"Pet," called Eve to Leila one Sunday morning, as the latter was cracking eggs to make a late breakfast.
There was always one among a handful of emotions behind using that name: affection; playfulness; their particular, cultivated amorousness. This time it was
concern. Not quite worry. But something that needed to be talked out.
So Leila paused her meal prep and turned towards her partner, expression and body language asking after the problem.
Eve continued: "Remember those nightmares you were having before your trip to the forest?"
That made Leila turn more fully around, expression going flat. "That's not happening to
you, is it..."
"No." She shook her head. "Actually, I'm not sure. Do you remember anything else happening, besides just the dreams?"
"Besides showing up one day in Spookdown and suddenly having light magic?" Leila moved to the stove, where the small overhead light by the filter fan turned on immediately -- even though it had been broken for weeks. While she somewhat messily dropped pieces of French toast into a pan, she continued, with some apprehension, "No, I don't think so. Why? What's wrong?"
Eve wheeled farther into the kitchen to start some tea, a silent encouragement for the simple domestic routine to continue as the mood in the room got more tense. "Well, I could smell you taking the bread out, from all the way over in bed." She liked to sleep late on Sundays; a simple but comforting indulgence. "And your shampoo, on the pillow... strong as if you were still there. And that's only a few. Lots of smells, but... also no color, until just now."
It was admittedly sort of beautiful to see their home come to life before her eyes, so to speak -- the curtains, the house plants, Clover's fur, Leila's face. But it was very different from how mornings normally went, and the fact that it had happened more than once now was a reason for concern.
"Eve," Leila sighed. She was stretching out the vowel sound of the name in an airy whine, a clear sign of worry and exasperation. "That's weird, but... weird doesn't automatically mean
magic. If something's messing with your senses like that, couldn't it be neurological?"
"Yes, yes, I know. I'll make a doctor's appointment, so you don't need to convince me of that." She touched her partner's arm, soothingly; Leila moved her hand up so their fingers would twine together momentarily, as her free hand moved finished toast onto a butter-colored plate. As she did so, Eve continued, "Something about this doesn't strike me as quite medical, though, so I'm going to keep looking around for other answers too."
The touch and reassurance helped Leila calm down a little, and she brushed some of her partner's hair away from her face as she picked up the plate full of toast and walked it over to the table. "I guess that's reasonable. Just promise me you'll let me know if any more weirdness comes up, okay?"
"Of course. And don't forget the syrup, pet."
Affectionate, that time.
Reply
