Arc 6 | Chapter 242: Bad Aim? Good Aim?
Emilia hadn’t meant to land on top of Hyr when she sparked back to her dorm room—honestly, she hadn’t even known anyone was in her dorm, and a quick search through the location data on everyone indicated Hyr was the only one there. Odd.
Still, she had promised them she’d be back with the heavy implication that she’d be back on their lap soon, then, between chatting with V and Professor A, had never gotten to it, instead heading off to visit Malcolm and Olivier.
“Hello,” the syn said, peering up at her from the couch they had been lying on—seriously, her aim had been exceptionally bad on this spark, she’d meant to end up in the bedroom.
“Hello,” she said back, suddenly very aware that she was only wearing a shirt when the northerner’s hands landed on her thighs. A thumb rubbed over the scars across the one, tracing the jagged shape of them.
“War…” the syn said, their eyes flickering closed as their fingers dragged over her most noticeable scar from the war. “Echo… new?”
“Mm…” Emilia agreed as they traced the second, newer scar, still tender from the night before.
It had been healed up with the brutality of a war medic—fast, effective, not very pretty. While most of her scars had eventually been treated off the front lines, allowing them to fade until they weren’t visible at all—or were only visible to someone who knew where they were and was actively seeking them out, as Olivier had done just minutes earlier—she’d never bothered with the last scar she’d ever received. Pushing up, so she was sitting on top of Hyr, rather than laying across their chest, Emilia examined her new scar properly. They looked good together. The last scar of her old life, the first scar in a decade, each marking a new beginning—a crossing that seemed to suit each other.
“How do they look?” she asked, tugging the hem of her shirt up enough for Hyr to examine them.
“Like they were meant to be there,” they said, fingers tracing each of the scars once more before trailing elsewhere, and—
“Ah… sorry,” Emilia squeaked when the syn’s fingers dragged over her still damp skin, Olivier having inadvertently—or maybe it was purposeful, who knew—wiped his fingers off on her.
Hyr hummed, and—
“Stop that!” she squeaked, grabbing the northerner’s hands when they rubbed their fingers together, testing the consistence, and—
And it took a lot of Emilia to find herself embarrassed. She’d walked through parties naked to make a point, after her clothes had been swiped while skinny-dipping. She’d had frank talks about sex with numerous people and had long ago gotten over any embarrassment when it came to what she liked in bed. This, though!? Watching Hyr—an innocent baby who knew very little about sex—examine her fluids? This was straight up mortifying!
Had it been someone else, it would have been fine. Conrad? Funny, especially since the man would probably have made the sort of disgusted face worthy of photographing. Payton just would have asked if she was safe or needed anything. Stars, there were a dozen people she knew who would poke and prod her or flip their positions so they could have a go with her.
Hyr, though? Hyr, who blinked up at her with innocent, questioning eyes because they clearly had never had another person’s sex fluids on their hands?
Yeah, Emilia was going to die—burn up with embarrassment or just simply explode.
“You’re red,” the syn noted, which did not help. Definitely did not help.
“I… yes. Sorry.”
The northerner cocked their head, hand falling to land on her thigh again. “Why are you sorry?”
Motioning at their general position of Hyr lying down and herself accidentally straddling them—seriously, how had she even landed like this? Sometimes, Emilia wasn’t convinced the aether wasn’t just fucking with her as punishment for everything she’d put it through—she muttered something about landing on them without underwear on, while still wet from having sex.
The syn’s eyes trailed down her, and oh fuck, they hadn’t actually realized she wasn’t wearing underwear—maybe hadn’t even realized she was wet from sex!
Could this get any worse?
“It is fine,” Hyr said, thumbs rubbing circles into her skin once more, a gentle stream of energy reaching into her, dragging her embarrassment down into a low simmer. “Is this alright?”
It took Emilia a long moment to realize they weren’t talking about the energy moving through her, Hyr’s hands having shifted until their thumbs were hooked under the hem of her shirt. They blinked at each other, Emilia still wondering if she’d misunderstood. Surely, she must have? There was no way Hyr, innocent little northerner that they were, was asking if it was okay to… what? Look? Take a peek?
A smarter person would clarify—ask what they wanted and what in the world the two of them were doing in general. Something between them was weird. The way she had felt Conrad’s energy slip deeper inside her—hiding away—while she let Olivier touch her while Hyr’s—which had remained connected to her since her nap—had simmered where it was, bubbling and reacting as she got off.
Emilia had never really considered herself a smart person when it came to anything sex related—the only thing safe she did was never hook up while intoxicated, and that was only because over forty years later she was still traumatized and made extra sure to never put herself into a situation she couldn’t get out of even with people she trusted implicitly. Even she had to admit, however, as she whispered out a soft, “It’s fine,” that this was on the stupider side of things.
Hyr lifted her borrowed shirt, golden eyes taking in the shape of her.
Yeah, this was bad. So very bad. The way the syn was watching her, that wasn’t just clinical curiosity at seeing someone else naked. The way her body squeezed and twitched and melted when their knuckles brushed her pubic bone, preparing itself for sex when it had so recently been perfectly fine with that single orgasm she’d gotten from Olivier was… it wasn’t bad. Complicated. Complicated and frustrating.
“Hyr—” she started to say, only to cut off because, of course, that’s when Pria and Conrad burst in… assuming she could call the other occupant of her dorm politely opening the door bursting in.
“Fuck,” Pria yelped, catching sight of Emilia sitting astride Hyr, the northerner still clearly looking at her pussy. Her roommate turned and bolted into the kitchen, yelling something about how they’d agree to not have sex in the living room anymore. Emilia had never had sex in living room—that had all been Pria—and as much as she and Hyr weren’t having sex—looking didn’t count as sex, right?—her roommate deserved to walk in on her fucking in the living room after all the times Emilia had wandered in to find her kneeling between some girl’s legs.
At least she’d ended up there by accident—Pria and her dates just didn’t make it to her bedroom.
Conrad just frowned, eyes taking in the scene the way a grumpy older sibling might, his eyes staying safely trained away from what was happening with her shirt while also seeming to take in the entire situation.
Yup. Apparently, things could get worse.
“Shouldn’t you be packing?” Conrad asked, walking over and manhandling Emilia off Hyr, and yup, she’d left a wet spot on them.
Seriously, how was it that the moment her knots were as sorted out as they might ever be, she’d somehow found herself falling right back into being the misbehaving, horny person she’d been most of her life? A brat—it was what she’d always been, even through the knots. It had just been more contained the last decade, rising and falling in waves and turns.
This full force nonsense hadn’t happened in a while, though. It was refreshing. Emilia had missed being a creature of chaos, but she also knew she could be highly annoying. It took a certain type of person to tolerate her, another sort entirely to keep her under any control—she hadn’t been kidding when she told Payton he’d need to deal with her volatile emotions and uncontrolled ADHD. At this rate, everyone was going to be sick of her by the end of the week! And, Emilia could still feel the energy and chaos rising within her! It hadn’t even peeked yet! Awesome.
Well, everyone except Samina was liable to be sick of her. Her childhood friend was just as crazy as she was. Coming out of this with one friend might be the best she could hope for.
The door to her bedroom, where Conrad had dragged her after removing her from Hyr, was almost closed when Pria gasped. “Fuck. You’re huge.”
Conrad, who had followed her into the room, frowned, while Emilia just cringed and hoped Pria had just noticed how tall Hyr was for the first time—sometimes, her roommate wasn’t the most observant, so it could very well have been that.
Unfortunately, she was closed into a room with someone just as chaotic as she and Samina could be. Hm… maybe she would actually have two friends left by the end of their vacation. “Was the little syn big?” the man asked, snickering when Emilia honestly told him she had no idea—she’d landed more on the northerner’s stomach than their hips, and while she’d somewhat assumed Hyr was biologically male, she actually had no physical proof of that fact.
Pulling her shirt over her head, Emilia was tempted to huck it at her friend’s laughing head, but it was Olivier’s, and as much as stripping in his office had been worth it, she had rather liked wearing his clothing. Throwing the shirt at Conrad seemed wrong, and instead she set it on her bed, intent to pack it for the trip—it was very comfy, the fabric clearly high quality, and might very well become her go-to sleeping shirt.
“Not going to ask?” Emilia said, sorting through her clothes, figuring out what to pack and what to wear.
Conrad snorted as he examined her room, looking over the few trinkets she had from her years at Astrapan, nothing from her past, save the bedspread, to reflect what her life had been like before meeting Beth and drunkenly deciding to apply to the school.
“I don’t need to ask to know you have no idea what’s going on between you and the syn,” he said, taking a seat on her bed and beginning to fold the clothing she tossed there. A second later, she threw him her travel bag as well, realizing it was a lie to think of the bedspread as her only reminder of her previous life: the bag had been a gift from her father, back when she was still a child, stuffing her few belongings into it before being taken home for the first time. It had stayed with her, through the move, class and friendship trips, her gap decade, and the entire war.
Once, there had been a logo on the side, but it was long faded now, the seams fraying, fabric stained and torn in places, stitched up haphazardly by herself and others. One section featured a large, embroidered motif, courtesy of James, who had taken to crafting to relieve stress after the incident with the Giant of Andir.
Did he still craft? Or had he found another way to cope with his trauma? Emilia had no idea, and while that was entirely her fault, her heart still seized at the reminder of how little she knew her friends anymore.
Conrad’s fingers brushed over the fine threads that made up the motif, his eyes telling her he knew exactly which Free Colony the techniques originated in. He said nothing of it, instead packing her bag and discussing what had happened while she was away.
“What? Why?” Emilia asked when he told her that Samina had agreed to give the two remaining tickets to Professor A.
Conrad shrugged, muttering that he didn’t really know. “She was pretty secretive about what they were talking about. Only told us after she finally let us out of the practice room that she’d given them over to him.”
“Weird…” Emilia said, pulling on a pair of tight, dark grey shorts and a gauzy, purple top that glittered in the right light. The ship would have climate control, but in the meantime, it was still freaking hot on campus. “Whatever. I trust Sammie.”
“Seriously?”
“I mostly trust Sammie,” she amended, sitting beside Conrad so he could unwind the braids from her hair. They looked cute, but clearly Hyr hadn’t meant for them to look purposeful enough to leave them in. Later, she’d see if they’d be into braiding her hair for real.
“You need to talk to them,” Conrad said, tugging a knot free before shifting them so he was on the other side, his hands gentle as he worked the braids free.
“Who says they know what in the world is going on between us more than I do? I’m the older one, and even I don’t know what to make of it,” Emilia sighed, cringing when the reality of just how big an age gap there was between them settled into her mind. It was all legal, but still… “It’s just… weirdly natural? To want to touch them, to let them touch me—and I don’t even mean in a sexual way!” That said, Hyr’s fingers grazing over her pubic bone, brushing her hips and thighs… the feel of their eyes on her…
“They’re a syn,” Conrad said, as though that explained everything. “They see more than anyone else, and given how powerful that kid is, I imagine they see a lot.”
Hyr had also told her that seeing for her might not work, though. Back in the raid, they’d made in sound like she was… weird. Emilia had a few guesses as to why—mostly having to do with how much she’d fucked with the aethernet during the war—but she needed to actually ask them about it. It was one of several conversations she needed to have with the syn, although learning that Nyren raided from Olivier, she’d also sent a message off to her, asking if they could meet up to chat sometime soon. According to Olivier, Nyren didn’t wear her temporary Censor often, so it would probably be a bit before the pyr got back to her.
Figuring out which things to bring up with Hyr before and after talking with Nyren… that was a whole other thing to deal with. Most of those questions, however, could wait until after the trip. On the other hand, whatever weird thing was happening between them, Conrad was right: they needed to talk about it sooner, rather than later.
Emilia glanced back at Conrad. “Where’s your bag?”
“Back home. I’ll go grab it.”
Then, the man was gone, and Emilia was left sitting with a nicely packed bag. Partially packed—she still needed all her bathroom crap. Better get to that.
They didn’t want to be late.