Ex Lacrima Remnant

Track #57 – The Coming Dawn

The first rays of the morning filtered through the windows, bathing the room in its bright presence. Prim’s breath was regular, quiet. Her head was leaning on Mal’s shoulder, her hands still exploring his body, resting on his chest, on his thighs. His dark complexion, her pale skin. Black and white, in a contrasting chiaroscuro, a combination just broken by the bright green substance spread around Prim’s legs, dripping from her mouth too. Lymph. Lymph nobody consumed. Lymph that overflowed from her body when their union reached its climax. That moment reminded Mal that, despite her appearance, despite her desires, Prim was still a rhizome. Part plant. Part human. All awkward. Still, plant or not, cuddling with her felt nice. The soft touch of her tendrils, the caresses, the kisses, the tenderness of her naivety. She bit his ear a little, still in silence, still measuring his heartbeat with the palm of her hand, comparing it with hers. Mal hugged her stronger, kissed her on the cheek, on the nose. Awkward. That had been the most awkward experience he ever had. When Chris said that Prim was a disaster in bed, she was playing that down by a mile. Prim wasn’t just any disaster – she was an absolute, unadulterateddisaster, to the point of almost physically harming his… private parts by biting them with too much fervor, which almost cut their time together in half – figuratively and literally. But that moment, that intimate moment they were sharing, laying naked on a cot, tangled in a sleepy awakening of sorts, was a memory Mal would never give up on. Prim’s tongue moved on his skin once again, tracking down every drop of sweat she missed the last time, assimilating it, making it part of her, before burying her head in his chest one more time, rubbing her hair against his pecs.

Awkward. That whole situation was awkward. Lymph was such a strange substance. It wasn’t completely liquid, yet it was the farthest thing from being solid. It felt more like weird slime, slime that flowed through Prim’s vascular system and fueled her natural weapons. Slime that was now sullying his folded clothes and was spread all over the bedsheets. Slime he had no idea how to wash away, if it was even possible. Mal always assumed that it had to be akin to blood, since it was sold in cans on the BM, but apparently that wasn’t completely the case. A semi-fluid slush of sorts, one that belonged to his worst nightmares. Still, if he could go back eight hours, he would have done it again. Getting to know a rhizome in such an intimate manner, a rhizome he liked and trusted, was endearing – a one of a kind chance he would have never wanted to miss, now that he lived it. But, overall, it was also a clear indication that it couldn’t work like that, among them. Their biologies were too different, even though there were several points in common. Still, Prim’s complete misconception on how human males worked (thank you, comnet forums) made that even weirder than it had the right to be. Mal played with her nose, caressed her cheek. Laying together with her after the act, though, felt great. For both. Apparently, Chris cut the mutual bonding short, making Prim crave for more of that. Which is why she was doing her best to savor the moment, in that hazy half-asleep state she was still in.

“Mal…?”

Her voice emerged from his chest, right as her tendrils started tickling him all over again. He let her do it, patted her hair once again, yawned.

“Prim?”

“How… was it?”

“Nevermore. Never. More.”

Prim closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around his body.

“Why?”

“You almost bit my cock off. You talked about bunnies all the time. And, huh… this.”

His fingers reached for the green slime spread all over her thigh, brought some drops of it in front of her eyes. Prim nodded, delved into his chest once again.

“Yeah. It… wasn’t great. Your taste is all over the place. You snore like a mountain bear. You can’t trigger my lymph releases like Mimi did. And you don’t refill. One serving and your water was gone.”

“…geez, it’s not a tap, you know?”

“…the forums were a lie.”

“…you figured just now?”

She chuckled. A rare smile, one that Prim wasn’t accustomed to wear.

“Whatever, it was worth it. This moment now… was worth it all.”

“Yeah…”

Mal pinched her nose, tapped it gently.

“…it was.”

As a form of retaliation, she bit his ear a little more, played with his black locks. Prim didn’t want that to end. Prim didn’t want to let him go. That warmth. That mutual understanding. The contact of their skins. She basked in that feeling a little longer, letting her tendrils roam delicately all over him. Her mouth left its prey, allowing her to talk again, all while still having her fingers roam through Mal’s mane.

“I know what I want to do, after all of this ends.”

“Huh?”

“A farm. A farm where to raise and breed rabbits. Of all species. All shapes. All colors. But just as pets! I can’t imagine people eating rabbits! It’s so cruel!”

She raised her hand, waved it in front of his eyes.

“Imagine, a pet rabbit farm… or maybe a rabbit café? Yeah, a rabbit café sounds nicer, right? I… just want a place full of color and bunnies. Far from war. Far from the battlefield. I don’t… want to fight anymore. I’m… not done for that.”

“A bunny café…”

Mal reached for her extended hand, entwined his fingers with hers, replicating that chiaroscuro contrast on a smaller scale. Prim liked the pressure of his hand, two organisms becoming one, she enjoyed every instant of that union.

“Well, I’m good with coffee machines. I’ll be your barista.”

Prim squinted her eyes, her voice almost missing.

“…really?”

“I’m unemployed anyway. Can’t see anything wrong with it.”

“Then… what if we call it… Café Riri?”

Mal chuckled, hugged her tight.

“I’ve made a huuuge mistake gifting you that plushie, huh?”

“…it was the best gift I’ve ever received.”

“Then, Café Riri it is.”

Their eyes locked, their lips touched, their tongues too, one more time. Their bodies weren’t made for each other, but their souls, their minds were. And that was what felt important. An emotional support human. An emotional support plant. Sharing an emotional support moment.

Under the sunlight of what could have been their last dawn.

**

Caro dipped her beak between the beautiful red petals, sucking delicious nectar out of the receptacle. Only to be sent away by hungry human lips, lips that close too around the same petals, making the small hummingbird fly around them instead, waiting for the right moment to have a go at those nutrients she craved. The first lights of the dawn had seeped into the mini-greenhouse, shining on a flower that just bloomed, still oozing with droplets of lymph. That flower, a rose, was triumphantly towering out of Lacrima’s eye socket, in a splendor that it had never seen before. Healthy. Large. Surrounded by countless sepals, with spiraling petals closing around the pistil. Mimi bit it a little more, licking the residual lymph that was still spread on that miracle of nature. Her fingers caressed it, traced its shape, formed a mental image of it so that her mind, if not her eyes, could still, somehow, ‘see’ it. Laccy’s flower. Blossomed again. Mimi felt a spark of joy going through all of her being, at that realization. Her house plant, her Laccy… had built enough lymph to repair her body completely. No, they built it, together. She licked her lips, quenching their dryness. Lacrima didn’t pull any punches, she really drained Mimi, drank her to her heart’s content, leaving her with a sore throat and the need for chugging down liters of water to replenish her reserves. Still, she had never felt better. Never felt more satisfied. Never felt more alive. Her fingers moved between her own legs, ascertaining the situation down there. It hurt a little to the touch, after having been brought to its utter limit. Overall, though, everything felt fine.

Except her clothes, that is. Her inmate outfit was nothing more than a ragged collection of scraps, ripped completely into pieces that, at times, were no bigger than stamps. Mimi, though, didn’t care. Clothes could be bought, replaced, repaired. Her time with Laccy not. That was something she wouldn’t give up, not after what they went through together. She lazily rolled on the short grass of the greenhouse, back and forth, listening to the chirps and buzzing of the two hummingbirds, the ones that Laccy had brought with her and freed from their cage as soon as she started feeding. Laccy’s newborn flower had been a prime attraction for both of them, to the point that both savored its nectar. That made Mimi groan. She would have loved to get a fix of her house plant’s lymph, but there simply wasn’t enough for her. All of Laccy’s energies, all of her lymph production, went into rebuilding her body, making her whole again. The fact that she built so much of it in one single night that even her eye rose returned was nothing short of a miracle. Mimi performed a military salute to the ceiling, with a deadpan expression plastered all over her face.

“Thank you for your service, Dr. Zonta. Much appreciated. You were the hero I didn’t deserve. A true chad. The world wasn’t ready for your genius.”

Make plant gals because you’re horny for plant gals. Make their lymph cause problems when it was too low or too high. Make them produce more lymph when they are horny. Add an emergency release system that triggers with intimate relationships. None of it made sense. Everything sounded like a sequence of stupid design decisions, put together by a weirdo that thought with his ballsack. Still, Mimi couldn’t say she didn’t appreciate part of that design process. Fixing her addiction to lymph by regularly doing a consenting hot plant girl felt like a match made in heaven. Bonus points if said plant girl took the chance to do her in turn to drink her water. A house plant and her watering can. A very crude metaphor, but one that worked in at least one direction. But what if she started having real feelings for the plant? And what if the plant reciprocated? Well, there she was. Her aunt would have been happy.

A movement among her arms, vines that started shaking again.

“Good morning, Mimi…”

“Oh, looks like my precious house plant is awake! Slept well?”

“…‘twas nice.”

Mimi caressed her flower once again, let Laccy’s head rest on her lap. Lacrima’s fingers went for her eye socket, touched all around it, hesitantly.

“…it wasn’t a dream…?”

“Nah, you blossomed like a champ, my thirsty little creeper.”

Lacrima groaned, avoided Mimi’s gaze.

“Roses are no creepers…”

“Yes, but your vines are!”

“…fair.”

Mimi started playing with Lacrima’s long white hair, letting them spread out all around her, purposefully messing them up. Lacrima did the same to her, unfastening her left braid, causing Mimi to slap her vines, to push her away, to frantically start tying back the knot.

“No. Undoing. My braids. That’s rule number zero!”

“B… but you started it!”

“No exceptions.”

Vettor, the male hummingbird, took advantage of the situation to glide in front of Lacrima’s face, to dip his beak into her flower, sucking a little bit of nectar out of it, buzzing around like a miniature helicopter under the dreamy gaze of the rhizome. Her red eye was sparkling, almost wet with tears. Hummingbirds. Her own two little hummingbirds. Feeding off her flower. Just like she always dreamed of. To think that became true during a global apocalypse that could have destroyed the world, after having been broken by her sister… it felt unreal. Too unreal. Mimi stood up from the ground, stretched a little, breathed deeply. Lacrima’s scent filled the air, mixing with the smell of flowers and freshly cut grass, in a combination that tickled her senses. Still, break time was over. Judgment day was awaiting.

“Alrighty, Laccy. We should head over to Dobrio and get dressed to impress, before we’re deployed.”

At which point, Lacrima realized something that made her more than a little ashamed. Not for herself, since she didn’t care about that kind of stuff, but she had the understanding that humans, in fact, didn’t like to be seen unclothed. Which was what Mimi was – totally exposed, because she couldn’t contain herself, when they started kissing. Lacrima cleared her throat, tried to put together the right words to form an apology.

“…Mimi, I’m – huh – sorry I ‘unpacked’ you so thoroughly. There’s… huh, basically nothing left of your… huh, stuff?”

Only to be met with a shrug.

“Whatevs. Dobrio sees me naked every other day, he ain’t gonna complain.”

“What about the other people around Kaitos?”

Mimi grinned, stretching in the other direction.

“Come on, it’s just – what? – two corridors? This thing ain’t even remotely as big as Atropos. If I meet anyone, sucks to be them. Their loss, if they’re afraid of a bit of skin.”

“You can have my robe, just ask.”

A known voice coming from the door, a known silhouette. Red robe on a black outfit, with belts and pieces of body armor underneath. This time, though, without a gas mask to complete the picture. Only her green hair, her green eyes, the shining emerald encased in her forehead. And somewhat of a livid gaze, looming on the two. Caro and Vettor returned quickly to Lacrima, landed on her shoulders, stood as far as possible from the menacing figure that had just entered the small greenhouse. Said figure groaned, heaving a long sigh.

“…good grief, am I the only idiot that didn’t fornicate like a wild animal in heat, last night? You’re already the third lovey-dovey couple I surprised in their cuddling phase. Wait, no, the second couple, because the other was a… more complex arrangement. Seriously, is that the air of this place? Isn’t there enough oxygen, so your blood all went down to your crotches? No, don’t answer. Just wear whatever you want and get ready for the briefing. You can come butt-naked, for what I care. You have fifteen minutes sharp.”

“Wait, no breakfast?”

“Breakfast time is over by half an hour! You should have, I dunno, cuddled less and woken up sooner! Or, you know, setup a goddarn alarm clock!”

Mimi wore a smug expression, one that said everything and nothing at the same time, in front of Robin’s bewildered gaze.

“Sounds like someone’s salty, here. I’d be salty too, if I were the only one who didn’t score.”

Robin ignored that last remark, waved her hand in a scorned gesture. Seeing Mal and Primula coming out of the same room together was already a huge hint that something had happened among them. Finding Lacrima and Chris going at it in the greenhouse wasn’t that big of a deal – after all, she was already aware of their parasocial relationship. Yet, surprising Agave and Felce – yes, both of them – sneaking out of Dobrio’s room earlier that morning was where she drew the line. Somehow, that last one made her unreasonably angry, for reasons she couldn’t completely point out. One certainty remained, though: the fate of the world hinged on a bunch of horny plantfucking monkeys, who couldn’t even resist one day without yielding to their primitive cravings. All while she spent all of her night tracing every single path in the solid-state archives of her deceased friends, building the most perfect mental map of the seedship she had ever put together, one in comparison to which every previous blueprint paled. Yes, while everyone else was fornicating, she was doing their job, as if she were the only person who somehow cared about their current situation. For a moment, a long moment, she considered sabotaging the mission and have Lagash have her way, deleting that useless iteration of mankind that usurped the place her mankind had. Still, that would have meant betraying her siblings, betraying her kind, betraying all she fought for the the past two centuries. And, doing that because of a smug snake that was openly mocking her, was probably a bit of a disproportionate retribution.

Inhale. Exhale.

Robin focused on the result. On the end goal.

Inhale. Exhale.

Yes. That was not important. It was absolutely not important that she had been passed over by every single living being that shared days on a dumb space station with her, while every single plant had a very eventful night. That didn’t sit well with part of her. Still, that had to wait. It was almost time. Time to finish it. Time to reclaim their planet.

Maybe, that was the reason why she felt so angry, after all. It was fear. Fear that everything was for nothing. Fear of having used her last night on the planet for her mission, instead of enjoying life for one last time. Fear of being left alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled.

The stages was set. The pieces were ready. Everything else was now a question of following the score, playing by ear only when there was no other option. She crossed Chris’s blind gaze, a gaze that hid a whole world from her, a gaze that was still, somehow, bathed in sadness. That smugness of hers had to be a way to cope. A way to prepare herself psychologically to what was there to come. Robin took a mental note of it, before shrugging too, walking towards the small door again.

“…whatever. Just take care of being in the control room as soon as possible and be sure to listen to everything carefully…”

She pushed the gas mask on her face, fastened it around her nape, pulled up the hood of her robe.

“…because there won’t be a second time.”