Ritzky does not pace, but they are pacing the room, footfalls echoing from the vaulted ceiling. They have chosen a spot away from the stained glass windows that fill the cathedral, between the back wall and a dusty pew. You watch her with concern, notice the way her fist tightens around her cane whenever it bumps against one or the other, the perfect tempo of her steps. This is not Ritzky, you think, this is not what they do, this is not how they act. And yet here they are, in front of you in person for the first time since they visited LOWAA, and this is how they are acting.
She stops abruptly and addresses you without turning. “Any brillian|^ ideas?”
You falter, not expecting the question. Some Seer you are. “]I... I’ve just been turning it *ver in my head, trying t* c*me up with a plan—[” you begin, but she doesn’t give you a chance to finish.
“A plan,” she repeats, rotating their head in your direction. “You’re coming up wi|^h a plan. Jus|^ like you and |^essid came up wi|^h before |^his. A ]m*stly f**lpr**f plan[, you called i|^.”
You close your eyes, knowing they can't read your face but trying to keep your jaw from clenching anyway. “]Y*u kn*w that’s n*t fair.[”
“Do I? Do I, Lor|^ah?” She turns back to the wall, which is almost worse than if they had kept staring. “Wha|^ good is a Seer of |^ime if |^hey can’|^ |^ell you wha|^’s going |^o happen?”
“]If I recall c*rrectly, it was y*u wh* begged me t* st*p hedging my predicti*ns with uncertainty.[” You’re falling for their bait, but you try to at least keep your voice steady. “]I *nly kn*w what the b**ks tell me, and they tell me many m*re things than actually c*me t* pass. I did my best, but—[”
She slaps her cane against the wall. “Bu|^ i|^ wasn’|^ enough, and now |^hey’re dead. DEAD dead, Y|^orek.” Ritzky does not interrupt you, and they have NEVER called ANYONE by their last name. “Are |^hey jus|^ pawns |^o you?” she spits. “Pieces you could afford |^o sacrifice?”
“]Ritzky,[” is all you can get out before they whirl to face you, pointing her cane at your chest like a sword. It’s all you can do not to take a step back, but you stand your ground. Her cloudy pupils are trained on you, and knowing she can only make you out as a fuzzy silhouette in front of the stained glass does not make their stare any less potent.
“DON’|^ say my name.”
“]I’m s*rry.[” Their cane does not waver. “]I w*uld never treat *ur friends as a res*urce.[ ]They’re s* much m*re t* me than that, just like they are t* y*u.[ ]T* all *f us.[” They are still, their expression unchanging, as if frozen in time. “]L*msin is my m*irail.[ ]I w*uld never endanger sem.[” She raises an eyebrow. “]I d*n’t appreciate the insinuati*n—[”
“He doesn’|^ APPRECIA|^E |^HE INSINUA|^ION!!!!” she yells, slamming her cane onto the floor so hard you fear one of them might crack. “I don’|^ APPRECIA|^E |^ha|^ my moirail migh|^ be DEAD because he did wha|^ YOU |^old him |^o do!!” You start. Ritzky and Tenjhi were moirails? How much did you miss...? “How could you sign off on a plan |^ha|^ you knew could ge|^ us killed??”
“]N*thing is with*ut risk.[ ]N*thing is set in st*ne; I c*uld slip in a tunnel in L*WAA and break my neck any night, and all the b**ks in the Archives c*uldn’t st*p that, *r even warn me *f it.[ ]I tried my best, I truly did, but n*thing in the b**ks menti*ned what Lyliac did, *r...[” You’re running out of words; they flow through your head faster than you can catch them. You can feel exhaustion beginning to set in, and try to will it back another hour, to give you more time. You’re always running out of time one way or another, aren’t you?
“I am fucking SICK of your fucking BOOKS, you know |^ha|^?” You let their words flow over you, digging your mind into them to keep it working. “Ever since we me|^, i|^’s been books, books, books. Li|^|^le Lor|^ah and his libraries, always expec|^ing |^hem |^o answer every ques|^ion and solve every problem, if you jus|^ found |^he righ|^ one. Your job was |^o make sure none of us died, righ|^? |^ha|^ was wha|^ you |^old me again and again, every nigh|^ for wices, when you refused |^o even kill underlings or s|^ockpile gris|^ because you were reading—” They’re losing steam, her voice dropping in volume as she leans on their cane. “And now |^essid is almos|^ dead, and Lyliac is missing, and |^enjhi IS dead, and you’re here concoc|^ing ano|^her fucking plan.”
“]Well, what’s the alternative?[ ]We can’t change the past, R...[ ]We can’t change the past.[ ]That’s all that’s certain.[ ]What’s d*ne is, d*ne...[” Your head has started to throb. If only you could lie down right about now... “]And all we can d* is...[ ]Keep, g*ing...[”
Your foot slips out from under you, and you stumble towards Ritzky. The last thing you hear is “Shi|^, Lor|^ah—!!” and you’re asleep before you hit the ground.
You wake to the feeling of arms cradling your head, which is a novel experience only accentuated by the realization that Ritzky is crying softly. “Holy shi|^, you’re okay,” they gasp as soon as your eyes open. “Fuck, don’|^ scare me like |^ha|^, Lor|^ah.”
You crack the faintest of smiles. “]S*rry, Ritzky.[” Too late, you remember what she said about her name, but they only smile back, wide and teary. “]I was just a little tired.[”
“You fucking dumbass,” they say with another shaky sigh. “How much have you been using your |^imey powers? I |^hough|^ you...”
“]Th*ught I was supp*sed t* cut back,[” you finish for her. “]Yes, I kn*w, I g*t plenty *f earfulls fr*m L*msin ab*ut it, but I needed t* make sure the plan...[” Realizing what you’re on the way to saying, you hastily trail off. “]But I’m *kay, I pr*mise.[”
“You say, af|^er almos|^ cracking your skull open on my ca|^hedral floor,” she chuckles, resting a hand on your shoulder. “You’re welcome for ca|^ching you, by |^he way. No big deal. And no|^ |^o raise any alarms, bu|^ you’ve go|^ some whi|^e hairs up here, Lor.”
The nickname sends a wave of relief over you, even if it might not last. They don’t hate you. “]White hairs?[ ]I’m sure it’s fine.[ ]N*b*dy will n*tice.[”
“Qui|^e a few,” they observe. “Pa|^ches, even. You could always say fuck i|^ and bleach i|^ all. I |^ink i|^ would look good on you.” She grins, and you let your eyes drift closed again. “Bu|^ no, I was worried |^ha|^...”
“]Hm?[”
“I dunno. I|^’s silly, bu|^ I |^hough|^ maybe you had... burn|^ ou|^, or exceeded your limits, or...” You can see her starting to hold back tears again, and put the pieces together before they say it. “I didn’|^ wan|^ |^o lose you, |^oo.”
“]It’s *kay, Ritzky,[” you say. “]Y*u’re n*t getting rid *f me that easily.[”
“You are |^he fucking wors|^,” they chuckle. “For real, cu|^ i|^ ou|^ wi|^h |^he cra°|y |^ime accelera^ion or wha|^ever! No more aspec|^ powers un|^il you learn how |^o con|^rol yourself!”
“]Y*u knew I was awake bef*re I even m*ved,[” you counter, but this is playful banter again. The Ritzky you know, the Ritzky whose hand on your shoulder you lean your head into. “]If I’m getting Skaia’s all*wance taken away, I expect s*lidarity cuts.[”
They blush, but their hand turns to cup your cheek. “You can’|^ know |^ha|^ you didn’|^ s|^ir a li|^|^le or some|^hing. And I ge|^ |^o keep my unpredic|^able Hopey six|^h sense bs, ableis|^.” She leans forward, shoving a trademark smug Ritzky smile in your face, and your heart flutters. It’s only when you try to raise your head to close the six inches between your lips and theirs that you remember how monumentally exhausted you are. They laugh as you strain to barely halve the distance, and plant a compensation kiss on your cheek. “Keep |^rying, i|^’s cu|^e.”
“]Is that a challenge?[” you smirk, but make no further first kiss attempts. This would be a terrible time for it, too, right after your friends... Ritzky notices your expression souring, whether from the hand they have resting on your face or Hopey sixth sense bs, and turns their head away. “]Are y*u feeling *kay?[”
You know it’s a stupid question the moment it leaves your mouth, and you berate yourself for not thinking it through as she sighs. “No|^ really.”
“]There has t* be s*mething we can d*,[” you offer.
“You don’|^ need |^o say |^ha|^ jus|^ for me.”
“]N*, I’m seri*us.[ ]There are s* many incarnati*ns *f him and us acr*ss Parad*x Space, so much m*re realized in their p*tential...[ ]Surely there's s*mething we can d* with that.[”
“And |^ha|^ would |^ake a |^housand more hours of research, which in your curren|^ s|^a|^e would kill you for real. No more universe-breaking schemeing righ|^ now, no|^ un|^il you’ve recovered.”
“]*r,[” you almost manage to shrug, “]there’s the beds.[”
“I am NO|^ le|^|^ing you wi|^hin a mile of your ques|^ bed un|^il you’ve a|^ leas|^, you know, comple|^ed your ques|^. We don’|^ even know if |^hey work, or if |^here’s some hidden condi|^ion or some|^hing.”
“]But think ab*ut it.[ ]I c*uld predict things s* much m*re easily.[” ]I might have been able t* save Tenjhi,[ you absolutely don’t say. The past is the past. “]Let’s keep it *n the table, at least as a Plan B.[”
“Plan °|,” she grumbles. “Plan Infini|^y. Yes, I know infini|^y isn’|^ a le|^|^er, smar|^ass,” they say before you’ve finished formulating the thought. “No dying on my wa|^ch.” You’re about to retort with a quip about looking away when both of your palmhusks ding. You go to pull it out, remember you can barely move, and listen as Ritzky’s text to speech reads off the notifications.
-- breezyLunarian [BL] opened a memo titled “reGrOupinG” --
BL: bOth Of yOu, COme tO lOfas riGht away
BL: it’s GOOD news, DOn’t wOrry! yOu shOulD just see in persOn first
“Huh.” Ritzky purses her lips. “Can you s|^and?”
“]Maybe.[” Your limbs seem to have started to cooperate, and you extricate yourself from Ritzky’s lap and support yourself on a pew. “]I’m still a little tired, th*ugh.[”
“I would offer you my cane, bu|^ I kind of need i|^,” they roll their eyes. “|^he second we have a second |^o spare, I am personally pushing you in|^o your recuperacoon and holding you down un|^il you ge|^ a|^ leas|^ a day of sleep.”
“]Push me int* my recuperacoon and h*ld me d*wn?[ ]Tell me m*re—**f![” You reel from a cane jab to the gut, almost falling onto her again. “]P*int taken.[”
“Save i|^ ‘|^il we’re ou|^ of |^his, ho|^sho|^.” They throw an arm around your shoulder, a gesture you gratefully mimic for support, and oh, uh, kiss you directly on the lips? You will indeed figure that particular feeling out later too, but you must flush cool enough that Ritzky can feel it, because she cackles and ruffles your hair. “Le|^’s no|^ keep your moirail wai|^ing.” With a nod (against their head, so she can feel it) from you, the two of you set out unsteadily towards the transportalizer.