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The great vacuum of space

The bags were gone, but what clothing she'd found added to her drawers and closet did not account for the amount of luggage the tiny Life had dragged into her room upon first arrival. It was a curious thing.

The stars in the dark

Astrid's attention wasn't much on the movie either, although it wasn't on Peyton, either, or at least not Peyton-as-she-was, present and real. She was thinking about how bizarrely normal this felt, how easily the old rhythms had returned despite everything strange in their life.

She liked it. She hated it. Peyton trying to braid her hair despite the fact that it was gone was both a pang and a triumph.

It was not perfect. It was perfect. It was not perfect.

She drowsed, in and out of sleep, and finally she spoke. "Do you like it here?"

The great vacuum of space

She'd been trying to move things discreetly, but try was operative. She had not been successful, and even if she had, by now the sheer quantity of missing objects--to say nothing of missing time--would need answering.

So she brought it up cheerily, catching Peyton in the hallway as she trailed still bedheaded down towards her day in the labs, as Peyton was coming back from her run, both of them headed in the direction of the cafeteria.

"I decided," she said quite suddenly, "to pick up a room. Just in case." A pause. "Like, extra closet space."

Cracks and fissues

Astrid came in singing to herself, 'cause a cat's the only cat who knows--

And she stopped, and she looked at the table, for a moment baffled before realization seeped in.

She headed tentatively towards the bathroom door, and lifted her voice above the sound of the water.

"Do I need to go beat someone up?" she asked.

The great vacuum of space

That familiar voice drew Peyton around and blinked at her sister, head drifting to one side as she took in what Astrid was saying. Picked up a room. Away from the elder Creedy, away from the alluring comforts of a full hunter's suite. Granted the small blonde had not been absent at night, but the time she spent in the room while not sleeping, or showering, was notably less.

Peyton had attributed it to falling back into the groove of Life duties, but apparently that wasn't the only thing keeping her sister busy lately.

"Oh." Not upset, but not happy either. It wasn't as if she could appreciate Astrid wanting a little room to herself, specially having spending months away, and a year and some change before that--it just seemed...sudden?

Or it was the elder girl's well buried neediness bubbling to the surface. Her desire to keep her sister close, to rekindle that fractured bond. To keep a familiar, warm body in her bed to make it possible to sleep though the night.

She didn't say any of this. Instead she smiled, pausing until Astrid had caught up to her before resuming her pace. "Let me know if you need any help."

The stars

There was a long, sleepy silence.

"You still call that place home, though."

Great vacuum of Space

"I will," she said cheerfully, but it was a nervous sort of cheer, uneasy, vaguely guilty. "And I'm not, like... going anywhere. You know? Especially my next door neighbor down there's a jackass," she added, with unwonted viciousness.

Cracks and fissures

"Yeah, well, I know that, OK, but... that's not what I asked you," Astrid pointed out, flopping down on the futon and spreading her hands towards the abandoned key. "Let's go freeze a tray of pee and put it under his door. Or I can make you cookie dough. We can't even get salmonella any more," she added soberly.

The great vacuum of space

It was comforting to know the little Life wasn't actually moving out so much as expanding her domain.

An arm looped over the smaller sister's shoulders, and Peyton leaned against her as they walked. "Oh yeah? You want me to kick his a** for you?" It was a joke, though there was a certain thread of truth to it that Astrid would recognize.

The Stars

There was, at least, this comfort (if comfort it was, and not another reason to worry): she answered immediately, drowsily. "I love you too," she said.

Whatever it was she was thinking about home and what defined it, she was clearly keeping it for later, or possibly for never.

Great Vacuum of Space

"He seems like the sort of person that'd get real bent out of shape if someone like you beat him up," she said cheerily. It was neither a yes nor a no. It almost never had been in the past, either: by and large Astrid simply made a note aloud of the people giving her problems, and let Peyton sort the issue out as Peyton saw fit. "He just woke up and seemed bent out of shape about his accommodations too," she added with a snicker.

Cracks and Fissures

It was an unusual turn of events, and it must be said that Astrid handled it with more outward grace than she felt. Inwardly she felt awkward, uneasy, and she wondered (it was not a kind thought) whether this had been how Peyton had felt for so many years when it was Astrid crying, unable to find a way to slot herself into their constantly-shifting social circles, unable to prevent herself from saying odd things, unable to be anything but alienated from everyone but Peyton, the inevitable recipient of her stormy crying.

She didn't say anything, just let her cry herself out as Peyton had for her so many times, and felt intensely guilty.

"This sucks," she said finally, a little whisper, and it was all fierce sympathy for her. "What can I do?"