Chapter Text
Rain hammered the windows of the apartment, filtering down in long trickles that turned the outside world into a blurry, watercolour dream. Two cups sat on the small tea table, drained of their contents.
The world, it seemed, had taken time to breathe, and Kirika along with it. Their expedition to the Manor had left them both wounded, shaken, but alive— and together. The Soldats would surely come for them again; but for the moment they would be preoccupied with their internal strife, and how to cover up the existence, and failure, of Altena’s twisted plan.
At least, that was Kirika’s hope. Please… give us just a little longer. Just a little more time to breathe.
Mireille sat cross-legged on the bed, clad in only a loose white shirt, flipping through a magazine. Something about fashion, maybe, from the cover. Kirika wasn’t really interested in the contents; she’d accepted during their time together that she’d never share Mireille’s tastes in reading material, or clothes. It was the woman behind the magazine that drew her gaze.
Was it strange that Mireille was barely wearing anything, and Kirika was wearing all the layers she could? She wanted to feel cosy, she told herself. But maybe it was a little like armour, too. She wanted to be close to Mireille, but...
After a few moments, Mireille seemed to sense that she was being stared at, and lowered the magazine to regard Kirika with a quizzical expression.
“What are you looking at me like that for?”
“Mm.” Kirika shrugged a bit. She didn’t know, truly. She was just… looking. Enjoying something. It was rare that she enjoyed things. She wanted to have this one.
“You should take a picture. It will last longer,” said Mireille, emitting a soft sigh when she realised Kirika didn’t know the idiom. She patted the bed next to her. “Come on, sit down. It makes me nervous when you hover like that.”
“Mmn.” Kirika needed no further invitation. She made her way up the stairs to their little bedroom, sitting down next to Mireille and leaning against her with a little sigh of her own. Somehow, just being this close to the other woman, inhaling the scent of her, feeling the warmth of her, worked to unwind the slight knot in her chest.
She let her eyes fall closed. The rain still drummed in the background; closer by, she heard Mireille set down the magazine, then felt long fingers begin to comb through her hair, playing with the short, messy strands.
It felt good… no, better than good. It felt electric. Had it felt like this when Mireille had washed and cut her hair that time? She wasn’t sure, but she liked this now. She found herself leaning further into the petting, eliciting a low chuckle from Mireille.
“Really, you’re just like that cat you tried to bring home,” said the woman, her tone teasing and warm. “Staring at me like some wild animal, then coming over to be pet. Practically rubbing your head into my hand.” A pause, as she toyed with the hairs at the nape of Kirika’s neck, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. “Should I pet you more, then? Like a cat?”
Oh. Oh oh oh oh.
“Un. Y-yes, I… please....”
Mireille moved around her body, sitting behind her now. Her breath brushed Kirika’s ear, and all the tiny hairs around it. “...Have you done this before.”
Kirika’s mind was overflowing with sparkles. Had she? Anything like this? No.
She shook her head.
“Mmh. That’s what I thought, but… it’s all right.” Mireille smiled; she could feel it against her skin. “Just say something if you need to stop… and, please, for once, something understandable? Like ‘stop’?”
She knew Mireille was doing that thing, where she looked at her with a little bit of frustration and what, she supposed, was love. But it all came back to love. That was what was different about Mireille… she would never put love aside for hatred.
Kirika giggled a little, breathy, strange. Her own voice sounded strange. Like one of those other schoolgirls, the kind she’d pretended to be. “Okay.”
“Hmmm. Then, let’s see here...”
Fingers trailed down Kirika’s jawbone to trace her throat, her chin lifting in a way that, she supposed, could be catlike. It was just a way of saying the same I cherish you she’d been saying all along, every time she put her life in Mireille’s hands. Here, I am vulnerable. I’ll make it so easy for you. Kill me.
But Mireille’s hand went down, further down to the space between her breasts. “...Well, if it’s a good cat that doesn’t bite, I think it’s fine to pet them on the belly, hm?”
“Nnh…” That was a definite yes. It was all in the tonality. Also the way she bit her lip in a way that, she supposed, Mireille would probably consider adorable, though it was absolutely a reflex.
“So…” Mireille cupped one of Kirika’s small breasts, seeking out the nipple through layers of cloth and gently tweaking it. “First, we should take this off.”
“A-ahh…” Oh dear God she wanted more of that.
Both of Mireille’s hands now sought Kirika’s chest, gently dancing over the front of her sweater. “Well? Will you do it or shall I? It’s hard to pet you properly otherwise, little kitty.”
“Uh… ah! Well, uh….” Her addled braincells swum around, looking for a response. “C-aats can’t take off their clothes… s-so… would you….”
“Lift up your arms.” Kirika did as she was told. Mireille slipped the sweater over her head, followed by unbuttoning her shirt. “It’s so unseasonably warm in here. I don’t know how you can stand all that clothing.”
“Mmh.”
Strong yet gentle hands slipped the shirt from her shoulders, and Kirika took a breath as the cotton fabric brushed over one nipple, causing little goosebumps all around it.
They’d both seen each other naked before, even touched each other, but that had been out of necessity: to bandage a wound, to wash the grime and blood away when the other was too sore to move. Kirika had never thought about how she looked to Mireille then. Now, she saw her own small chest, dusky little nubs of flesh now embarrassingly hard, and hoped she was enough.
“...I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you aren’t wearing a bra…” Fingers ghosted once more around the shallow curve of her breasts, her ribcage, skirting the scars that were still red and tender; now circling her nipples, never quite touching, making Kirika whimper and squirm and ache to guide Mireille’s fingers back to where she needed them. But she knew that the other woman knew just what she was doing to her, and was enjoying drawing it out. Her insides felt like liquid heat, like summer sunshine breaking through wavering shadow, like seeing a mirage and yearning for water.
Perhaps it was unseasonably warm in here.
“...Well, ah… i-it’s just… uncomfortable, and I... could be strangled with it, s-so….”
“That’s the only reason?” said Mireille, in that tone of voice that said she was teasing again.
“Mm.” Kirika couldn’t think of another one.
“Well, it is all unbefitting of little cats anyway.” Mireille’s hands went now to her waist, sliding over her stomach and barely brushing the waistband of her pants, then trailing light fingernail scratches across her upper thigh before returning to begin unbuttoning them. “Off with these now.” Sliding the pants over Kirika’s hips, Mireille
touched her, somehow, and
“—Wait… st… stop.”
Had that been her own voice? She hadn’t meant to say anything, but something had
slammed into her stomach, like a fist, forcing
the words out of her lungs before she was ready. She didn’t want to stop, she wanted to keep going, but
“Hm? What’s wrong?”
the words were
“Kirika?”
all wrong, like an echo in a dark room
“...Kirika? Did I hurt you?”
“...help…”
“Ssh. Kirika. It’s all right… you’re safe….”
When the world finally stopped spinning, Mireille was sitting in front of her. When had she moved? She rubbed at her eyes, trying to reorient herself in the world. Her mouth was dry.
“I… ah.... I… think I remembered something… a little.…”
“...A memory?” Mireille’s expression was pinched with concern, her face drained of its colour. “Your eyes, Kirika. They were like that time...”
“My eyes?”
“Yes… when I found you again at the Manor. It was like the light had gone from your eyes… it frightened me.”
“....Mm. I’m sorry, Mireille….”
The other woman shook her head. “Don’t be. That time… I was frightened for myself. And of what it meant for all of us. Now, I’m just worried about you...”
Kirika fumbled for the words, but they wouldn’t come. They were lost in a grey fog, slipping off the end of her tongue.
“It’s all right. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“I… I don’t know what I want.” She looked down at her hands, folded firmly in her lap. “I wanted… this… you… but then….”
“...You remembered something.” Mireille was wrapping a blanket from the bed around Kirika’s shoulders. She hadn’t realised she was cold, or that she was shaking, but all of a sudden she was very thankful for it.
“Mm. Not… a whole memory. Just a moment, but...” Her hands gripped the edges of the blanket, pulling it more tightly around herself. “...I don’t think I want to remember. I… I used to think if I remembered everything, if I knew my past, then maybe… maybe I could atone. For all my sins.”
“Kirika….”
She blinked back hot, sudden tears. “...I…I understand now… why I held onto that student ID so long. I wanted to believe that somewhere in the past, I’d been an ordinary girl. With friends… a family. I... want to live in the light, Mireille… but if I only know darkness….”
The Corsican embraced her smaller partner, pulling her to her chest. “You have me. You are my family now… and we can live however you want to.” She fluffed Kirika’s hair, but not too much. "Well. Within reason, of course."
"Mm. Of course…." She leaned forward, letting Mireille take her weight. She felt so tired all of a sudden.
An ordinary life… what would that even be like? She tried to imagine it, but nothing came to mind.