Netahiln and Habithi's Story: Flight

Netahiln's triumph was short-lived.

The next morning, Habithi was not at breakfast. Since Netahiln had been out late-- celebrating, probably stupidly, but she'd needed the release, and felt she had a right to congratulate herself for once-- she hadn't been in when he came home to sleep. Apparently he'd left earlier than she'd gotten up. She spent a moment frowning at the empty kitchen, where the smells of balefire and scales were old. Too old. But then, her nose wasn't as reliable when she had a hangover. She wasn't going to worry, since she could always just check his thoughts to make sure he wasn't getting into trouble.

Except, she discovered an hour later when she felt awake enough to try, she couldn't.

Or, she could, but they were so faint that it hurt to stretch her mind that far, and she couldn't really make sense of them, anyway. It felt like trying to reach Kalaia had been, when she was on the Twisted Fate waiting for the hatching: like he was too far away to reach.

... too far away to reach.

Oh, no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no.

He had left the station, gone who knew where, and she couldn't reach him to find out! He could be anywhere, he could be gone somewhere else by the time she figured out where he'd gone-- she could well never get to him, because she still couldn't travel magically any farther than a single deck on-station! In the face of something she didn't have any sort of plan for, that she hadn't even expected to have to deal with, Netahiln couldn't help it: she panicked.

And apparently some habits died hard, because in her panic, Netahiln found herself stepping-- scuttling anxiously, more like-- out of a shadow behind none other than Kalaia Tenat. Her first bond, her hatching bond, her chosen bond. The now-twisted, 200-year-old little girl who she watched from a distance whenever she had the chance. Who she hadn't said more than three words to in the past three months-- and those entirely on accident when Kalaia caught her watching. Whose life she'd ruined in the stupid hope that she could make her more like Netahiln herself, even though she had actually liked her perfectly well exactly as she was... and hadn't realized that until too late.

Who, by the by, was out of the apartment today, out for a walk along one of the fake-grass parks on the residential decks with her ojee pets, or she'd never have managed getting to her. Gavin had had the magical locks replaced after Habithi had ruined the spell, and had conveniently forgotten to include Netahiln in the "allowables". She didn't blame him in the slightest. She didn't live there anymore; she wasn't welcome.

Kalaia turned around at her appearance, twisting a little at the waist, then turning the rest of her with an awkward, pin-footed gait... because she had four spider-legs now instead of two human ones. Her brown eyes were wide with surprise, and her two tails lashed and flicked. Charity, at her side, started to growl. The many-tailed ojee pup they'd adopted-- up close, she smelled enough like Charity that she might have been related-- growled, too, from her perch on Kalaia's shoulder, though that was a rather less dangerous sound, coming from a pup's throat.

Even so, at the sight, Netahiln back-pedaled a little, realizing where she'd run, and fluffed her wings defensively. It had been a long time since she'd gone running to her bond when she'd gotten into something she couldn't handle, or when she'd messed something up, or simply because she'd been frightened and not wanting to admit it. It wasn't like she'd ever expected Kalaia to do anything about it-- she usually never even told her what the problem was-- but somehow it was just what she'd done as a pup, because Kalaia would hug her and pet her and say she loved her. Even when she hated hearing it, because it was so sickeningly sweet, it still made her feel better. That she'd done the same thing now, come running to her child-bond after everything, and even though she was well on her way to being adult, was... embarrassing. Not to mention stupid. Of course she wouldn't be welcome, after what she'd done, and after three months of almost total silence after that.

::Sorry,:: she mind-muttered. ::I didn't mean... I'll go.::

"No, wait."

Before she could slip back into the darkness and make herself part of it-- before she could call up darkness to make herself part of-- Kalaia spider-foot stepped over to stop her, one tail curling up over her shoulder and the other flitting left and right behind her, like a cat's. Netahiln watched her move, a little fascinated and a little sickened, and her flesh twitched when she felt a small hand-- a whole hand, not the one Habithi's balefire had mutated-- stroking the fur of her foreleg. She'd grown a bit since she'd left home... and Kalaia was closer to the ground than she used to be.

"I haven't seen you in a while," Kalaia continued, eyes on the metallic fur rather than on her face. "At least stay a minute and talk to me."

Netahiln wanted to disappear-- wanted to turn away from her mistake-- wanted to turn back time so that she'd never bonded at all. But more than that she wanted Kalaia to keep petting her, and maybe hug her around the neck and bury her face in her fur.

Maybe she was pathetic. With a little whine in the back of her throat she crouched down and ducked her head under Kalaia's arm, and the girl obligingly put her arms around her neck and rested her cheek against Netahiln's forehead. The ojee-pup dove down onto Charity's back, rather than get any closer to the "evil dragon", as she was sure she'd been described in the past, and though Charity had stopped growling, she didn't look very happy. Netahiln ignored her, because Kalaia was scratching behind her ear and under her chin, just like she used to.

Except not quite just like she used to, because one hand was a claw, so it felt different. That realization-- that remembering-- killed the faint purr that was starting, and she drew back, shaking her fur back into place.

"I hope you're doing all right," Kalaia said, actually looking up at her now. She looked a little older, though she hadn't really grown any, like a child would. Maybe it was just because she wasn't smiling so readily anymore.

::Well enough,:: Netahiln shrugged, looking away from her face. Guiltily.

"With Habithi?"

Accusation? She growled at the sound of his name, but as much at the unfamiliar note in her bond's voice. ::Not that we share anything more than a roof and my credit, but yes.::

Kalaia nodded once. "I haven't seen him at all." There was an unspoken "good riddance" in her face.

::You're not missing much,:: Netahiln grumbled.

"You don't like him."

That was surprise, though why Kalaia was surprised, she had no idea. They were still bonded, and even though Netahiln tried to keep her thoughts away from Kalaia's, she expected there had been bleed-through in the earlier days, before she'd started training her mind. Well, might as well clear away any confusion.... ::I hate him,:: she replied flatly. ::I do everything I can to make his life a living hell.::

A frown pinched Kalaia's brows together. "Neta'... be careful. He's dangerous."

Concern, after everything she'd done to her? Well, that was stupid of her. Sweet... but stupid. ::I'm always careful. He hasn't dared to do anything to me yet.:: Except ruin her life, but maybe he thought that was enough. ::If I'm smart,:: she added with a toothy grin and confidence she didn't quite feel, ::he won't be able to at all.::

Kalaia wasn't fooled, and she reached up to stroke back the fur of her brow, still mussed from being rubbed up against her tunic. Netahiln wanted to close her eyes and nuzzle up to her bond's chest again, accept a little comfort and affection before she left her again for however long it would be-- forever-- but she really shouldn't... she really, really shouldn't....

"Why did you do it?"

She'd almost whispered it, but Netahiln heard the pain in it and drew back again. ::Because I'm stupid,:: she growled. ::I've gotta go.::

"Come see me again," Kalaia said. "Next week, the same time. Here, again, maybe."

::I shouldn't. I might be working, or busy, or--::

"Please. I miss you."

No, she didn't. She couldn't. Netahiln had been nothing but a worry and a thorn in that whole household's side. But.... ::I'll try.::

Kalaia sucked on her bottom lip as Netahiln backed up another few steps. "I still love you, Neta."

No. No, she didn't.

::Good-bye.::

Netahiln disappeared, escaping back to her empty apartment, and wished Kalaia hadn't been lying. Because she couldn't possibly have been telling the truth. But even so, the lie was reassuring, the visit had still made her feel a little better. The panic was gone. She could think again-- think, not just feel. All because she'd seen someone she cared about.

Maybe she was pathetic for caring, but maybe Habithi was pathetic for not wanting to care.