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[liuli]

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AQUILA | as a bat.

[liuli]

this memory is strange, because something about it is wrong.

you're plunged into almost pitch darkness, immediately. there's no image. there's nothing to see. not only that, but it is almost completely silent - you can hear muffled noises, like you're underwater, and the occasional word that's sharper. you're used to this, though. as you apply your focus, you can hear a word or two. you can fill in the blanks. you're used to it.

... however.

the world around you is filled with sensation. haven't you ever noticed?

the room you're in smells like a variety of essential oils. it's warm, a little humid - you can detect chlorine, the faint smell of running water, even something just barely fishy. that's the lowest layer. shampoo. scented soaps. beyond that - nearby, you smell a bit of flowered perfume, a familiar scent that's a little sharp, a little dangerous. a little bit of gold, like jewels, like coins. you smell something warm, like the embers of a hearth, closest to you, something inviting, something you've sought so much comfort in. grave dirt, a little further away, something that smells like death, but familiar, crisp and cool. the next closest; incense, lavender, a bit of wine, something heady, a scent that's helped you relax over the weeks and helped you sleep, not that you'd ever tell the person that.

every time someone moves, you feel it. the faintest brush of wind against your skin triangulates your location. you feel the warm, ember smell person move against your lap, you feel her moving something - her hand, and you twitch your fingers so her palm presses against yours, and pull them to your mouth, pressing your lips to her knuckles. you feel the way she relaxes.

the incense smell is close by, too. that person shifts, you feel it, and they lean a little against you, the three of you so easily close. you've become used to this sort of affection, now, in the best way that you can, and the both of them send flutters through you that make you a little dizzy, because you're so unfamiliar with the concept no matter how good you are at lying about it. you close your eyes and you smile, and you focus every bit of your energy on paying attention to the world around you in the way you only know how to, as you've done for a week.

it could be your last night like this. you intend to enjoy it the best that you can.

(it won't be your last night, though. you just refuse to allow that possibility. you have planned. you have laid your trap, and you will be successful, no matter what the night you'll be awake has ahead. you want to enjoy these fleeting little moments so much longer, and you'll be damned if you don't.)