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Authors: S. Reesa Herberth, Michelle Moore
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particularly ugly twist. “Who else would deal with something evil besides the church? Our aunt certainly didn’t want the taint on her family.”
“Denny’s not evil,” he protested, sick at the thought of a couple of kids being tortured for something the rest of the empire accepted as merely unusual.
“Yeah, well, he’s not normal either. Normal people don’t talk to the dead.”
It wasn’t the time to rehash their old argument. Her prejudices were based on her upbringing, and there was no way around that, despite the fact that those same prejudices made her constantly fear for her twin as well as deny her own particular talents.
She smiled fiercely, a savage baring of teeth. “And now you’re wondering what the fuck this has to do with anything. It’s just that it was obviously a catalyst in your life as much as it was in mine. Something you’ve suffered for.” He started to protest, but she kept on relentlessly. “You’re getting better, and obviously something’s been a catalyst for that. This Ducks person. Don’t waste that.”
I thought it would come back in a crisis. I really hoped it would. That I’d just snap back to who I was.
Riv let Ducks keep typing, resettling himself on his bed to ease the ache in his neck. It had been a long day in the pit, and he seemed to have spent most of it twisted at odd angles. He’d come back to his room after a quick shower and found the waiting vid request, and all his good intentions of an early sleep cycle had vanished. They’d been talking for hours, and he didn’t want to say good night until Pryce was ready to go.
If I never find my voice again, I guess I could always become a really gifted mime.
Riv snorted a laugh to match the humor he saw on the screen, but he couldn’t help feeling unreasonably morose over the idea of never hearing his name come from the mouth that still managed to convey so many emotions, even without a sound.
You look like I kicked your puppy.
That jerked him out of it, and he forced a smile. “Sorry. It was a long day. Don’t mean to be a downer.
I just think you deserve so much better than that.” And as soon as he said it, as soon as he saw the confused and slightly worried look on Ducks’ face, he wished he’d gone to bed after all. “I’m sorry. I—”
The thing is, Riv, even if my voice comes back, it doesn’t mean I’ll be normal again. I might never be all better. I still can’t stand people touching me, unless I know them, and I brace myself for it, or unless I’m so used to them that they don’t scare me anymore. And whatever you think I deserve…Riv…fuck. He got up suddenly, disappearing from the camera entirely, only to come back into view at the far side of the room,
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S. Reesa Herberth and Michelle Moore
pacing with his arms wrapped around his chest. Riv sat up, ignoring the painful cramp in his shoulder and leaning closer to his vid screen.
“Pryce, I’m sorry. Damn, I should just shut up sometimes. I’m sorry. I have no fucking right to say anything like that to you, to push you into anything.”
Ducks looked over at him, shaking his head, and his mouth moved for a second before his frustrated resignation drove him back to the keyboard.
You didn’t do anything wrong. A beat, with Riv leaning on the edge of the table under his screen like it was holding him up entirely, and Pryce’s fingers brushing the keys but not exerting any pressure, leaving them as mute as he was. Riv, what do you want from me?
He could deny it, or change the subject, but an honest question deserved better than that.
“I want whatever you think you can give me. I care about you.”
This time the silence dragged on for almost a minute, a long painful grind of time where Ducks refused to meet his eyes. And when he finally began typing, his gaze never left the keyboard. What if I don’t know what I can give you? I’m not who I was. But I don’t know if I’ve changed that
“Denny’s not evil,” he protested, sick at the thought of a couple of kids being tortured for something the rest of the empire accepted as merely unusual.
“Yeah, well, he’s not normal either. Normal people don’t talk to the dead.”
It wasn’t the time to rehash their old argument. Her prejudices were based on her upbringing, and there was no way around that, despite the fact that those same prejudices made her constantly fear for her twin as well as deny her own particular talents.
She smiled fiercely, a savage baring of teeth. “And now you’re wondering what the fuck this has to do with anything. It’s just that it was obviously a catalyst in your life as much as it was in mine. Something you’ve suffered for.” He started to protest, but she kept on relentlessly. “You’re getting better, and obviously something’s been a catalyst for that. This Ducks person. Don’t waste that.”
I thought it would come back in a crisis. I really hoped it would. That I’d just snap back to who I was.
Riv let Ducks keep typing, resettling himself on his bed to ease the ache in his neck. It had been a long day in the pit, and he seemed to have spent most of it twisted at odd angles. He’d come back to his room after a quick shower and found the waiting vid request, and all his good intentions of an early sleep cycle had vanished. They’d been talking for hours, and he didn’t want to say good night until Pryce was ready to go.
If I never find my voice again, I guess I could always become a really gifted mime.
Riv snorted a laugh to match the humor he saw on the screen, but he couldn’t help feeling unreasonably morose over the idea of never hearing his name come from the mouth that still managed to convey so many emotions, even without a sound.
You look like I kicked your puppy.
That jerked him out of it, and he forced a smile. “Sorry. It was a long day. Don’t mean to be a downer.
I just think you deserve so much better than that.” And as soon as he said it, as soon as he saw the confused and slightly worried look on Ducks’ face, he wished he’d gone to bed after all. “I’m sorry. I—”
The thing is, Riv, even if my voice comes back, it doesn’t mean I’ll be normal again. I might never be all better. I still can’t stand people touching me, unless I know them, and I brace myself for it, or unless I’m so used to them that they don’t scare me anymore. And whatever you think I deserve…Riv…fuck. He got up suddenly, disappearing from the camera entirely, only to come back into view at the far side of the room,
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S. Reesa Herberth and Michelle Moore
pacing with his arms wrapped around his chest. Riv sat up, ignoring the painful cramp in his shoulder and leaning closer to his vid screen.
“Pryce, I’m sorry. Damn, I should just shut up sometimes. I’m sorry. I have no fucking right to say anything like that to you, to push you into anything.”
Ducks looked over at him, shaking his head, and his mouth moved for a second before his frustrated resignation drove him back to the keyboard.
You didn’t do anything wrong. A beat, with Riv leaning on the edge of the table under his screen like it was holding him up entirely, and Pryce’s fingers brushing the keys but not exerting any pressure, leaving them as mute as he was. Riv, what do you want from me?
He could deny it, or change the subject, but an honest question deserved better than that.
“I want whatever you think you can give me. I care about you.”
This time the silence dragged on for almost a minute, a long painful grind of time where Ducks refused to meet his eyes. And when he finally began typing, his gaze never left the keyboard. What if I don’t know what I can give you? I’m not who I was. But I don’t know if I’ve changed that
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