking her hands between Stelle’s back and the couch. She’s getting drowsy, her words less inhibited.
“Don’t lie again, I won’t fall for something like that twice.” Stelle huffs, giving Kafka a soft squeeze to her waist. “There's no way we have kids.”
“Oh, but we do. Wolfie’s our biological daughter. Firefly’s adopted.” Kafka teases.
“No she’s not. That makes no sense chronologically.”
Kafka lets out a soft, sleepy laugh. “But it’s cute to pretend. She considers us her parents, even if she pretends she doesn’t.”
Stelle hums softly, continuing to rub circles into Kafka’s back. “That explains why she was thrown for a loop when I started calling her Wolfie again today, I guess. She also said you were acting weirder than usual.”
Kafka sighs into Stelle’s chest, starting to doze off. “Mhm… She saw me being pathetic this morning. I was asleep in your old room, with one of your shirts on.”
“Sap.” Stelle laughs softly. “Is this better, then?” She says with a soft smile as she presses a gentle kiss to the top of Kafka’s head.
“Much.” Is Kafka’s last word before she’s dragged into unconsciousness.
Looking down at her girlfriend asleep against her chest, listening to the familiar sound of muted wind and rain, Stelle finally allows herself to drift off into the void of sleep. And for the first time since she’s awoken on Herta Space Station, she dreams of nothing.