Logs:A Journey Worth Going On

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Cast

Leta Abbott and Little Fox

Setting

Telepathy

Log

A Text from Leta: Hey, we're safe and heading home. I have enough juice right now to cast one last thing. Would you like to be inside my head, rather than inside my phone? :p

Text from Fox: YES

Suddenly, Fox feels an odd, but familiar presence in their mind. There's a rush of feelings - weariness and worry fading into relief and exuberance - and suddenly the presence begins to coalesce into a coherent thought... and it isn't Fox's.

New Phone Who Dis???

More excitement can be felt - pushing it's way through the exhaustion.(edited)

It's like stepping into a wild animal's den, the mental equivalent of crawling into a warm, chaotic space that smells of Fox.

There's a sense of worry that evaporates like hot water poured onto a hot slate. Leta's making jokes.

You know who.

The presence of Leta's mind seems... comfortable here -- in a way that she only rarely is in person. Delight wells up when Fox responds.

I know, I know. I'm the one who called you, remember?

Mirth.

The energy that Fox has been expending for hours, that low-key vibration of worry worry worry, means that when she relaxes, finally relaxes, she feels very tired.

You are. You are. Is anyone hurt? Is everyone alive? Or... uh... not... forever dead?

Everyone is fine, Fox. I promise. It'll be easier -- and probably more reassuring -- if I show you. Here, look...

The vision that plays in Fox's mind is a little muddy - as if seen through a tired, bleary-eyed gaze. Leta turns to face Vasha - he's in the driver's seat, smoking a cigarette and focusing on the road.

There's a roar beside her, and Leta mutters "what the fuck?" under her breath as she watches a pair of bikers - each with a passenger - roar past them at a speed far faster than a motorcycle should go.

Then she looks at the seats behind them. Liezel is sitting in the seat behind Vasha - humming quietly to herself with a notepad, and scribbling something that looks like notes on sheet music - and the seats behind her in their 15-passenger van are filled with weapons and flak jackets and various tools and trinkets.

She faces forward again, flipping down the passenger mirror and flipping on the interior light so that Fox can see her reflection. She's covered in soot - save for the outline of her goggles - and she flashes a dumb grin just as Vasha's voice grumbles something, and the light gets turned out.

See? We are safe. I cannot wait to see you again.

There's a strong sharp feeling, the almost stabbing, stinging feeling at the corners of the eyes when tears come fast and unbidden and will not be denied. It's a visceral feeling, and even if Fox knew how to shield Anthelion from it, it's doubtful that she would do so. The instant, overwhelming and very primal sense of Fox's relief comes with all its physical components:

The weird, dizzy sensation, almost light-headed. The feeling of the tension in her stomach releasing, where she'd been holding on to her fear very tightly for hours. The stuttering, uneven feeling of her breath that doubles her heart rate for a moment before it calms again.

Okay. Okay. Good. Okay. Soon?

Leta's presence seems to swell. It's warm, nurturing, friendly. There's a profound sense of relief - like closing your eyes for the first time after a long day.

Yes. Soon. As soon as we're home. Or as soon as possible, please.

There'a swell of emotion. Brief, but overpowering. The feeling of a heart beating faster. Breaths coming quicker. A haze of endorphins that leaves her brain racing.(edited)

Her presence gets all soft and small, like someone curling up and pulling a blanket over herself, or tucking her tail over her nose. Fox has felt so worried for so many hours that the sudden rush of relief empties her and leaves her raw and fragile.

That swell of emotion is reflected by Fox, a rush of joy, those endorphins - and as with most things where Fox is concerned, there's a physical sensation that goes with it. She lives so entirely within her body that everything comes with the feeling of how she lives within her chosen skin. Her heart flutters, her face flushes warm, her throat tightens a little. Her thoughts spin like dried leaves stirred by the wind, and it's not so much that she thinks aloud the words I love you as that everything in her mind sings it undeniably.

Here, in her mind, Leta's presence is large. Full. Powerful. It drapes itself over Fox like a weighted blanket, holding the them tightly - but carefully. There's another swell - a reaction to Fox - a rush that sends her heart off racing. Practically threatening to burst from her chest.

I love you, too.

Of course Leta says it - it's clear as if she'd said it aloud - rather than just let the flood of serotonin speak fir her. As comfortable as she may be, there's a level of control she maintains. Even here.

Can I show you my favorite place? In my memories?

Another rush of relief, the sort of thing which is compounded by that careful mental embrace. It's edged with the memory of fear, the subtle echo of I was so afraid that I hadn't said it and you'd be gone and I'd never have said it that washes in and washes out like a tidal surge. Not words exactly but the memory of thinking that, a shimmery distance from those thoughts.

She curls up smaller in that weighted blanket embrace and puffs out a soft small breath, which Anthelion can feel. That flood of serotonin wraps her up, and she's warm and giddy. Tell Vasha you want to come to the apartment. You should be with us.

Yes. Please.

Vasha, drop Liezel off first. My car is at your apartment, and I'd like to stay for a little while before going home.

Fox can hear Leta's voice again. This time it echoes through her mind as she thinks of the words a half-second before they're spoken.

Done - and you don't have to worry about that any longer, my Little Fox. I am still here, and I know now. I will always know.

Fox can hear the sound in their mind before anything alse. Cicadas buzzing - awakening in time to scream and fuck and die - in the distant summer heat. Her eyelids open, and the sound of the insects seems to dull as her sight adjuats to the brilliant Texas sun. The sky is an incredible, brilliant blue with big, fluffy clouds rolling gently across a lazy afternoon. The land around here is flat as a board - for miles - and beyond the porch, it's dense with thick, knee-high grass. There's an orbweaver spider building an intricate web between a pair of support beams that glitters against a sky that seems to stretch on forever, and ever, and ever, and...

There's a peace - a calmness - that Leta imparts by bringing Fox to this place. There's just a hint of homesickness at the core, but by and large this is a memory with no worry. No trouble. Just warmth settling in around them like a weighted blanket - not unlike Leta's presence - and a profound sense of serenity.(edited)

If Liezel doesn't want to be alone, bring her too. Her cadre probably has her, though. There's deep affection that thrums through Fox's thoughts when she thinks of the Obrimos, a low emotional buzz not unlike the sound of those cicadas. I was so afraid for all of you.

And you're dirty, you need a shower.

Her mind starts sort of gently careening all over the place - a more muted version of when a dog comes inside from a walk and has a case of the zoomies.

That caroming from place to place settles when the memory opens up around her, and her breathless delight at what she sees - feels - hears - echoes through her whole presence.

It's so beautiful.

Fuck, I know. Vasha bought a second flamethrower. It was a new experience. I enjoyed myself throughly. I am covered in ash and soot and I smell like fire.

Fox can feel the deep breath that rattles through Leta's chest - the smell of the van's air conditioning barely masks her sweaty, sooty, dirty scent.

Oof. Yeah. I need a shower. This is where I grew up, though. Too fuckin' hot to do much outside, but I used to love sitting on the porch. It was so easy to doze.

The clouds roll clear of their field of vision, and there's just... nothing but the endless sea of pale blue.

Would you like to go with me to visit it at some point?

You're all filthy. I bet you stink like rats and smoke. But it does sound like a good new experience. One in which no one died. Did the vampires do okay? With the fire? Finley ran away from it. I am... actually I thought I checked in on zher and I'm embarrassed to say I didn't. Shame on me.

He legitimately feels a wash of shame, there, but then she's distracted by the scent - and the thought of Vasha and Leta both with flamethrowers, and both so honestly filthy and sweaty, and her heart skips a beat. The warmth that rises in her belly is affectionate, of course, but ... that's not all, not by far.

There's a brief wander of Fox's brain that she quickly redirects when she realizes it's happening, a bit of math that begins but what if shower + Leta + Vasha + Fox?? and ends with sudden embarrassment.

I'm. Uh. Yes! I would like to go with you and doze on the porch in Texas. I would like that very much.

The sound of Leta's chittering laughter echoes through her mind, followed by the words: Fox says hello.

Though, the laughter is accompanied by another swell of emotion - similar to before, but different - feeding off of Fox's affection and mirroring it.

I jokingly told Vasha that my tinder profile said I was a unicorn looking for a couple when we met.

There's another echo of another laugh, but she doesnt respond to the muddy, external questions about why. That peace she felt while visiting the memory? There's some of that, now. It's not quite as intense, but the feeling of homesickness is gone.

Unlike Hawaii, you can drive to Texas on a road trip. Just saying.

Wait. What. Wait. You can't just say things like that, Leta! Fox is (perhaps delightfully, to the Mastigos) flustered as all get out. Her brain just caroms wildly all over the place, sort of flailing mentally.

The flutter of her emotions and the mention of Vasha comes with a strong anchoring sensation. There is nothing in Fox's emotional life so strong and so fierce as the love she feels for that grumpy Ukrainian. It is twined around her sense of belonging, deeply anchored.

A long drive. But it would be a journey worth going on.

Can't say what things?

Delight only barely describes the swell of satisfaction and mirth that wells up in the wake of Fox's sputtering and flailing. There's heat in Leta's cheeks. Fox can feel the devilish grin.

He's rather lovely to work with. We worked well together. Similar arcane focuses - similar methods. Operation was smooth. Very satisfying.

Leta's stomach flutters at that last statement, though.

Good. I'm really looking forward to when the world is quiet enough that we can try.

Things about talking about your Tinder profile like that with Vasha! You can't -- what was the -- how did that even come up? You have to tell me about this! That spluttering does not stop, not at all, and Leta can feel the likewise heat spread across Fox's face, the flutter in her throat, the dancing delight in her belly.

Good. I'm glad. He's very easy to work with once you understand him, you know? I ... I mean obviously I'm biased. It's sort of the mental equivalent of awkwardly twiddling her fingers together. How did it go with the others?

She chews her lower lip -- Leta can feel the tiny pinpricks, a familiar sensation because Fox has bitten her lip plenty of times. It may never be quiet enough. We may have to make time on our own.

There's a brief flash of memory. A phone screen. Leta's shit-eating grin barely reflected in the dim text message window set to night mode.

'Oh, is it that you have a unicorn hunting Tinder profile?

I'm in, by the way.

Just saying.

It was a gag. He was being self-deprecating and I started fucking with him, rather than entertain it. The group was efficient, though. Things went far smoother than they had a right to, I think.

There's a snappy montage of more memories. From the operation. Liezel prone, dispatching three rat hosts with a series of lighting fast headshots while Vasha and Leta flank the group with flamethrowers. Rena - the woman riding passenger on the silver motorcycle in the previous memory - darting around her opponents with a grace and speed that can only exist by magic. Leta and Vasha convincing Berniece to work for them hunting down the last of the Beshilu. The group brainstorming their plans to purge the warren.

There's an odd floating sensation. Leta's cheeks flush as the lip biting sensations triggers an associated memory - and then descends into an exceptionally lewd rabbit hole before Leta wrangles the memory.

My high must be starting to hit. Oops. Yeah. Let's see if we can't make some time for it, then.

Laughter curls through the mental link as those images flash through to Fox, and there's the warmth and heat on his cheeks able to be felt once more. Her laughter is not embarrassed, exactly, but brilliantly and edged with that blush.

Oh dear. Was it, though? A gag, entirely? And now Fox's mental tone takes on that sort of attempt at verbal jousting that other gremlins do much better. She isn't made for subterfuge. Too bad, then. The mental equivalent of a swish of the fox's tail.

She wanders through that montage like a tourist in a gift shop, touching the images, picking them up and moving them around in her hands, and then setting them back down again. And then dashing down the rabbit hole without shame, because that's how a fox do.

What did you take?

Not entirely - and even if it was, I'm not going to troll myself out of a possible threesome. Do you take me for a fool?

Leta's little chittering cackle echoes through the shared mental link, and the connection from her end does indeed begin to grow hazy and floaty as her high catches her.

Oh, just some pot. I brought LSD tablets in case I needed to cast something major on short notice, but that seemed like overkill for the ride home. I smoked while we packed up - shared it with one of the Vampires.

All of Leta's little aches and pains seem to dull, and her mental presence slowly begins to take on a quality like cotton. Fuzzy. Dulled.

Sweet Fox, I hate to let you go, but I'm drained. We can text - though it'll probably be terrible in the wake of doing this - but we should be back in Philly in an hour or so.