Ex Lacrima Remnant

Track #56 – Nocturnal Silent Fading Whispers

Lacrima focused on absorbing the nutrients from the ground, with her tendrils, her foot roots too. Nothing else. Just absorbing, building up her lymph reservoirs again, fixing her bones, building a new sword. That was all she had to do. She had a night to do it. Just one night. That was not even a choice – either she got back in shape or she’d be dead weight. Or, worse, she’d be left behind on Kaitos, while Mimi and Robin had to shoulder all the responsibility for that last, vital operation. She couldn’t allow it, not after everything that happened. Not after everything they went through together. So, she kept sucking everything she could, turning every every protein, every mineral into part of her, at the cost of drying that diminutive strip of land out completely. At the cost of leaving nothing behind. Her left eye socket was itching, the flower still not grown back. That was luxury, though, nothing but a cosmetic touch. She didn’t have lymph to spare for that, for such a minor, insignificant detail.

A sigh.

That wasn’t cutting it. She clenched her fist, her vines, observed the poor results of two hours of efforts. Not even the hilt was formed, let alone the blade. Her lymph production was slow, even slower than normal. Was it because of the stress? It had to be because of the stress. Till that moment, she never, even once, needed to overproduce lymph. All of her life had been a constant quenching of that innate skill of hers, constantly controlling it to avoid it going haywire, running amok on her body and turning her into a plant. Because lymph didn’t come from nowhere – her organs turned the nutrients stashed in her body into that green fluid to keep her operational but, if not enough nutrients were supplied, it would start eating her human tissue, her human innards, leaving only her plant core. Phytomorphosis was the sublimation of that process, a process where her flesh was sacrificed to produce more lymph, to feed her vegetal half. A process that shut down all the normal lymph production channels, as long the balance wasn’t restored, as long as the excess wasn’t drained, as long as the demand wasn’t quenched. Overproduction had always been a problem for her, due to her faulty design. Last time, Mimi saved her by triggering an emergency release, draining all the lymph she produced before her plant body could consume it to grow. Still, as long as she had access to enough nutrients, to enough external materials, that wasn’t going to be a problem.

So why?

Why were her lymph reserves not building up, the one time she wanted them to?

“I figured I’d find you here, Laccy.”

She gasped, turned around. Mimi stood close to the door, leaning on the wall, staring at the ground with her arms crossed. Still wearing her orange prisoner outfit, bar the missing shoes. That caused Lacrima a weird feeling of deja-vu. It wasn’t long before that they talked on Atropos, in a similar situation, one that ended with a simple hug and some long overdue explanations. Except this time Lacrima wasn’t reflecting on her life and her role as a ‘house plant’. This time, she was actively using all of her energies to extract whatever scrap of nourishment she could out of an even thinner layer of soil, wearing nothing but her feathered choker and her eyepatch. All of her back tendrils were delving deep into the ground, turning her into something akin to a spider with a human-shaped core, much like when she jumped from the building. Still, Mimi couldn’t see it, couldn’t see the kind of ‘monster’ she was. Which, somehow, put Lacrima at ease.

“Yeah. My body hasn’t recovered yet, and tomorrow… tomorrow…”

The words got stuck in her throat, incapable of getting out. Tomorrow might have been her last day on Lagash. Depending on how it went, everything that made ‘Lacrima’ could have been killed and devoured by a rapidly advancing swarm of microrobots. Yes, that was it. The end of the line. She closed her eye, let out another sigh. Dead weight. That was what she was. She should have said it, during the strategy meeting. Yet, seeing how even Agave, the same Agave that lost her arms, agreed to her part of the plan, she didn’t feel like she had the right to decline.

Your team will make a run for the control room and deactivate the weapon systems of the seedship.

Mimi. Robin. Lacrima. All in the same squad, together with several Pangean soldiers. Dobrio, instead, was assigned as a member of the Panopticon team. First, because they needed a non-Pangean driver. Second, because he didn’t excel at anything, except maybe at being the moral support of the gang – at least that was General Papanastasis said. Mimi, of course, didn’t waste a second before starting to mock her friend. To cope with that, the big fellow retired to his assigned room and started sewing back both Lacrima’s and Mimi’s outfits. Lacrima had never seen him so down, but the assessment of the general was objectively correct. In their joint battle against Lily, Dobrio, despite his physical prowess, could do almost nothing. He had to have realized it too, because he didn’t even complain once.

“Let me have a look at it…”

A voice interrupted her train of thoughts. Mimi’s voice. Close to her ear. A hand on her cheek, fingers moving under her eyepatch, slowly unfolding it. The empty socket saw the lights once again, freed from the embrace of the black fabric. Mimi’s fingertips danced on the rose bud, on the delicate leaves filling the cavity, caressing them gently. Lacrima shivered. That tickled, almost like rubbing a freshly formed scar with a slightly different skin texture. Still, it wasn’t unpleasant. Mimi’s touch. Relaxed her. And, suddenly, she felt something else. Her lymph production. Was accelerating. As much as her heartbeat. In sync with it. Lacrima basked in that feeling, didn’t try to suppress it. It was a small effect, negligible even, but it was there. The soft touch of Mimi’s fingers was enough to make her feel better. She turned to face her guest, only to find her close. Very close. Too close. Their noses. Their lips. They were almost touching. Those empty irises of hers were reflecting themselves in her red eye. And she smiled, a genuine smile so different from the sarcastic grin she used to wear.

Their lips joined, even if just for an instant, before Mimi turned back. But still remaining close. So very close. Lacrima gasped, shook her head, pushed her a little away. That kiss. The moment their tongues touched. Lacrima had felt it once, already. Knew what that was the prelude for. She bit her lips, looked down.

“Mimi…? I… I don’t have any lymph to spare. I’m… I’m sorry. I can’t… I can’t even give you that!”

“I don’t need your lymph, Laccy.”

Her index finger touched Lacrima’s nose, played a little with its tip.

“I just want to water my house plant to make her grow stronger.”

“…what?”

Another kiss, this time on her neck. Mimi’s tongue licked it, her teeth chewing the exposed skin. Lacrima gasped, right as Mimi’s other hand gently closed around her breast, her fingers exploring it all over the place. Lacrima’s heartbeat accelerated again, up to levels she didn’t believe possible. And her lymph production. Accelerated too. The nutrients she was absorbing. Were turned into lymph. Faster and faster and faster and faster. And her tendrils, her roots extracted more, more, more substances. She couldn’t resist. She couldn’t resist any longer. Her vines. Her vines wrapped Mimi’s body, slipped under her clothes, started ripping off the buttons, pulling down zippers, ripping off hooks and velcro. Mimi pushed her, pushed her down, made her stumble, fall on her back. Before pinning her under her own body, their bare skins touching, sliding, rubbing slowly against each other. A soft moan escaped Lacrima’s lips, as her lymph production increased even further, to the maximum level she had ever experienced. Mimi’s hand kept moving on her breasts, squeezing them, caressing them, pinching them.

“Drink my water. Drink all of it. Drain me dry, Laccy!”

“M… Mimi?”

“It’s all yours. I’m all yours.”

Another kiss, again on her lips, right as Lacrima’s vines finished undressing her, ripping whatever was left of her clothes in a frenzy, right as their bodies became one. Mimi felt Lacrima’s tendrils moving on her body, caressing her back, wrapping her chest, slithering between her legs. She blushed, let that thousand delicate touches awaken her senses, amplify her sensations, let herself be overwhelmed by that multiform embrace.

“Y… yes! Like that, Laccy! I… I want to see your flower bloom again. I… I want to see your beautiful red rose shine!”

“…b… but you’re blind…”

“That’s not important…”

Mimi pushed her forehead on Lacrima’s, keep her head in her hands.

“…as long as you can see it for me.”

Their hands, their bodies joined once more, in a dance of tender caresses and kisses, a dance of moans and touches, of bites and licks.

A dance with no end in sight.

If that had to be their last night together

they wouldn’t waste a single second of it.

**

Mal lay on his cot, wearing a sort of pajama. His percom was left hanging on the cupboard, its battery dying. Three hours of attempts, of calls to all numbers he had stored, with the permission of General Papanastasis. Three hours of nothing. Nobody answered. Not his mother. Not his father. Not even his younger brother. He should have done as Chris said – act as if they were already dead. Easier said than done, especially when hope was such an alluring perspective. Still, he knew when to call quits, and that was the right moment. Getting some shuteye, before he joined them. A suicide mission, it was. Raiding Panopticon to keep Eastcol troops at bay, together with three rhizomes, a metalheaded weirdo and a couple more Peacekeepers. All because of an alleged secret weapon. If anything, the most surprising part in all of that was that Felce was actually right, for once. Felce. That conspiracy theory crack. Well, even a broken clock marked the right time twice a day. Felce, though, was so broken that it was a miracle it even worked once. Still, the coming day would have been the last, in the worst case scenario. The last time he cleaned his gun. The last time he saw the light of the sun. The last time he saw Prim. Regrets, regrets, regrets. He liked her, very much so, but to which level? As a friend? As a sister? As a potential love interest? He couldn’t get his mind straight on it. Prim’s body elicited strong reactions inside him, but her mind felt like belonging to a different organism altogether, one with a separate definition of what ‘good’ and ‘evil’, ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ were. Still, seeing her taking the initiative, aggressively negotiating with General Papanastasis made him feel, for the first time, totally in awe. A cute scaredy bunny that turned into a safety anchor, one everyone could count on. Still, the fact that lymph was akin to a drug meant that, even if he considered the option, ‘exchanging fluids’ with her would have been awkward.

Those thoughts were washed away by the noise of an opening door, the door to his assigned room. He glanced at the newcomer, his hand ready to go for the knife he left on the nightstand.

“Mal…?”

His hand relented. Speak of the devil – pardon, the rhizome.

Prim was standing there, in his room, wearing her bunny hoodie, shorts and bunny-shaped slippers. Still, her plushie was not with her, this time around. Mal sat on the cot, crossed his arms.

“Can’t sleep either?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on, sit here.”

She nodded, took place close to him. Her neck roots were placidly resting on her skin, unmoving, much like her concealed back tendrils. Her cold blue eyes were also quiet, at peace. Her voice trembled, her fingers closed around the edge of the cot.

“Do you think we’ll survive?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

Mal tapped his finger on his temple, shook his head.

“Dunno. There’s a lot that can happen. What do you think?”

Prim lowered her gaze, her legs were constantly jolting left and right.

“Mal…”

She leaned on his shoulder, closed her eyes.

“…can I drink your water? E… even just once?”

Mal’s eyes widened.

“Excuse me?”

Primula’s legs trembled faster, as she turned her gaze away from him.

“Th… this might be our last night together. And… and so, I… huh, I don’t want to die before I…”

Mal patted her head, squinted his eyes, while also letting out a long sigh.

“You should stop trusting teenage girl forums on the comnet.”

“H… huh? How…”

“‘What would you do, in your last night on the planet?’ is a very teen question to ask. And – lemme guess – the answer you found was ‘I’d make love with the guy I like’ or whatever.”

Prim bit her lip, crossed her arms, leaned on Mal’s shoulder.

“…I thought that was how things went among humans… that it was a sort of – huh – tradition?”

“Nah, it’s a bad movie cliché. Sex before the end. You find it everywhere in fiction and it gets old pretty quickly. Because, you know, authors write it as if humans had nothing better to do than fucking, in the face of danger. It’s pretty annoying, but – hey – some degens must like it. Probably ‘cause it gives them a chance to believe they’d get what they want, at least once. Dunno. Feels forced.”

“B…but is it wrong?”

Mal shrugged, wore a tired smile.

“I’ve never been through the end of the world, before this week. And… honestly? It’s hard to believe that it’s actually happening. I can’t accept that New Babylon is… gone. It just feels fake. Can’t say my first thought was getting to bed you, you know?”

“I see.”

She sighed, turned around, while still rubbing her head against Mal’s chest.

“Agave and Felce will tease me to no end, when they find out that I got it all wrong.”

“You told them about this… huh, ‘last night on the planet’ tradition thing-y?”

“Yeah, and they immediately headed for the room of… how’s he called? The big human with a metal head and the healthy abs.”

Mal forcefully prevented himself from wheezing, trying to imagine the face of that Dobrio peep at the sight of two rhizomes hellbent in sucking his water dry. That sounded like the plot of a gorn movie. Sucked dry. He hoped Chris’s friend had some old-fashioned blunt objects in his room, one he could use to fend off the assault of those crazy plant gals. Despite all his efforts, that mental picture made him chuckle. He took a note of checking in on him the day after, possibly finding him still in one piece. Still, Prim’s scent was distracting him more than he wished. She was close. So very close. Leaning on him heavily. Every second more. He gulped down a lump of saliva, right as her hand started moving on his thigh.

“…after I gave my lymph to Mimi, she asked me a strange question.”

She tried to mimic Mimi’s voice, in a failed attempt that was a mix of wrong and wronger.

“How would you feel if another rhizome drank Mal’s water?”

Her hand kept caressing his thigh, pinched the fabric of his pajama. Mal tried to ignore her, patting her head once again.

“And…?”

“…”

“Prim?”

“I’d kill her.”

Those words. Those cold words. An ice blade. Slashed his brain in half. Prim’s voice. Had never been so abrasive. She stared down, as her legs kept shaking.

“That was the first thing that I thought. In my mind, I saw Felce pulling down your pants and… and starting to drink you. And that image… that image… made me burn. Made me feel like killing her. But… but I can’t understand why.”

Their gazes locked. Prim. Prim was leaking water. From both of her eyes.

“I’m… your emotional support plant! You… you are my emotional support human! That’s all there is to it! So, why? Why am I so bothered by other rhizomes drinking your water? Mal, I don’t… I can’t… what’s… what’s wrong with me?!”

Mal felt his body overwhelmed by her strength, felt himself forcefully pushed down on his cot. She was crying. She was still crying.

“Please, Mal… tell me! Tell me what… what is wrong with me! It’s illogical! It’s stupid! But I…”

Prim leaned on him, hugged him, shoved her head in his chest.

“I… really, really want to drink your water, Mal, before anyone else does! Especially Felce! Everyone but Felce! So, p… please, let me… let me do it. Just once. Just once and never again. I want… I want to taste you. I want to understand you. I want to feel you, to become one with you! You are… the only human… I would ever ask this to. The only one… I trust.”

“…said the gal who shared a bed with Chris.”

“…I’m sorry, I…”

Prim’s eyes widened, her pupils contracted all of a sudden.

“Oh, no! No, no, no! Mal, please! Please don’t kill Mimi! It’s my fault! Not hers! I just… I was so, so curious that I… I asked her to go further than…”

“…kill her?”

She blinked, looking at him again.

“…didn’t you… go through the same thoughts I had? Oh, wait! Right! You aren’t a lymph junkie! You can’t drink my lymph! So, you’re not bothered about Mimi drinking my lymph, but rather… Wait wait wait! Was it the kiss? The fact that she kissed me first?! Oh, no, no, no! Sorry, Mal! I…”

“Oh, shaddup.”

Mal hugged her back, pushed her down, felt her scent of flowers going up his nostrils, felt her warmth all over his body, felt his blood reacting to her presence, felt his cheeks burning red.

“Prim…”

He didn’t know what took a hold of him. He didn’t know what was right or wrong anymore. He didn’t know why he was doing that. But, at that point, he felt like not doing that, in that night, in that last night they shared on the planet, might have been the single biggest regret in his life.

“…you can have my water, if you want.”

“B… but isn’t it just a bad movie cliché?”

“Yes…”

He caressed her hair, kissed her forehead.

“…but even bad movies can be good, at times.”