Chapter 8 #5
I paused in front of one that was finished with gold dust, glimmering and sparkling in the lights overhead, and I thought of Araxis's iridescent swords.
Funny, how we all felt the need to make things that were meant to kill…
beautiful. That there could be a loveliness to violence – or perhaps it was the loveliness we craved to make the rest of it more palatable.
If I swung a sword prettily, did that make the damage I did less ugly? Was that the lie I needed?
Then again, the work I was doing with Tam was anything but pretty – and maybe that was the truth I needed. Blood and bruises and the taste of copper in my mouth, the ache of muscles and bones and ligaments. Ugly. Real.
My wristband vibrated, yanking me out of my thoughts, and I flicked the calendar notification open. My entire afternoon had just opened up, marked now as Personal Time.
I looked around for Araxis, who was just leaving the desk where he and the sephear had been signing documents. Despite how exhausted I knew he was, there was something suspiciously like a spring in his step. "Sashen," he said as he drew near, "Would you care to go on a date?"
My eyebrows raised of their own accord. "You're asking me on a date now," I said, standing in the middle of a warehouse in Ballast Ward.
His hands drifted behind his back, like they did when he was uncertain. His cheeks silvered under my scrutiny. "I understand that it's likely considered too much to suggest such a close interval but – I had thought – Since we are here."
"Since we're at a warehouse," I repeated, a smile catching my mouth. I cocked one hip, crossed my arms. "What exactly are you suggesting? Are you going to buy me a gun?"
Araxis's stare traced my shape. "I certainly can, if you would like. Perhaps you would like to try some out first. Imisu has a shooting range in the back and she is happy for us to use it. I thought it might be an activity one might undertake on a date?"
The longer I went without giving him a clear answer, the likelier he was to second- and triple-guess himself. "Well, lucky for you," I said, dry, "my afternoon just freed up. I guess my client thought I deserved some time off. He knows that I had a stressful morning."
"Hm, yes," Araxis said. "He sounds thoughtful. And I am told that one of the best ways to remediate stress is by firing very expensive weapons at targets across a great distance."
"I mean, that's one way to remediate stress," I said, sly.
The flush turned that rosy pink I liked so much.
I laughed, delighted, as he led us back to the provisioner, who was beaming at the two of us like we were characters from a broadcast come to life – and I suppose we were.
She escorted us to the range out back, before setting out a row of arc lances and blast pistols and other weapons I didn't know the names for, and then she left us to our own devices.
What followed was one of the best afternoons I'd had in recent memory.
Maybe in my life. Araxis took his time, telling me about each weapon that was arrayed before us; he walked me through safety features and effective use, had me hold them while he cozied up behind me, his hips fitted against mine, his hands supporting my arms, changing my grip.
He let his mouth rest gently against my ear, murmuring easy explanations and then drifting away to watch as I took aim and fired at distant targets.
He was quick to congratulate me when my aim was excellent, and to join me in laughter when it was abysmal.
And all the while, my skin hummed with pleasure, something like contentment filling the cavernous space inside my chest. I'd catch myself watching him as he took apart one of the rifles with professional efficiency, lost in the task while he ran through an explanation of how the model worked and its drawbacks and benefits when compared to the others, and I realized, as I studied him, that it wasn't just curiosity I was feeling, but some strange admixture of pride and longing.
"You know," I said once, unable to help myself, "you're pretty fucking hot."
His black stare had flicked up and met mine; those pretty eyelashes fluttered as he felt the weight of my scrutiny, and he ducked his head, flushing a pleased pink, even as he said, "It is just rudimentary training. It's nothing."
"I don't know," I said, skin pleasantly warm as I watched him continue to snap the arc lance he'd pulled apart to show me the charge mechanism back together with an ease and grace borne of incredible competence.
"My rudimentary training was all about the fastest ways to make different species come, so I think it's fair to say yours was better. "
A smile, flashfire quick, caught his mouth.
He clicked the barrel out, the weapon unfolding beautifully in his elegant hands.
"And if I were to say that I find you… particularly hot as well?
" He still didn't look up at me, pretending he was busy getting the settings ready for me in the way he'd determined that I'd liked.
"I guess I'd have to send you an invite to my fan club," I intoned, and he trilled and, when he passed the lance to me, I let my fingers linger against his, my heartbeat warm and syrupy in my chest.
Eventually, we squared off with two of the same model of arc lance and ran through a shooting exercise.
It came as no surprise at all that Araxis won but, as we walked down to the end of the range to examine the damage, it became clear that he hadn't won by much.
I jostled his shoulder with mine, grinning.
"Be careful, I might end up coming for your job as creche protector. "
He hummed noncommittally, examining the scorch marks I'd left on the targets. "We do need an entinn. Perhaps I will step into that role instead. Although – there would be even more meetings, Sashen. I am not certain I would be able to endure."
"Yeah, I've got to say, for creche protector and defender, you have to do a lot of administrative shit." We began to wander back across the range, side-by-side, his hip gently nudging mine every few steps. "When was the last time you picked up your swords?"
He fluted out a long breath. "It is one of the drawbacks of having such a small creche.
We might normally divide our responsibilities across many shoulders, but as we are so few, they fall upon me to see through.
But it will be worth the labour, once we see Creche Thiel restored to the Hall of Records and we take our rightful place in the Assembly. "
He said it like he was trying to convince himself that it was true.
"You are, of course, correct, Sashen," he continued thoughtfully. "I have not picked up my swords in weeks. Would – I wonder –" He bit off the rest.
I waited as we passed the row of rifles and lances again, casting a fleeting, longing look at the glittery arc lance I'd been staring at earlier. "Would I what?" I prompted, when Araxis said nothing else.
"I wonder if you would have any interest in sparring again," he said finally, picking idly at his cuff as though there was a stray thread – although I knew for a fact there wasn't. "I enjoy sword-dancing with you."
My lips quirked. "Oh, were you looking for more lessons?"
He trilled, angling his chin so that when he looked up at me, it was through those impossibly dark lashes. "Only if my instructor is amenable."
Could I add in more training, I wondered distantly, or would I reach the limit of what my body could handle?
And when would I fit it in? I couldn't cut into my language lessons and practice.
I couldn't miss meetings – Araxis had to be at those anyway – and I'd already fallen behind in my training with Tam.
Some of my hesitation must have shown, because Araxis stiffened immediately. "I apologize," he said. "Of course I understand if – You will of course wish to continue to have time on your own. I am already intruding on that. I should not –"
"Stop," I said, sharper than I intended.
His mouth snapped shut. "Yes, I'd like to start training with you again.
I'm just figuring out my timetable. I like spending time with you.
I like sword-dancing with you. I like when you take me places, like today – both for work and for…
not-work. Let's look at our calendar when we get back and reserve some time.
" Then, because he still looked a little hurt, "Listen, if you were impressed today, wait until you see how much faster I've gotten. I’ve been training.
I'll probably knock you flat on your ass – just prepare yourself emotionally for the inevitable trouncing. "
His eyelids fluttered a little, Araxis's weight shifting as he rocked back slightly. "Hm." That lovely purple tongue flicked out to his bottom lip. "So many promises, Sashen." And then he turned and headed toward Imisu, my stomach clenching with a pleasant buzz of anticipation.
He bought me the gold-edged arc lance and looked absolutely too pleased with himself as the sephear took my measurements – apparently they could be customized to your body shape and limb configuration – and promised it would be ready with the order we'd placed to sell in Xitera.
I don't believe in foresight. I don't believe in much, truth be told.
You know, cosmic dust, interstellar radiation, random bursts of static across great distances.
But looking back, part of me wonders if there was something in the gravitational waves that told Araxis he might need me to be armed eventually.
That maybe that same force had been nudging me to training, to working myself to the bone to become stronger and faster, to become merciless. Maybe it was necessary, in the end.