aimedforthemoon | (no subject)

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(no subject)

It's late afternoon - still warm, but late enough that the moon is out - and Esfir is lying on the grass, shoes next to her and pants rolled up. She's gazing up at the blue sky, one hand under her head.

The other is out in front of her and, one eyes closed, she is making the moon vanish and appear just by moving her thumb.

(possibly, she really shouldn't be doing this)

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"I," she says, "was looking at the moon."

"The moon's not going anywhere."

It's a fine night, and the grass is dry.

Her expression flickers.

"No."

He catches it.

"Hey. What?"

"I've around it. The moon."

"Must be a hell of an experience", he says carefully.

She moves off him, moves back to sitting with her legs crossed.

"You get far enough out, you can block out the Earth, too, with just your thumb."

He lets her. The mood's changed, now.

"That what you were doing to the moon when I came out?"

Esfir looks away, back stiff.

"Da."

"It's okay."

It's all he can offer.

"Picked wounds don't heal."

She shakes her head.

"You know. Doctor."

"Yeah." He glances away. "But ones that aren't clean don't either."

"I was murdered. That's never going to get better."

"Gotta find a way to live with it, if you're gonna stay here."

"I know."

"Come here?"

She glances at him, curiously, but does as he says.

He grabs her hand and tugs her down onto the grass next to him.

"Look at the stars, look at the moon if you want to. It's not over yet, there's places you can go from here."

"Even being dead?"

"Even being dead. I asked the Bar. You can't stay away for too long, but you can leave."

"Good to know."

Her tone is polite, but she's just looking up at the sky.

"You wanted to see our archives", he tries.

"I did," she answers, but there is a time-lag.

Owen's all out of ideas, now. He shifts slightly.

"Leave you to it, shall I?"

Esfir snorts.

"You don't like attention off you, do you?" This time, her answer is prompt.