our bodies too, plateaued
M, 2.1k
Gucci Garantine soared alone through satin skies dripping with orange and chiseled with violet hues. It was beautiful. Smoldering still, thinking of Brnine’s face when she left them, she barely noticed. She had been hoping – she didn’t know what she was ever hoping for from Brnine. To ground herself, maybe. Not because she couldn’t handle Clementine, of course she could. And no, the smell of rotting flowers and paint dripping from sleeves did not give her pause. She could not allow it to. It was Clem. The girl who's nails she did when they were girls, inspecting her bitten cuticles for polish that spilled over. The girl she once kissed quiet after an argument at a funeral, when she lived with people that had time to have those. The girl who was a woman now, who was something beyond human, who made a shattered ancient archive her castle, and filled it with monsters. Gucci could handle that.
The hovercraft glided, noiseless and shielded. She could see the faintest sheen on the horizon, the Crown of Glass piercing the ever-sunset, and when she looked down, her fists had clenched so tightly that her nails broke skin.
Gucci reversed course.