Friday, June 26, 2020

Optic Drugs Attack Waffles #11

All they ever wanted was to be left alone. But now there is almost nowhere left to run in all the worlds.

Cash holds Dolores tightly to her chest while the artillery fire thunders far away. It never stops, and it sounds like it's slowly closing in. They're both so tired. Weary to their fuzzy souls. Dolores tries to relax for a moment, resting her bill on Cash's soft striped fur as Cash rests against the wall. Cash's large eyes scan the horizon without pause, Dolores can feel it in the little movements of Cash's chin resting on top of her head, and she feels so safe with the clawed paw around her back, but she knows the safety is an illusion.

For the ten thousandth time Dolores thinks about what either of their people would do to them if they were found, and the thought is still enough to steal the rest from her. They have no weapons, if somebody should spot them here they'd just be shot, they wouldn't have a chance, but still they keep watch. The tension builds higher and they talk about moving, keep moving. It's how they have survived all these months. But they just don't have any strength left. Cash's claws almost dig through the feathers on Dolores' back, and Dolores pushes Cash tighter against the rough stone wall. It hurts only a tiny bit. It's worth it to be closer, just be closer to each other.

The artillery gets a little closer still. A leaf falls from the large plant and it feels like their cover won't stand for long. If they had the strength, where would they even run next?

Awkward, stumbling, exhausted, out of their minds with fear and lust, both of them still more used to being alone than with other souls, still learning each others' tongue, Dolores and Cash try to talk about having sex. Their anatomies aren't very compatible and they aren't either of them close to turned on, but it just seems like how things are supposed to work. They both want so badly to be even closer, more connected, fulfilled, relieved.

But in the end they don't want to risk making what they have spoiled, awkward. They only talk about it instead, weaving a perfect fairy tale, dreaming together, crying together, laughing together.

Standing together, leaning on a crummy dirty wall in a dark forgotten corner of a planet they can't remember the name of. 

Huddling together in this timeless moment of dread, this moment where the bombs may already be on the way or maybe something even worse, wishing it could go on forever.

Perfect, unfulfilled, tired, defiant, alone, in love.




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