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Zamaya, empty house, fluff.
Jul. 6th, 2019 12:22 pmvia https://ift.tt/2RYYsXu
Zari’s twirling in the middle of the huge, empty hallway, her eyes screwed shut, her arms flung out wide.
She hears Amaya laughing as she descends the creaking staircase. “Are you having fun there?”
“Oh yeah.” She grins and doesn’t stop spinning. “I,” she says, beginning to pant with the effort of not falling over, “used to do this all the time in our house in DC.”
The next laugh is closer. Amaya’s apparently at the bottom of the stairs. “You were a strange child, weren’t you?”
“Yup.”
“Clearly you should never have stopped,” comes the wry reply, now even closer.
…No. She shouldn’t have.
Zari pulls up short, stumbles a little, and almost goes down— and then there are strong arms around her, Amaya’s martial arts reflexes coming in handy once again. Zari opens her eyes to see her girlfriend’s warm smile. “Hi,” Amaya says, her voice still amused, and then she frowns, running a hand down the side of Zari’s face. “Hey. What is it?”
Zari shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Come on, we’ve got this haunting mystery to solve, or Sara will have our asses.”
“No, wait,” Amaya insists, pulling Zari back where she’s trying to walk away. “The mission can wait - it’s hardly life or death.”
“Haunting. Definitely at least death,” Zari says, in an apparently-obvious attempt to deflect.
Amaya doesn’t fall for it, narrowing her eyes at Zari. “Did I say something wrong?”
She shakes her head softly as she trails her hand along the bannister railings. Rattle rattle, go the old wooden joints. “No. I just got a bit lost in a memory, that’s all.” She laughs under her breath, feeling Amaya’s eyes on her as she starts twirling again, slower and with her eyes open this time. “That house in DC was the last house of our own we ever lived in. Last time I really ever got to play, you know? Then it was refugee camps for a bit, and then squatting with friends in the resistance, and… institutions, and stuff.” Her voice has taken on a false light note. She shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter.”
“Of course it matters,” Amaya says, after a quiet moment. And then she smiles, grabbing Zari’s hand. “There was this game we used to play…” She gets that focused expression, the one that usually means she’s translating from Zambesi. “Chihwande-hwande. Closest translation is ‘hide and seek’, but it’s not quite that.” She pulls at Zari’s arm. “Come on. I’ll show you!”
Zari aims a doubtful look at her girlfriend. “Amaya. Mission. Focus. We don’t have time for a silly game. There might be actual ghosts in this house, or knowing our luck, more likely demons. They probably want to eat us alive. I’m good with avoiding that.”
Amaya keeps tugging at her arm, frowning when Zari stands her ground. “Ugh, fine, you’re right. But okay, how’s this? We find the ghosts-that-might-be-demons, John can swoop in like a superhero in a cape, since that’s his favorite game, and then we’ll get Ray and whoever else wants to join us. The whole crew. You can scare Mick, annoy Sara… it’ll be great.”
When Zari just looks at her even more doubtfully, Amaya grins, and starts spinning in the middle of the empty hallway. Screwing up her eyes, throwing out her arms, and twirling with far more grace than Zari could ever command.
“You’re not gonna stop till I say yes, are you?”
“Nope.”
Zari laughs out loud. She leans back against the bannister, taking in her graceful, stunning, and ridiculously sweet girlfriend, with her face screwed up adorably tight, her lithe arms an easy ripple of muscles. Her girlfriend, who’s one of the kindest people Zari’s ever known. “You’re really something, aren’t you?”
“Dizzy, is mostly what I am.” But she doesn’t stop spinning.
Zari’s right there to catch her when she starts to fall.
“Good reflexes,” Amaya says, before Zari kisses her. At least partly to shut her up. Well, they do have a mission to get on with.
If they linger a moment before heading off on the ghost hunt, it’s only because it’s a very good kiss.
Zari’s twirling in the middle of the huge, empty hallway, her eyes screwed shut, her arms flung out wide.
She hears Amaya laughing as she descends the creaking staircase. “Are you having fun there?”
“Oh yeah.” She grins and doesn’t stop spinning. “I,” she says, beginning to pant with the effort of not falling over, “used to do this all the time in our house in DC.”
The next laugh is closer. Amaya’s apparently at the bottom of the stairs. “You were a strange child, weren’t you?”
“Yup.”
“Clearly you should never have stopped,” comes the wry reply, now even closer.
…No. She shouldn’t have.
Zari pulls up short, stumbles a little, and almost goes down— and then there are strong arms around her, Amaya’s martial arts reflexes coming in handy once again. Zari opens her eyes to see her girlfriend’s warm smile. “Hi,” Amaya says, her voice still amused, and then she frowns, running a hand down the side of Zari’s face. “Hey. What is it?”
Zari shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Come on, we’ve got this haunting mystery to solve, or Sara will have our asses.”
“No, wait,” Amaya insists, pulling Zari back where she’s trying to walk away. “The mission can wait - it’s hardly life or death.”
“Haunting. Definitely at least death,” Zari says, in an apparently-obvious attempt to deflect.
Amaya doesn’t fall for it, narrowing her eyes at Zari. “Did I say something wrong?”
She shakes her head softly as she trails her hand along the bannister railings. Rattle rattle, go the old wooden joints. “No. I just got a bit lost in a memory, that’s all.” She laughs under her breath, feeling Amaya’s eyes on her as she starts twirling again, slower and with her eyes open this time. “That house in DC was the last house of our own we ever lived in. Last time I really ever got to play, you know? Then it was refugee camps for a bit, and then squatting with friends in the resistance, and… institutions, and stuff.” Her voice has taken on a false light note. She shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter.”
“Of course it matters,” Amaya says, after a quiet moment. And then she smiles, grabbing Zari’s hand. “There was this game we used to play…” She gets that focused expression, the one that usually means she’s translating from Zambesi. “Chihwande-hwande. Closest translation is ‘hide and seek’, but it’s not quite that.” She pulls at Zari’s arm. “Come on. I’ll show you!”
Zari aims a doubtful look at her girlfriend. “Amaya. Mission. Focus. We don’t have time for a silly game. There might be actual ghosts in this house, or knowing our luck, more likely demons. They probably want to eat us alive. I’m good with avoiding that.”
Amaya keeps tugging at her arm, frowning when Zari stands her ground. “Ugh, fine, you’re right. But okay, how’s this? We find the ghosts-that-might-be-demons, John can swoop in like a superhero in a cape, since that’s his favorite game, and then we’ll get Ray and whoever else wants to join us. The whole crew. You can scare Mick, annoy Sara… it’ll be great.”
When Zari just looks at her even more doubtfully, Amaya grins, and starts spinning in the middle of the empty hallway. Screwing up her eyes, throwing out her arms, and twirling with far more grace than Zari could ever command.
“You’re not gonna stop till I say yes, are you?”
“Nope.”
Zari laughs out loud. She leans back against the bannister, taking in her graceful, stunning, and ridiculously sweet girlfriend, with her face screwed up adorably tight, her lithe arms an easy ripple of muscles. Her girlfriend, who’s one of the kindest people Zari’s ever known. “You’re really something, aren’t you?”
“Dizzy, is mostly what I am.” But she doesn’t stop spinning.
Zari’s right there to catch her when she starts to fall.
“Good reflexes,” Amaya says, before Zari kisses her. At least partly to shut her up. Well, they do have a mission to get on with.
If they linger a moment before heading off on the ghost hunt, it’s only because it’s a very good kiss.
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