Quickly, it’s clear that this room I had not even noticed on the way through before is... apparently so kind of security monitoring station. Two whole walls had a station of screens with multiple people watching them.
With headsets on and laptops at the ready. Wearing similar clothing to Kyrie, the simple almost uniform style of plain shirt over utility pants that I’d seen being sold on the Hunter’s App network.
But my eyes couldn’t focus on the people nearby. They were locked on the figures on the screens. Thousands, maybe. All packed into stacks of partitioned levels lit by low levels of light.
Families clustered in what I’m guessing are common areas on the ground, lines ford toward countless kitchens sharing als that I’m sure must be rationed based on the careful amount and quick pass-through that involved scanning so sort of identification card in front of the server.
"Trouble in grid 16 earlier. Another human making a shiv. It’s like they think they are imprisoned and not just being sheltered..."
"I’ll have the forr elected officials of the city give a new speech. Hopefully that will curtail those tendencies, but people are worried and looking to protect themselves."
"You an they are scared and looking to be ready to attack what they fear before it attacks them."
The words left my lips and turned heads in the room, as I watched only one corner of a screen. A woman rocking a baby not much bigger than my pup while sitting on a cot. Looking at the rest of her family sitting there just playing cards.
Under a single strip of light. To maintain a semblance of normalcy. When nothing about anything is the sa for them.
"I’m tired, Kyrie. Let’s go to bed."
Seeing a glimpse, from behind this show of surveillance technology, of the situation she has co back to handle... has exhausted my patience to remain here. For I don’t like this mont of twisted sympathy inside mixed with a feeling of abdicated leadership.
I don’t like that I thought I was in good company now, here in this tower. Of being *one* now with those mass of people. Humans whose tightly woven small worlds were all upended - just like mine was when I transmigrated.
Disheartened completely in myself, to find that I am at all smug. At this ’company’ I should commiserate with being shown they are in control of almost nothing. That their societal cage has grown smaller.
While mine... mine grew wider. Enough to allow to choose the responsibility of selfish survival, virtuous protection of a single child relying on , and not fret constantly about the people of a kingdom swearing fealty.
To a Princess that felt scorned by the title. By the responsibility.
By everything, always.
⧖ ☾ ❄ ☽ ⧖
"Citra? We’re here."
I blinked and realized I’d been staring at the bottom left corner of the elevator for probably fifty floors. And the Alpha of this city stood there holding the door open. Patient as always.
Waiting as always. A very soft smile erases the probing look on her face as I stared.
"...I’m very tired, too. You don’t have to worry about trying anything."
"I wasn’t. Just... just thinking."
When I stepped out, holding the child that had been in my mind, she moved with quick steps away through the apartnt. Like soone performing a familiar routine.
Checking the door to the roof I’d used earlier was locked and close. Adjusting the thermostat on the wall panel that apparently also held so other security features based on what I’m seeing now.
She tapped sothing on it and a hidden panel slide back. Her hand reached in and threw a lever before we heard a very chanical clunk sound from the lift behind .
"Disconnects the circuit. No voltage ans the hydraulics keeping the steel rods loaded against the springs are free to co out and lock into the rail slots. Immobilizes the lift entirely."
"I can’t help but feel like this was added because of ."
"It is nice for a child safety feature. Or a mate kidnapping feature? But no, this was always part of the setup. I used to always flip it when I was in for the night."
"Is that so."
No part of her looked like she was joking when she said the very *questionable* part. It’s strange that I have to feel like defending her against my own wariness, just because she didn’t hold here against my will the other tis.
> Like being thankful for the serial killer for not stuffing you in their fridge the first five visits to their lakehouse! <
"You can take my bed if you want. I can sleep on the couch."
"I don’t follow."
"Just offering you so alone ti. If you needed it."
She was already turning toward where I’d pushed her big couch against a wall when my free hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Tugged and pulled a bit more to the direction of the shipping container.
"Stop being silly. You have a bed right beside my own. You have ever since I bought the stupid thing. Why would we choose to complicate things now?"
Apparently she has no answer to that. At least for what I imagine was a count to ten. Long enough to get inside with her and start arranging our son on the bed for long enough to get ourselves ready.
"I’ve never been fully clear on the need to complicate anything between us, Citra."
My hands don’t stop moving as I smooth the bed, throw off the items I’d gotten out to examine while she was off being a leader to her people for a while.
"Don’t be stupid, either. Poking at the traps the hunter set is not very fox, Ms. Voss."
At least, I assu that’s what she was doing all that ti. But now I do have cause to believe that all she did was just spend hours ssing around, looking for ways to make figuratively crumble in her hands.
> When all she really needs to do is just touch with them. I’m more like a dry sand castle here... emotionally... than I’d like to admit. <
With the space cleared, I pivot to grabbing the only thing by the waist that belongs on that side - the only thing that ever belonged on her side of the adjustable beds. Gently, insistently leading her closer to the mattress and to my body.
"Just be sweet. Just hold to sleep. Just be Kyrie."
Her brown eyes look at , staring right into this body’s light-grey irises like there is sothing much deeper inside than she can see at a re glance. Like they are an abyss of so sort that hides a light.
Instead of just an admittedly quite pretty polished coin of tal... that is only ever good for reflecting what others want to see in its surface. Or maybe for acting as a spacer between the floor and a wobbly table leg.
"I can do that."
She answers and guides us down. Holding herself lightly over the top of as my back finds the bed. Her forehead moves down and touches mine while the cartilage of her nose spars with my own for two beats of my heart.
Then with that infuriating tease of a mont is over, she manages to roll us up together and scoot closer to the pup.
"As long as you stop thinking that you shouldn’t be Citra."
Her hand reaches over and moves him onto my chest. Letting sll his scent wrapped all together with hers at once. My lip and eyelids quiver and a slightly raspy whisper manages to be coherent enough.
"...What do you think you saw in ?"
I’m not sure if I an just now, the mont she t , or any mont since then. But I ask anyway - even though I’m not sure what I’ll do if I know.
The only thing I can be sure of is that *she* thinks she knows. Because she doesn’t answer. Just rests her face against the back of my neck while holding until I drift to slumber with worry lting away like seafoam under each of her shallow breaths.
And again, after the pup wakes us up to be fed, she holds with that sweet encouragent.
And again...
...and again...
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