recolle | [Closed] At the end of it all...

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[Closed] At the end of it all...

WHO: Penelopes and Freya
WHERE: Penelope's apartment
WHEN: Post Event
WHAT: A reunion, dinner, comparing notes from the last three weeks and other things
WARNINGS: Language, likely mention of violence, death, body horror, and other unpleasant topics.

The battle had left Penelope drained in a way that only a fight could, even more than three weeks of near constant anxiety and terror. When Retrospec's announcement had gone up and everything returned to normal, it'd all come crashing down at once and as loathe as she was to suggest splitting up...it had to happen for a time. Freya needed to get clothes and stuff from home, and probably needed to follow up with Minako, and Pen desperately needed not only a shower but also to calm the damn cat down.

And put in the order for food. Food was required. And not just any food. The best damn stuff she could get off Grubhub on short notice. So, she'd lent her girlfriend the car and set about these tasks, waiting for Freya's return. The delivery came quickly enough, and she'd stuck it in the oven to keep it warm. Steaks, potatoes, greens, a jug of water and a nice bottle of red wine Yuff had left before she'd frittered off for the weekend like nothing weird had happened. At least they'd not have to deal with that particular distraction.

Glancing up at the clock from her perch on the seat nearest the door, Pen rocks back and forth, an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach. It'd only been a day. Plenty of time for reality to shift again. She hopes that's just anxiety talking, and she wants to hope that she'll hear the keys turning in the lock soon...but can she really expect it?

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She takes a moment to drain the rest of glass.

"So, what you're saying..." Freya rotates her chair to face Pen, the corner of her mouth quirking up slightly. "Is that I'm a hot mess."

Pen's glass is halfway to her mouth when Freya starts to turn, and it's at her lips when Freya speaks...and in true fashion, she snorts and very nearly spit-takes whine at the joke.

Coughing, she manages to splutter it into the cup and just starts laughing.

"Oh...my god!" Setting the cup down, she just keeps on shaking with laughter, leaning over to bump foreheads with Freya. "Yes! That's exactly what I'm saying!"

Freya leans down into that forehead bump, resting her head there with closed eyes, the small smile sitting on her lips spreading into a genuine grin. She doesn't laugh, but the warmth of humor spreads through her chest, along with no small amount of satisfaction.

It's beyond tacky to say the laugh sounded like music to her ears, but in all honesty... it did. It feels like ages have passed since Freya heard anyone sound like that, so bright and happy and clear. The fact that it was Penelope's voice, so familiar and wonderful, and knowing Freya herself caused that just added to the sweetness of it.

The taller woman waits for the laughter to run its course, relishing in the contact of their twined fingers in the meantime.

"I missed you," she murmurs. "You and that wonderful laugh of yours."

Penelope wouldn't have been bothered by her saying that in the slightest. She beams as her laughter peters off, standing up and moving around the table. If she's not stopped, and she doubts she will be, she'll take a seat in Freya's lap.

"And I've missed you," she answers, "And that wonderful smile. Thinking of it got me through a few bad nights, you know."

"Yeah?"

As if she'd stop Pen. As their twined hands came to rest in Pen's lap, Freya's free hand reaches up to comb those thorough those long golden strands. She meets her partner's grey eyes, her own filled with raw adoration.

"I'm glad I could do something for you in that hellhole." Once her fingers had run their course, Freya brings her hand back up in a caress this time, fingers lightly running along the back of Pen's jaw.

Edited 2017-08-28 04:15 (UTC)

Pen settles in, one hand slipping around her partner's waist, the other reaching up to touch her cheek, the thumb resting against the strong lines of her chin. Leaning up, she presses a tender kiss to her lips, but doesn't let it linger.

"You did. I knew we'd be reunited, somehow. A lot of crazy stuff happened, and has and will happen, but you've been a constant. You...probably have an idea of what that means to me, now."

After the flowers. After the messages she'd left, could there be any real doubt?

That kiss was no less delightful for its brevity. Her words make a flash of affection and regret in Freya's heart. It was illogical, she knew, to let being separated eat at her this much. Events had been out of her control, no matter how much Freya didn't want to admit it.

I don't know if I could take coming home and finding it without you.

Pen had given her an important role in her life. She should live up to it.

"Not as constant as I ought to be. I shouldn't've left you, back at the convention." Freya's thumb brushes along her partner's cheek before she leans in for another similarly short and tender kiss of her own. "Look, I know I didn't leave any messages or anything, but I thought about you. Wondered what happened—if you were still in the city, thinkin' something had got me, if you were somewhere else down in that mine..."

Freya's arms both encircle Pen's hips, and she leans in to press her lips against her partner's temple, lingering this time. She didn't want to let go. "Shouldn't've left." Maybe then, she would've been there for Pen, in that awful lab together.

"You couldn't know how it'd turn out," Pen says with a little shake of her head. "There were a lot of things that could've happened, but that wasn't one of them either of us expected. There's no way we could have seen that coming."

Leaning a little, she presses her forehead to her partner's, hovering close and breathing a touch more heavily. Her thumb rolled to one side, sliding up Freya's cheek, brushing along the line of her jaw. There was so much she had wanted to say, so much she felt she needed to say, but those thoughts fled away, unimportant now that the two of them were back together.

There was no reason for many words, when actions could do just as well. Still, a stabbing pain flared up in her heart, hearing Freya talking about the worries. And actions couldn't soothe those away entirely.

"I know you were thinking of me. I don't need messages on my phone to tell me that. I knew, the minute that you called...that I'd been in your thoughts. I've never heard someone so glad to see me, Freya, and I will never forget it."

Turning her head, she kisses the taller woman one more time, this time deeper, a little more forceful...yet still brief. There are words left to say. A little more mischievous words, but still...

"If that dragon knows what's good for it, it'll keep you safe and bring you back to me."

Freya had closed her eyes again when their foreheads met, relishing in the gentle touches of her partner's fingers, how it ghosted just under the bruise ringing her eye.

How could that have been the most glad anyone's ever been to see her, to hear Pen's voice? This kind of danger and far-flung, fantastical adventuring was an anomaly, sure, but right now... no one seemed more incredible than the girl in her lap. She deserved that kind of relief and enthusiasm on the faces of others.

The taller woman returns the kiss less forcefully, but no less warmly. It's over too quickly.

Pen's trying to line the serious sentiment with humor, she knows, but Freya can't help but respond candidly. "I'll bring myself back. You can't get rid of me that easy, princess."

She tilts her head a fraction, stopping just short of pressing her lips to her partner's again. "I won't let you forget it, either." It's been something that's been on her mind, while they were gone. How fragile their lives were: their fragile pulses, their situations, their minds, their very awareness of the this world based on some stupid app. There was no telling when something would go wrong, or how. "I'm gonna keep bein' glad to see you. Alive, well, and aware."

They could be torn apart at any time, by another 'storm' or otherwise. Freya wouldn't take her partner for granted, and she would make sure Penelope knew that beyond any shred of doubt.

Penelope couldn't say why she felt that way, not really. Her status as a minor celebrity was one thing, but none of those people really cared, her friends were another, but as relieved as they were to see her (clearly) they weren't Freya. There was something special in how this woman looked at her, acted around her, and treated her. It was different, and somehow more genuine in her head. Their relationship wasn't based on something Pen had done for her, or some prank, or any of the other things her more shallow relationships were built on but rather on something mutual. It wasn't merely attraction, it wasn't even Pen latching on a little after she'd blabbed all her hidden feelings about being alone one rainy night, it was something built and grown between the two of them. A tree planted and nurtured with understanding, camaraderie, respect, and more.

Her heart swells a little at the comment, the candid response and the pet name. She should probably correct it at some point, since she's fairly certain her other self serves a princess, but it seems an unimportant detail give the mood. It's these little reassurances and the calm confidence of her partner that really reassure her that she will come back. It pushes aside some of the feelings of vulnerability, shores up resolve that'd been cracked by weeks of doubt, and instills her with newfound vigor.

"And I'll come back to you too. Don't you worry, if this happens again. Me and my monsters. We'll power through, fight and do whatever it takes. If it means hearing your voice, I won't lose. No monster, no mine, no lab. Nothing'll hold me back."

She knew when she said it she couldn't always be in control, and that wasn't a shock for her, as buffeted by life as she often was. She was small, she was easy to miss in a crowd, but like her father had always said, she was tenacious. And if she wanted something...she got it. She hums the first bar of an old song, something her mother used to sing. Eyes closing, still humming as she brings their lips together for another, longer kiss. The melody plays out in her head, the refrain repeating over and over as she holds her girlfriend.

Ain't no grave...gonna hold my body down.

The humming's a cute touch. Freya'll have to ask what that was, later, when there weren't more important things at hand. Maybe Pen would sing it for her.

Her lips press and move against Pen's, rough and utterly chapped. Like Freya and her smiles tonight, it's more subdued than usual, but there's not a shred of hesitation or reluctance. The arm around Pen's back moves, stroking a hand idly up and down her spine, while the other curls further around her hips and pulls her closer.

She just has to ask, and she'll hear as many songs as Pen can manage.

The rough kisses only make Pen's mouth move with more insistence and vigor, her tongue lashing back and forth in an effort to sooth her partner's aches. The hands holding her up grow more insistent, the lean muscles tense and clutching like the woman there is a life raft and the kitchen is a sinking ship. She shifts her legs, moving with startling agility until she's straddling Freya, feet dangling near the floor.

Letting up anytime soon doesn't seem likely, but it's fine. She'll breathe when her heart stops soaring.

Freya always enjoyed it when Pen straddled her lap, with the added benefit that it eased the strain on her neck. The taller woman hums a contented sound in the back of throat, content to let her partner overwhelm her and push her back against the chair.

The hand on Pen's back slides up to cup the back of her neck, fingers tangling in golden hair as Freya nips ever-so-gently at her partner's tongue in invitation and tilt's her head. Drowning in her girlfriend's ardor sounded wonderful; Freya could be content to sit here and kiss her all night, though she doubted that would be the case.

The nips egg her on, her mouth parting even wider, her tongue playfully poking and prodding at Freya's. Just letting go for a night sounded amazing, and if the taller woman was content with it, Pen would go with everything she could muster. Exhaustion may keep her from going at her usual pace, but the thought of even a little and then curling up in bed is just as appealing.

Her fingers gently flex, the normally well tended nails now blunted from anxious chewing, scritching along Freya's spine as the rest of her pushes closer. She molds herself to Freya, content to be a barnacle for the moment, even at the risk of tipping the chair. She'd hardly notice if it did.

(She better not tip that chair, because wouldn't giving Freya a concussion be such a great cherry on top of this whole August shitshow?)

Since when was there ever a time that Penelope didn't go at it with all she could muster? Freya certainly didn't mind Pen pressing up flush against her, either, if pressing back a little in return was any indication.

The hand at Pen's hip inches up just under the hem of her shirt, thumb and forefinger running lazily tracing along the soft skin. Freya couldn't hold this kiss for terribly much longer, but damned if she didn't go as long as she could, drinking in her partner's affection as she chased the events of the last 24 hours farther and farther from Freya's mind.

Pen keeps it up only a little longer before she absolutely has to break the kiss, let out a breath, and suck in a couple of fresh ones. It helps push the last few weeks as far away as they'll possibly go.

"I missed that," she says with a breathless laugh. "So, so much."

Freya smiles, the hand on the back of Pen's neck sliding down to her upper back.

"Mm," she gasps in turn. "It's something. Not bad, considering I'm a hot mess, yeah?"

Her fingers continue gliding over the skin at Pen's waist, drawing idle patterns under the hem of her shirt.

"The hottest mess," Pen answers with a laugh, letting her own hands slide up beneath the fabric at Freya's back. Nails scritch and scratch and play in little circles against the small of her back.

"Not that I'm any less messy. Ain't we a pair?"

It's tempting to bury her face against this young woman's shoulder and pass the night with gentle touches and long kisses. She ought to be more riled up than this, Freya knew, after something so intense with a warm, familiar, welcome body pressed against hers. She was certainly enjoying it, no question about that.

Freya can't stop herself from just staring at her partner's face for a long moment, her pleased smile turning into something more adoring. Her eyes were still beautiful, silver like that, but she missed the bright color were when the two first met. The hand sitting on Pen's back comes forward again, fingers brushing against her partner's hair on the way; it always felt like a privilege, being the one Penelope would wear her hair down for. Freya's hand came up in another caress, roughened fingertips lovingly stroking along her partner's cheek and jaw.

"Damn near matching set."

Then it finally clicks, like a spark struggling to catch on an old lighter. Finally clean, fed, sheltered, and safe, the nature of the danger they'd both survived settles in, and the resulting relief, overwhelming and clear, strikes through Freya like lightning. They're alive and it's all suddenly so vivid, from her partner's scent to the lingering taste of meat and wine to the antagonizing touches under her shirt. It all mixes with the adoration in a sudden need, and Freya dips her head to drive right at that spot right under Pen's jaw that she knows will make her gasp, moving with the fire that's been missing from the taller woman all evening.

She missed this part, too.

The evening passed quickly, a blaze of barely remembered images and sensations, all of them pleasant and none of them particularly clear to Pen. Morning came, dim light in the pre-dawn hours just beginning to creep into the room.

Rubbing her eyes, Pen sighs, already hearing the flump of the cat leaping up onto the bed. He knew when she was awake, always, and he was probably going to be grabbier than usual today. The heavy cat settles in on her chest, and she shakes her head, turning to look at the warm, sleeping mass of Freya beside her.

"Keep it down, cat. Don't wake her. She's had it rough, these last few weeks," she mumbles, curling up a little and letting herself drift back to sleep with a diesel engine of a purring cat nestled against her front.

Rough was an understatement. A deep sleep like this was the peace Freya needed after all of this, and the normally lighter sleeper of the pair goes undisturbed by the furry little third party. Freya needed to heal, in many different ways.

Deliver us that which we have too long been denied!

The peace shatters some fifteen minutes later when an agonized scream rips out of Freya's throat and she suddenly thrashes, twisting in pain.

That sound, that undeniably tormented scream, tears Pen awake. She bolts upright, the cat leaping clear and bounding out of the room with a terrified snarl, taking some of Pen's skin with it.

"Freya?! Freya!"

Feeling her thrashing, flailing there, Pen shifts and comes down on her partner, grabbing her arm and pulling her closer in an effort to get her still. Wake her. This is wrong, something is horribly, terrifyingly wrong...and this is just in her sleep

"Hey! Wake up! It's just a nightmare! Baby, it's just a nightmare!"

She flinches initially before she realizes that the sensation isn't pain. The haze of sleep and the lucidity of the memory interact terribly, and Freya turns wild and confused eyes to her partner. Her muddled mind can make sense of the two realities she's seeing, or the two extremes of the overwhelming, all-consuming pain being chased away by something soothing and warm, only for the process to repeat itself.

So she hoarsely utters the first word that comes to mind in both realities, the two people present blurring together.

"Run." From the terrible being right there; the one coming for her, next.

"Hey! I'm not running anywhere!"

Pen shifts her grip, becoming more insistent and focused, on that, on bringing Freya out of whatever it was that was tripping her up. This was...new. Frighteningly new...

"It's just a dream, Freya! Wake up!"

It does pass quickly. Those visions always did, leaving the worst of it event in its wake. Freya stares uncomprehendingly at Pen for moments more, before one of her hands desperately seeks out her partner's. She's shaking and sweating, chest heaving as her heart pounds.

Freya's trying to say something, but fear and shock were making it difficult to get her thoughts in order.

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