Ex Lacrima Remnant

Track #35 – A Sweet Scent of Aromatic Plants

Mimi’s eyes lay wide open, staring at the dark blobs dotting the ceiling. Her breaths were regular, well spaced, quiet even. One of her hands was idly resting on her belly, the other one on the pillow stashed on her cot, right under her nape. Her skin felt dry, drier than ever, as if every drop of moisture out of it was sucked away. But, in hindsight, it was to be expected.

“Laccy will kill me dead.”

The first words that escaped her lips, after regaining her footing in reality. Because, on that cot, she wasn’t lying alone. Her bare skin was wrapped by soft tendrils, spread all over her body. And a blond head was resting on her chest, still with eyes closed, quietly rubbing against her breasts, while a tongue stalked the last drops of sweat that it missed. Mimi let out a sigh, moved her hand down to her hips, meeting another hand, one that was human only as appearance went. Her fingers danced on its back, caressed it. In a way, it felt like closing a circle. That circle that started with a human woman and a rhizome in the greenhouse, now ending with the same rhizome and the same human woman in a small cell inside a spinning space station. She felt a tickling sensation in her lower body, causing her to blush slightly. Prim’s fingers were still in a state of unrest, moving around places they should have not touched more, even after she was asked to stop. Mimi contemplated grabbing that hand, pulling it away. But, alas, her flesh was weak, very much so. So, she let herself enjoy the moment, a moment she subtly dreamed of for years, never believing it could become real. A moment she hoped she could witness with her own eyes too, but that was probably too much to ask for. So, instead of putting a stop to it, she caressed Prim’s hand more, pushing it even deeper down the path.

“Yeah. Laccy will kill me. No way she’ll take this well.”

Lacrima. Her house plant. For all intents and purposes, that rhizome always acted like it was a simple transaction. Water for lymph. Lymph for water. No feelings involved. That was very much so, indeed. But drinking lymph from another rhizome when she had one at her disposal already, one that needed to be drained if she didn’t want to become a walking bush? That made Mimi feel dirty. Prim’s lymph, though, was good. Its taste was quite different and was slightly gentler, but had a longer, more lasting effect. Two different varieties, both of which made her body crave for more. She wrapped her free arm around Prim’s back, squeezed her closer, till her forehead hit Mimi’s cheek. That blond rhizome, the origin of her obsession with plant lasses… was cute. Yeah, she was so cute. Shame she couldn’t see how she had changed, since the moment they met. She kissed her between the eyes, just above the nose, which caused Prim to jiggle. Mimi groaned a little, replaying the past minutes in her mind. Of course, that plant she was hugging right now was an absolutely unmitigated disaster in bed. Mimi had to take the lead and show her some stuff, because all Prim knew was useless theoretical knowledge she absorbed by reading teenage girl forums on the comnet. If Mimi didn’t have to deal with that sudden, post-stress, post-crushing-effort withdrawal, that single fact would have been off-putting enough for her to bail out of their arrangement. But, since withdrawal it was, and that stuck-up old geezer of Station Commander Geiger didn’t let Laccy out of her cell, she had to make do with the… plant she was dealt. At least, Prim’s unused reserves of lymph were large enough to fulfill her needs for a couple days, just by the sheer amount she drank in their short time together. Mimi’s water, though, wasn’t part of the agreement at all. The fact that Prim single-vinedly went into a water-sucking frenzy once she mistakenly swallowed some of Mimi’s sweat took her for a wild ride. One that ended with them hugging on that cell cot, both in the nude, not even three hours before the Turn of the Millennium. That was certainly a way to celebrate a new century – unexpected, welcome but slightly off-putting. Mimi patted Prim’s hair, pushing her a little away. Only to feel her fingers moving again among her legs, spiking a little jolt through her nerves that made Mimi’s cheeks turn even redder.

“O… okay, Prim. Enough. Stop. You’ve had your fun, I had mine. N… now, stop touching, alright?”

In the dimly lit darkness of that cell, without functioning eyes, she couldn’t be sure that Prim had even heard her. Yet, the movements halted, letting her sigh a little with relief, basking in that soft residual warmth. It was at that moment that Prim finally spoke, for the first time after they kissed.

“B… but we just started cuddling! I read that cuddling after the act is the most important part of a healthy fluid exchange!”

“You… shouldn’t trust what you read on teenage girl comnet forums so easily.”

“B... but Mal…? Mal said something like that too, when I asked him about it!”

Mimi groaned. Oh, yeah, sure. Take a plant gal with zero social cues and give her the most rose-tinted explanation ever. Well done, Mr. ‘I Was Almost Killed By The Plant Hidden Inside My Nose’. Kryzalid would have put that Malstrom guy in her hit list almost immediately. Heck, for a second, while playing her violin in that tiring off-tune stance, she considered ‘accidentally’ making that stupid head of his explode to quench her own pain faster. But that would have made Prim sad, would have broken the only chance she had to mend their relationship. Still, going from bitter enemies to ‘exchanging fluids’ in the span of five days was not on her bingo of the year. She wondered what her dumb Dobrio would have said. Call her a ‘lymph-swallowing slut’, he would, while laughing his ass off in his crop top prisoner suit, flaunting his abs. That was so Dobrio, but she could handle his antics. And, at least, this time it wasn’t he that had to clean the mess she left. That unenviable job fell on the shoulders of the cleaning personnel of Atropos, who for sure would have hated her to the guts at the end of their shift. Which left Laccy as the biggest elephant in the room. One that wasn’t leaving her mind alone. Technically, there was nothing more than an informal agreement among them – one objectively based on mutual benefits. Lymph against water and a safe space. But were rhizomes… possessive? Territorial? If so, how much? That thought was eating at her, till she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Say, Prim… how would you feel… if another rhizome drank Mal’s water?”

“W… well, Mal is free to give his water to whoever he wants!”

Kryzalid pushed Prim’s head down against her chest, scrubbed her hair back and forth.

“Come on, that was a cop-out, gal! You didn’t answer my question. Would it bother you or not?”

Silence. Mimi could listen to her own heartbeat, to the heartbeat of the plant leaning on her. Flesh. Vegetal matter. What was the difference? They both lived. Died. Got hurt.

“I…”

“Would it bother you or not?”

“…it would.”

“How much?”

“…a lot.”

A groan escaped Mimi’s lips.

“I’m cooked.”

Mimi savored Prim’s scent in her nostrils. She loved it. It was soothing. Much like Lacrima’s but in a different way. For an instant, she wondered whether she could have both. Laccy. Prim. Together with her. Hugging. Kissing. Exchanging fluids. Only for a blurry splotch to break the walls of her lucid dream, a blot that had to be Dobrio’s face, looking at her with that one red eye of his.

“A plant polycule?! You’re such a turbo-slut, Kryz! Would you call it a treesome? Or a threezome? Oh wait, now that I think it means more lymph for me too, right? Right? Then, what about three rhizomes? What about four? Aaaah, you’d make your aunt so proud! A true harem builder!”

She shook her head violently, several times. If getting intimate with a plant was already borderline wrong, getting intimate with two plants at the same time was orders of magnitude more twisted. She shook her head, bit her lower lip in frustration.

“…Lagash take me, I’m such a coward...”

“What’s the problem?”

“I already have a house plant. One that… won’t be happy to know I drank your lymph too.”

“Oh, Lacrima?”

“…yeah.”

“I talked with her too.”

“You did what.”

Prim rubbed her cheek on Mimi’s, let her back vines wrap her body, caressing Mimi’s skin in several different spots.

“After you accepted my terms, I walked to her cell and asked her what she thought of my offer: my lymph as an equivalent exchange for Mal’s life.”

Mimi wanted to sink. Facepalm, even. These rhizomes. Surely were. Something else. The tickling sensation of being touched by Prim’s tendrils overwhelmed her senses, forcing her to try her best to keep her attention on their exchange.

“…and?”

“She was bothered.”

“…I’m so dead.”

“Oh, but you had no choice. She… she has to understand!”

“How did I NOT have a choice?”

“You were in serious withdrawal. Delirious. With no other rhizomes available to give you any lymph. If one looks at it like that, your choices were not only limited – they were inexistent. It was either drink my lymph or get mad. Every rhizome would understand this. Even she.”

“…you know that there’s a difference between drinking lymph and – huh – actively ‘exchanging fluids’, right? A can… a simple can of your lymph was enough. There was no need for me to… huh, do you like this.”

“…I guess that’s correct, but…”

“…don’t tell me: you were curious.”

Prim rubbed her cheek against Mimi’s chest once again.

“…that’s also correct.”

“…I really am so dead.”

Mimi let out a sigh, while Prim’s tendrils travelled around her skin, touching and caressing every part of her. Her blush intensified, while her mind tried to focus on Laccy, on how to make amends. If she ever got free again, she would have bought Laccy a full collection of PV bird documentaries, the best she could find on the market – or even a pet parrot for her. Two pet parrots, of different colors. Sadly, there were high chances that couldn’t happen. Her life was hanging on a jury trial, one where she would have had to convince a bunch of strangers that those twenty-something ‘keepers she headxploded were going to die of plant-based complications anyway, even if she didn’t kill them. In hindsight, dealing with a jealous house plant wasn’t the worst that could happen. Much ado for literally nothing. Mimi felt an odd sensation between her legs, one more time. Prim’s hand. Wasn’t getting away. If anything, it was doubling down. Eager to practice what she learned, that blond idiot. Mimi let out a soft moan, opened her mouth, bit Prim’s ear, sank her teeth into it with all the viciousness she could muster. Causing the rhizome to jolt, jerk, lose control of her limbs, causing her hands and tendrils to shake, moving back out in a scream.

“W… what was that for?!”

“Stop means stop. Isn’t that written in those fucking posts you read?!”

“I… I…”

“Whatevs, bunny-bunny. I’m out.”

Mimi sat on the cot, leaving the comfort of that warm hug. She saved a life. Got rewarded for it. It was fine. Even if her own life was going to be short and with a guillotine in the end, she could say she lived it to its fullest, as much as she could. Fulfilling her most secret fantasy twice in one week was surely one way to go out with a bang, especially if once was with her first girl crush. Now, though, it was time to get back to the sad reality of her current situation. She glanced around her cell, solidifying her grip on the world outside the cot. Blurry shapes surrounded her, shapes that had to be everyday items but, to her, looked just like blobs of different, dull shades of gray, bathed in the light coming from the small slit on the door. She wondered what would happen next, absent-mindedly staring at the shining rays slithering inside her cell. Then she heard something. Steps. Heavy. Slow and steady. Military boots, standard issue.

“Prisoner LeFou.”

A voice, calling for her. The same voice that mocked her ‘hocus-pocus’ during her preparations with her violin. The voice of none other than Station Commander Vettor Geiger. Mimi stood up from the cot, kneeled down on the floor, till her hand grabbed something that felt like her uniform jacket. She quickly donned it, closed a couple buttons to hide her chest, before walking to the door.

“Oh, look if it isn’t Mr. Big Shot. ‘Sup? Liked my show?”

“I want you and Commander Primula to come to the mess hall. Now.”

Prim’s voice emerged from the dark, quiet, almost whispering.

“Incorrect. It’s not Commander. Our agreement was that I would be stripped of my rank. I’m just a prisoner now.”

“I’ve… reconsidered your position. You are reinstated, effective immediately.”

His voice thundered, echoed in the small room. Mimi kept staring, her empty eyes fixated on the position the man had to be, waiting for his next words.

“Get dressed and join me ASAP. I already had all other prisoners and rhizomes gathered.”

Kryzalid snickered.

“Well, well, well. Ain’t it a surprise.”

“Something’s… very wrong here. There’s not even much time left, before the Turn.”

He slammed his hand on the door, gazed through the slit, diving deep into Mimi’s sightless eyes.

“If there’s something down there that threatens my country, I want to know what it is… and what I can do to stop it.”

“And what if you could do, let’s say… nothing?”

“Then, I’d like to know that for certain too.”

Kryzalid clicked her tongue, a smug grin took over her face.

“I love that attitude. I’m sure we’ll get along.”

**

Robin wiped her eyes one more time, stopped crying. At least for ten minutes. She had to resist ten minutes. The pen in her hand, the writing on her notebooks. She still had a long way to go. A long way to document everything. She would have needed a lifetime, the lifetime she already spent regurgitating her memories on paper. But that volume was lost, as a consequences of her actions in Aralu. So, she had to write again. Every single second not spent writing was wasted. If she couldn’t stop this Turn of the Millennium, she’d stop the next, this time for real. She took notes, ideas, fragments to give to her future self. After all, with three hours left, there wasn’t much she could do. Only put her new plan in motion, in excruciating detail, while trying to find away to save those notes. Atropos wasn’t gonna last forever. She needed a vessel, one that could resist the coldness of space, the cosmic rays and all that jazz for at least a century or two. That would have been enough, but with what technology? The only structure that was even remotely on that level was Lagash. How her nanoactuators worked was also a well guarded secret, one that mankind didn’t discover yet. Not now, not in the past. Similar tech, though, had to exist, otherwise her existence, her emergence would have not been explainable. Maybe, humans reached that level of progress, but it was stuck at a prototype level. So, hard to find something like that on a pre-retirement space coffin. Maybe on Neon, on the single moon that orbited their planet? Moving there would have won them a couple days at best, but maybe the colonists held more advanced tech than the land-dwellers. That was a secret hope she had, that Neon had developed some secret technology unbeknownst to Lagash, of the selfsame type that she needed to fulfill her duty. A duty she could have successfully carried out at the last second, if only her gamble with Lily worked. If only that stubborn plant listened. But no, of course, she didn’t. Now, even her allies, her few, scattered allies, were wary of her. All because she shot an innocent man dead. Robin clenched her fist. She would have done it ten, a hundred, a thousand more times, if that meant stopping the Turn. But they couldn’t see it, because they didn’t share her experiences. She touched the gem encased in her forehead. Had they had access to it, maybe they could have understood. But no. That was not possible, not without…

“Prisoner Robin.”

A voice at the door, one she had already listened to once or twice.

“I don’t have time.”

“Your presence is requested by Station Commander Geiger.”

“I said I don’t have time.”

She kept writing. Her notes, those notes were more important than whatever that Peacekeeper wanted to tell her. Not even a chance.

The soldier fell into uncomfortable silence, looked through the slit again.

“…listen, I…”

“What are you going to do if I don’t come, kill me? You are unarmed. Prove me it’s worth my time and I’ll come. Otherwise, bring me out of this cell at your own risk. I won’t get out gently.”

Steps away. She heard the chirp of a communication device being opened, words exchanged via radio. Steps forward again, a beep followed by a metallic noise. The lock released, the door slid open, letting light in. Illuminating the small cell, its occupant. And her notebooks, scattered all over the floor. The soldier got in, put his hand on her shoulder.

“I just received clearance to give you more information. It’s about the Turn of the Millennium.”

Robin stopped writing, talked without turning.

“What of it?”

“Its security has been heavily compromised.”

“H… how?”

“That’s what Station Commander Geiger wants to discuss in the mess hall.”

“Why the mess hall?”

“Because it’s the only room big enough to host all the people involved. It’s also one of the few sections of this station with an active PV connection for the…”

A fit of cough. The Peacekeeper shook his head, groaned.

“…the live broadcast of the celebrations for the Turn. They have already started, my comrades are already on the watch for anomalies. Still, we…”

Another fit of cough, inside the dark helmet. Robin smirked.

“Don’t die on me, soldier.”

“…don’t joke on that.”

After saying that, the Peacekeeper grabbed her arm and started walking out of the room. Leaving a small green stain on the floor, right when he sneezed when talking through the radio.