Welcome to Gaia! ::

A sense of justified accomplishment had been present in every cell of her body since she opened her eyes, and it was in that endorphin-driven high of success that Mimsy found herself completely incapable of progressing her work for the day. It seemed a bit contradictory for a victory to be the reason for failure, albeit a minor and temporary one, but it was for the simple fact that this was a cause for celebration in this moment - not continuity.

With no concerns that she would not finish what she started, she tended to her experiments and subjects just well enough to ensure that they would be properly ready for her when she returned the next morning, and set off towards home again.

An entirely different vein of experimentation consumed the remainder of her day, as she meticulously measured ingredients to utmost accuracy, following the directions of those more experienced with food as if she were attempting to recreate the detailed methods of more experienced scientists. Assuming no room for error meant that she made it all much more difficult than it had to be, but for every bit as tedious as it was, she found herself reassured of its perfection.

By the time the table was set, the array of enticing scents produced by this hard work had already begun to permeate the air around their home by way of the (purposely cracked) windows, allowing some time for her to perfect her own presentation. She changed into one of her newest dresses, unwound and re-braided her hair into a single loose braid, and pinned a flower from their garden at the top of it.

Satisfied that this was probably enough effort put forth into physical appearances, she stepped out onto the porch, where she sat to wait patiently for Robert to come home.






Kind of patiently.

A smile met Robert's reaction, held steadily on him as she stood and moved to meet him. Though she still fell a bit short of properly understanding why he responded in that way to seeing her, it was undeniably pleasant to know that just the sight of her elicited such a thing.

"What sort of picture?" She inquisitively tilted her head as she reached to take his hands, fingertips passing lightly over his skin before she tightened her grip. The attempt to then pull him towards her resulted in pulling herself towards him, and she snorted at how predictably wrong her own endeavor to defy physics had gone, before clearing her throat to speak again.

"These sorts of details are important to qualify, you know," she pointed out, expression turning expectant. "One might erroneously presume that it is a picture of someone else, and that would be more messy than flattering."

And not at all as funny as speaking in jest might imply.

"But I digress." Another insistent tug on his hands got her nowhere again, and she settled on feigning further patience while staring up at him. "You have done an extensive amount to deserve my welcome, and I would be pleased to compile an itemized list for you, but all prior and subsequent greetings would have and will have fallen short of this one, if this welcome were based entirely upon your merit. As I would rather not consistently fail your standards in such a method...let's attribute this to the breakthrough that our hard work has achieved."

There was a visible energy behind the eyes that met his, a spark that tended to accompany some sort of progress or discovery. Whatever it was, she seemed to hardly be able to contain it.

Once he opted to qualify his statement as she'd urged him to, there was not really a wrong answer, aside from stating that he was referring to an image of another woman. Mimsy assessed his elaboration regardless, listening carefully as she pieced together a semblance of the concept in her mind. Creativity was difficult for her, particularly when it was not structured by theories or numerical values, but the description was simple enough to imagine. There was an added sense of pleasure in the fact that he chose a starscape in favor of some perception of the human form, and she gave a firm nod of approval before attempting (and failing) to subtly drag him inside again.

"Yes, in a sense." She paused, blinked up at him, smiled, and leaned up to abruptly kiss his lips. Though contextually ill-timed, she thought it to be a necessary interjection - he'd kissed her, and it was critically important to return that.

"It is one portion of the surprise. Excellent deduction. Congratulations!" Another pause for another kiss, for an entirely different reason. "And the other portion..."

While the look of excitement had been more objective before, she looked very pleased with herself now. With a little shuffle of her feet, which might have seemed shy if not for her grin, she moved to lean into him, still clutching his hands between them.

"I have spent the majority of our time apart on a whole meal, consisting of multiple courses, for the greatest of all husbands." That's you, her pointed look said. "Come and see! I will share the news of our success while you eat. I think that you will enjoy both portions of this surprise very much!"

A slow nod of faint confusion followed his apparent disbelief, but she had no time to ask about the potential of any doubts about himself that might have caused him to present those questions - or even finish nodding - before she was scooped up and carried over the threshold and through to the kitchen, all while she basked in his praise for her.

"Well, yes." She leaned her head against his chest and peered upward, smile still playful, but considerably less self-satisfied. "If I were not, I would not suit you well in the slightest!"

To continue to prove exactly how much 'the bestest' she was, she stretched out to reach towards the table, in an effort to pick up one of the deviled eggs near the edge. It would have been a much simpler task, had she just slipped out of his arms and walked to fetch it, but the trend of the day's decisions seemed to follow a sense of idealized sentiment rather than simplicity.

She managed it nonetheless, and the look of pride rapidly returned as she held it in front of them, pleasantly fed it to him, then worked to retrieve another.

"I intended to wait for the second portion, but I have too much difficulty hiding a secret from you." This was generally completely untrue, but in the case of a secret that happened to be information she'd always intended to tell him, she had used up all of her patience. "As you can surely recall, you told me that you saw Clarice, which led us to initiate a search for her. Were you satisfied with the results?"

In what might have seemed to be a counterintuitive tactic for someone waiting for an answer, she hastily stuffed the second egg into his mouth. Then she smiled so quickly that her teeth snapped together, and tried to look the part of an innocently doting wife.

While Robert sat and ate what was offered to him, she just continued to smile, reaching with considerably greater ease for each subsequent mouthful. After a third egg, Mimsy abandoned the use of her bare hand in favor of a fork, and jabbed its prongs into a bite-sized portion of marinated beef from another small dish. She was selecting each dish in no particular order, but it wasn't the order that was important: every single food on the table was a food that naturally contained a notable portion of tryptophan, which would in turn be converted into serotonin, which would in turn mean a happy and amicable response to anything she had to say.

She hoped. Food science wasn't rocket science, but that was kind of the problem, leaving her to rely on high school biology.

"I agree." A quarter of a roasted red potato was next onto the fork. She took a tiny bite before tilting it towards him. "But I wouldn't say that we were entirely unsuccessful. I think that Clarice took note of our efforts. And I think this because she spoke to me, not long after you left to attend to your work."

It was her turn to sit very still, holding her breath as she waited for his response, so she might know how to follow in pursuit.

The strategically timed pause had been intended to elicit a reaction, but she had not quite anticipated the one she actually got. Mimsy choked out a gasp as she dropped the fork, which struck the side of the table and clattered loudly against the floor, and met his wide-eyed stare with her own.

"What?" Right. Right. Clarice. "Ah, well. She..."

This had all seemed like such a flawless plan - and it might have been, had she actually taken the time to process and classify every little detail of their meeting, rather than expending all of that effort on a tactical approach. It didn't feel very tactical now.

"I did see her, and she did return to speak to me, but..." Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall where it had been, and how they had spoken, but the edges of those particular points of information were too hazy to be undeniably correct.

"We spoke extensively about you." This much was accurate, and returning to something assuredly factual encouraged her confidence. "That we need each other, and that we function so excellently together. She told me that you hated her, before I knew you. We talked about your strength, and--and mine."

Or lack thereof.

Her gaze flickered briefly away, but went right back to his eyes, searching for affirmation before she continued on.

A small laugh broke Mimsy's silence.

"Yes," she agreed, touching one corner of his smile. "You are applying yourself very well. She is right to feel proud of you. I know that she must, because I do."

Feeling the weight of him pressed against her as he tried to reach the food, she shifted to sit more snugly against him, allowing just enough room for him to lean forward.

Because this was where she needed to employ the distractions. This was the portion of the retelling that she'd been afraid of. As pleased with herself as she felt, as incredible as it was to be able to believe that approval for her work, as nice as that grisly corpse's accepting smile had been, she could not forget how badly her entire known world had reacted the first time she'd cut into someone.

She could not forget sitting still in a backyard as blood dried, then flaked off of her hands, understanding only that she was a failure and a monster.

"Well." She exhaled, heavy and burdened with waiting spores of anxiety, until she'd emptied her lungs. Then she slowly filled them again, bit by bit, taking in the comforting scents of the food behind her, the mild air house around her, the familiarity of the husband in front of her. The details of all that failures and monsters weren't allowed to have, as far as humans were concerned.

"I told her that we had been searching for her," she explained, looking just past his eyes. "I told her that we could help her, if she told me how. She said that it was not so simple, and that it required a--a quest?"

Her eyes met his for a brief instant, checking for signs of recognition, before breaking away again.

"She gave me a scalpel. A key." She stopped to shake her head, as if it might realign the recollection. "No...no, it was both. Simultaneously a scalpel and a key. She instructed me to finish what I had begun. And I did! I followed where she led my hands, and followed the guide on her skin, from here--"

Two fingers began to draw straight lines across his chest as she spoke.

"--to here, to--" And down, and onward, reenacting all that she had done. When she reached his cheek, the faintly trembling fingers did not continue any further, leaving the very last incisions untouched.

"And then...then she smiled." She sighed, laced with unsettled laughter. "I did it. I did it precisely as it was supposed to be done. I made no errors. My performance was not flawed. And she smiled, and--and I understand why she is so important to you. I understand how nice it feels, when someone like her is proud."

While she waited for the information to process, all excitement fading with his first long exhale, Mimsy struggled to avoid a venture into all of the possibilities branching from this moment, reminding herself with each second that the next second would provide her with an answer. That she needed to wait only one second longer, just one, one more.

When the second he spoke finally came, she stiffened in his arms; 'I don't' was a disconcerting set of words, and she stared at him with wide eyes that begged please a thousand times over. She didn't have to theorize to know what was coming.

But she'd have been wrong, and she was never more accepting of that fact than she was right now.

"Yes, I...of course." A slow nod, sluggish with a dread she was failing to combat. There was a dormant portion of her that would have been wholly unsatisfied with his reaction, that would have punished him for daring to alter another of the rules, and it fought a futile war against a tightly sealed lock. "Clarice informed me that there is power in symbols, and qualified that statement by adding 'here most of all' - while I remain uncertain as to the intended meaning of that claim, I am confident that it was a largely metaphorical encounter."

It was all honest, because she truly thought they might be on the same page, if a few paragraphs apart.

"Besides," she murmured, fingers moving lightly over his cheek to bury themselves in his hair. "She has granted me the ability to make progress. To move forward. Repeating this experiment would mean regressing, and I want no such thing. I made an unforgivable mistake two decades prior, which I have found myself incapable of rectifying. But I have! It was perfect! And even more so now, because you...you..."

You did not lose that light in your eyes.

You did not let me go.

You did not refuse to understand.

You did not strip me of humanity.

You did not yell.

You did not cry.

You did not leave me alone with the knowledge that I was irredeemable for my failure.

She voiced none of these things, because the instant her assurances stopped, she surged forward to kiss him, with such force that the chair rocked and threatened to tip over backwards.