Heart-Shaped Wedge


colette_icon.gif tasha_icon.gif

Scene Title Heart-Shaped Wedge
Synopsis Colette cheers up Tasha after the conversation with her parents — with light and words and more than words.
Date May 8, 2010

The Lighthouse

It could have gone better — That would be an understatement. Tasha knows that Colette is somewhere in the Lighthouse, waiting for her return, hoping for the best with her optimistic heart. Tasha remains huddled for an hour until her sobs have subsided, along with the swelling and blotching of eyes and face. Finally, she stands, moving to the metal sink to wash her face of the briny tear stains, steeling herself with a long, shaky breath before heading to the door.

The youngest of the children have been put to bed, and the older souls loiter here and there, reading books or playing games. Tasha peers here and there, but sees no sign of Colette, so she heads to the room they've been moved to now that Gillian's back and things have been shuffled to account for one more adult amongst them and the now 'official' relationship between Colette and Tasha.

Tasha taps lightly on the door with short nails, in order to give Colette a warning she's entering the room, just in case the other girl is talking to someone — Juni or Sable or Gillian — that she shouldn't be privvy to. "It's me," she says quietly, her voice a bit raw from crying, before she pushes the door open, eyes somber as she seeks Colette.

Light isn't what Tasha expected to see on opening the door to their new room, not like this anyway. The illumination that spills over the room isn't something as mundane as electrical lighting, or even the ambient glow of a space heater, it's something from another planet— or at least it looks that way. Ribbons of bright blue and lavendar twist through the air, suspended in still-life and neon radiant. Thin strings of jade green wind in coils that pulse like fiber-optic filliment, making wavy patterns above a seat of undulating orange and red bubbles filled with neon green fish.

In the center of this glowing menagerie is a leafless blue tree made from sharp, thin panes of light, looking like a leafless apple tree bearing a single vibrantly colored piece of semi-opaque fruit on one bowed branch. The apple stirs at Tasha's voice, splits like a flower to reveal glowing orange petals inside that then spills out a tiny neon butterfly that flutters through the air, popping the glowing bubbles with its movement, letting the neon green fish free to swim through the air.

Colette is seated cross-legged on the hardwood floor in the middle of all of this, her back to the door and shoulders slacked, forearms resting on her knees and hands limp. She turns on hearing Tasha, though belatedly, and with a visible effort closes her eyes and causes all of the luminous imagery begin to dissolve into firefly-like motes of purposefully green light.

"Keeping myself busy, um," Colette turns, lifting up one leg and planting a foot on the floor as she takes a knee, "while you were— talking." Hoisting herself up to stand, Colette turns fully, forgetting she has her eyes closed until she sees Tasha as nothing more than blotches of color. Green eyes open, arms follow, and she's expecting a hug.

The breathtaking display of light and color has Tasha's breath catching in her throat and she lifts her eyes, lips parting in wonder and awe, reaching out to touch a coiling whirl of lavender, her dark eyes reflecting the blue tree in miniature until everything dissolves and she exhales, a wistful sigh.

She pushes the door shut behind her as she moves toward Colette. "That's the most amazing thing that I've ever seen, Colette," she whispers, her troubles forgotten as she touches one of the motes as it flutters from the air, a shake of her head. "I thought the flower was amazing but… oh, my, God. Is that what it's like in your head?" Tasha laughs weakly, stepping into Colette's arms and wrapping her arms around the thin waist, her face coming to rest against Colette's shoulder and neck. She inhales deeply, as if to gather the other girl's scent, holding the breath for a long moment before sighing it out again in a long shivering breath.

Desired effect achieved; mission accomplished.

Colette's arms wind around Tasha firmly, and the smile she offers is a gently one, hidden in the locks of Tasha's hair where lips find the curve of her ear. "Smiling's a lot better'n anything else," she opines in a whisper, nudging her nose into Tasha's hair and slowly guiding her across the hardwood floor, slow and tiny steps, taking her towards their shared bed. It's smaller than Gillian's, but it's not like the two of them need much space.

"I was eavesdropping," is the admission Colette makes afterward, holding Tasha tighter as she lifts one leg up, bringing a knee onto the bed before sliding her arms back and curling her fingers into Tasha's sweater at the collar, pulling her forward and towards the bed gingerly, "for a while anyway. C'mere…"

"This is for … me?" Tasha gestures toward the center of the room where the light illusions have faded but are still burnt temporarily into her retinas in negative, the tree orange, the whorls of wind yellow and orange, the fish now red. She lets Colette lead her to the bed, and she brings her face up to look into the other's face, a crooked smile quirking her full lower lip upward and to the left.

"They're so upset, Colette. And I was … I was mean…" The last words she said were cold and hurtful, and she regrets them already. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she swallows hard, eyes closing for a moment before she looks into the other's green eyes again, using them to steady herself. "I had to cut it off but I'm worried he's going to send people looking. I think I made things worse. I didn't think — I didn't think it was possible," Tasha whispers. "How can my life be so perfect and so horrible at the same time?" Her hands fall into Colette's squeezing them at that word 'perfect.'

It's hard to be the strong one in this situation, but at least to Colette this is familiar territory in some respects. The noise she makes in the back of her throat, tiny and weak, is the closest outward show of emotional vulnerability she offers. Right now, she knows, Tasha needs her to be the tree. "I've got it under control," Colette somewhat obliquely states, not content for sitting as she stretches her legs out and pulls Tasha down to lay at her side. One arm allows itself to be pinned beneath Tasha's neck, the other rests at the small of her back, pulling her close. Knees bend, one leg tucks between Tasha's and socked feet brush together as she leans in to place a kiss on the younger brunette's forehead, "all under control."

Brushing her nose back and forth against Tasha's, Colette squeezes her tightly, a warmly affectionate and clinging embrace. "They know you're safe, s'what matters most right now. I've got everything else covered, so you just trust me, and I'll make everything better…" she has to seem confident, even if it's something of a shaky plan.

Tasha's arms wrap around Colette and she curls closer yet, needing the warmth and the gentle reassurance and knowing that Colette needs it in return. She reaches up to brush a strand of hair away from Colette's eyes as she stares into the green depths — the same color as those fish and those motes, her favorite color since she was five years old, but now even more precious to her.

"I trust you — but what do you mean? What … you haven't had time to do anything since I went to make the phone call, so whatever you have planned is already … planned?" she asks, brows lifting curiously as she looks into Colette's face. "You didn't hear them… they're so angry. They — he wanted to send a helicopter for me. They're at the Corinthian. Together. Which is —" she waves her hand. That's a whole 'nother layer of weird she doesn't know how to contend with.

"They … he seemed worried but then he just seemed mad and I know he's suspicious. Wireless… Eileen… neither seemed to think he should know where I am… that I'm Ferry. I probably screwed everything up just because I can't fucking lie to save my life."

"I know," Colette whispers softly, letting her nose and lips wander across Tasha's cheek in small, affectionate touches, "you're a bad liar, and I know you weren't gonna' listen to me when I said you need to tell'm the truth, s'all I needed t'know to come up with a plan." There's a touch of Colette's lips at the corner of Tasha's mouth, her hand drifting up the girl's side to her hair, fingers toying with a brown lock by Tasha's ear, then tucks it behind with a brush of delicate fingers.

Leaning in to press another kiss, this time a featherlight brush of warm lips over Tasha's, Colette slides that hand behind the younger girl's head, massaging softly at the base of her neck. "We're gonna go meet'm together," she offers in a hushed tone of voice, "and we're going to be totally honest." The way Colette says that seem to indicate a little sarcasm, and the bubbly giggle she offers seems even more playful.

"You were staying with me, cause you know some of my friends. I live at Le Rivage with my dad, you don't need to tell'm that's not where we were." Then, nudging her nose against Tasha's cheek, Colette's voice becomes a bit quieter. "Then… we tell your parents I'm… you know…" of all times, now to be shy, "your— your girlfriend." It sounds strange to say, to know, to have.

Colette's giggle is contagious, and Tasha giggles as well, eyes closing at the gentle massage at the nape of her neck. "Completely, totally honest… At least about the important stuff," she whispers, cheeks blushing a little at the mere thought of telling her parents about Colette. But…

"You're right, though. I mean, it does kinda explain… everything. Me being evasive and not giving the names of who or where I was staying…" she says quietly, thinking it over. "It's… perfect and yet terrifying at the same time, Cole." Another nervous titter escapes her lips and she buries her face in the other's neck, voice muffled when she speaks again.

"I'm totally proud of being with you, and I know in theory my mom will be fine with it — but no one ever wishes that for their kid, right? Theory and reality are two different things. You're… you're so much braver than me. How did you tell your dad?" As she speaks her arms wrap around Colette again, tightly.

"I'm not brave, I'm just a li'l crazy…" Colette deferentially admits with a soft kiss to the side of Tasha's head, fingers moving up from the base of her neck to stroke through her hair, "I had an easier time telling him I was evolved." There's a sheepish laugh at that, and Colette's slim body shifts, pressing closer to Tasha and cradling the younger teen lovingly against herself. "When I finally told him, he— he laughed at me. See, my dad's job's really dangerous, and he got hurt like… in the line of work? He couldn't take care of me for a few months once, so he sent me to live with his friend Felix. He's an FBI agent, and super awesome. But um…"

"Felix— is gayer'n a rainbow." Colette practically breaks into a giggling fit at that, and Colette shakes her head slowly. "I told him first, then worked up the courage to tell my dad. I— I think he might be too… I dunno, they seem close. Like, maybe like— a long time ago they were close-close or somethin'? But— yeah— he just laughed and hugged me and stuff. I think he knew."

'Gayer than a rainbow' gets a grin and a chuckle from Tasha, but she shakes her head at the rest, leaning to kiss Colette lightly. "I don't think mine would think that. I don't… I don't even know…" she blushes a little and ducks her head again into Colette's shoulder, her lips grazing neck as she continues — easier to speak without looking into jade-green eyes — "I've never really thought of any one else — any girls — like I do you. I … after we … after you… I sort of thought about it and tried to imagine liking any other girl and it doesn't feel … It's just you…"

Her words fail her completely, and she gives a shake of her head in exasperation. "I've liked lots of guys, but you're the only girl but it's so much righter with you, if that makes sense. But I think that's because of who you are here…" Tasha's hand comes to rest on Colette's chest, her heart, "not … not some chromosome."

There's another sigh of exasperation of the lack of the right words, and she simply shakes her head. "My dad won't be like yours. I guarantee it — but maybe it will at least calm things down a little."

Eyes shut and lips part at the touch of Tasha's lips against Colette's neck and the breathless sound she makes is wordless expression of emotion, offered reflexively. It's the kind of touch that sends a chill down her spine and warms her heart, the paradoxical kind of sensation that only love can offer. Colette's embrace tightens briefly around Tasha, fingers curl gently in her dark hair, lips touch against her temple and the noise she makes in the back of her throat is a weak and emotional thing.

Despite the fact that Tasha's words make her ring feel heavier, makes the bracelet on that wrist weighty, Colette smiles. "I'm magical," Colette teases, brushing her nose through Tasha's hair gently, uprooting dark locks and breathing in the scent of her hair and scalp. "You can't help who you love, it just happens… I— I never made a conscious decision to be like this, to— to like girls. It just happened, it just…" Colette's head shakes slowly, her lips brush the top of her head in soft, tiny kisses.

"I know it's not going to be easy, but— it's the best cover we can use…" Colette hates using their relationship as a front, and wonders if that somehow classifies their relationship as a beard for the Ferrymen. No, that doesn't make any sense.

"It's not a cover if it's true, I don't think. It's just … lucky," Tasha murmurs, as if sensing the unease the other feels in using their relationship to help evade the suspicion of Tasha's Ferry activities. "Kismet. Serendipity."

She tilts her head up, as Colette kisses her head, so that the other's lips graze down her own face until her lips can meet Colette's, kissing a little less sweetly, a little more ardently, the hurt and anger of the phone call having slipped away.

Tasha's lips curve into a smile again as she presses them to the other's cheek, repeating words from so many days ago: "It doesn't matter who you love. It only matters that you do," she murmurs. "And it's okay if it's not easy. It can't be harder than… than it's been, I don't think." Her lips brush Colette's again, and she snuggles closer.

"I would want to tell my mom about you eventually — I wouldn't want to hide you. I just… I wanted to be happy and not have any disapproval cast on this just yet. It's too new and … and shiny." To use the words from her discussion with Sable.

"Very shiny," Colette offers in a small, hushed tone of voice, her lips ghosting across Tasha's in the gentlest of touches as she speaks. Her fingers slide up through the younger girl's hair, press against her scalp and curl locks between slender digits. "We'll be there, together, an' I won't let nobody make you second guess this… c-cause… because…" there's a weak noise in the back of Colette's throat, and as she leans forward it's to press Tasha onto her back.

Colette slides atop the younger girl, one elbow resting beside her head, one hand still curling fingers gently in dark hair. Lips ghost across Tasha's, feverishly warm and soft, careful though in a subtle nervousness that tenses up her body. She rests her forehead against Tasha's, closes her eyes and rests nose to nose.

"I love you," is a whisper, just for Tasha. It sounds like it feels in Colette's chest, heavy.

Tasha's eyes flutter closed at the feel of hands in her hair, and she slides her hands along Colette's back as the other lies atop her, tilting her head to nose the other when she comes to rest against her. The words fall, soft in tone but loud in Tasha's ears, clattering and frightening in one ear, delicate and longed for in the other, throwing her into an oxymoronic shiver that's both fearful and needful at the same time.

The last person who said these words, in their romantic sense, to Tasha — whispered from above, lips on her face, bodies entangled — left her.

Her heart, separated from Colette's by mere inches of flesh and bone and cotton, pounds against the other, and she can't echo the words yet, so she whispers, "Colette," with as much of her heart that she can put into the two scant syllables — how can two syllables say so much less than three. Her lips part as she shifts to kiss Colette, one hand sliding up to tangle with the other's hair while the other slides down to tangle with Colette's shirt.

This much, Colette is used to. It's uncomfortable, to have the same problem here, to have the same three very important words unable to be said back to her. It's a wedge — a heart shaped one — driven between the two at such a thin width, but a divide none the less. Tamara couldn't, or wouldn't, repeat those words back to her either, her parents would never say it to her, her adoptive father dances around them, only the sister she's grown distant to has ever said them— and she wonders sometimes if she means it.

One missing syllable can say so much.

It doesn't stop Colette from attaching herself to what she can have though, physical affection that seems to be so readily available these days, and something so so genuinely craved. The brush of thin sweater material gliding over pale skin removes one layer dividing their hearts, at least. Pale arms lift up over dark hair, falls to the wayside and leaves them closer.

Colette's breath comes warm across Tasha's cheek, down the side of her neck it's cooler, where breath blows over the wet tracks of kisses all the way to her collarbone. Fingers curl in the fabric of a shirt, backs arch to accommodate the rise of a sweater, and warm skin meets warm skin. When Tasha's sweater rises, it comes past her shoulders, up towards raised arms, then just stops just after pulling over her head. Warm fabric tangles arms, twists playfully and holds wrists together and Colette lets her nose brush against Tasha's forehead.

"No more sadness," Colette whispers to the girl beneath her, "just us."

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