Pax isn’t quite sure when her definition of home came to begin and end with, “Wherever the girl who swallowed the sun lives,” but it doesn’t exactly feel wrong when she tests it out on her tongue. Home is walking hand in hand down a deserted shortcut; it is pouring over case notes, spread out over the kitchen table and scattered across the floor, while Miriam sings over a pot of soup like she’s enchanting it; it is the gentle press of Miriam’s lips against Pax’s temple to wake her from a doze. Home is pulling Miriam into a kiss right in the middle of the street, right in the middle of a thunder storm, and having the girl who swallowed the sun kiss back like she’s trying to spread that sunlight into Pax’s own cold body. Home is finding that she finally doesn’t mind letting herself be warmed from the inside out.
Her right side feels cold, empty without a warm body pressed tight against her. Her hand feels empty without wingers twined together. There is a strangeness, an alienness to the sensation of needing someone so close after so long without the affection of another friendly face. Out in the Flats there is nobody but oneself, but in Midian City it is nearly impossible to turn without bumping into another human being just as desperate to keep moving. Pax isn’t sure that she can understand a world in which she finds comfort in the kind of casual embrace that Miriam partakes in as if it were her first language.
(Mod: And with this post, I will now slowly start to resume GR’s Story - she’s sleeping long enough by now… so expect the next update to continue where the Story stopped the last time… to get back into it, check this link to see the Story in a chronological order so far: Story so far! )