Rutile smiles grimly, tapping a shard back into place. “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to learn. Perhaps you can even surpass me, with all the time available to us now.”
They meant the comment about Antarcticite’s solidity to be one of wonder, emphasizing the miracle of their presence during the height of summer. They should have known it was the wrong thing to say. Antarc’s silence afterward hangs like a fog, broken only by the clicking of Rutile’s trowel and the soft echo of voices from other rooms in the Bridge.
”It won’t be any different from being shattered.”
Rutile sits back on their heels, their hands coming to a rest in their lap as they try to think. What is there to say? Antarcticite’s resurrection is the stuff of dreams - and, they surmise now, of nightmares. The truth is that while Rutile can understand and empathize with the horror of being shattered more than most gems, they have no idea what it is like to go to sleep wondering if you will wake in the morning.
“I am sure we can arrange for a basin for you, if that would make you more comfortable,” Rutile begins slowly. Then they look up into Antarc’s eyes, their expression solemn. “But perhaps you should speak to Padparadscha about your fears. There is no comfort I can offer you that they cannot do bettter, and with more relevance and perspective. They have spent much of their life in a similar situation to yours now, after all.”
They smile then, and smooth down the last drops of glue on Antarc’s leg, tapping the cracks one more time for good measure. “There. Good as new.”
no subject
Rutile smiles grimly, tapping a shard back into place. “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to learn. Perhaps you can even surpass me, with all the time available to us now.”
They meant the comment about Antarcticite’s solidity to be one of wonder, emphasizing the miracle of their presence during the height of summer. They should have known it was the wrong thing to say. Antarc’s silence afterward hangs like a fog, broken only by the clicking of Rutile’s trowel and the soft echo of voices from other rooms in the Bridge.
”It won’t be any different from being shattered.”
Rutile sits back on their heels, their hands coming to a rest in their lap as they try to think. What is there to say? Antarcticite’s resurrection is the stuff of dreams - and, they surmise now, of nightmares. The truth is that while Rutile can understand and empathize with the horror of being shattered more than most gems, they have no idea what it is like to go to sleep wondering if you will wake in the morning.
“I am sure we can arrange for a basin for you, if that would make you more comfortable,” Rutile begins slowly. Then they look up into Antarc’s eyes, their expression solemn. “But perhaps you should speak to Padparadscha about your fears. There is no comfort I can offer you that they cannot do bettter, and with more relevance and perspective. They have spent much of their life in a similar situation to yours now, after all.”
They smile then, and smooth down the last drops of glue on Antarc’s leg, tapping the cracks one more time for good measure. “There. Good as new.”