//UNDER CONSTRUCTION

independent roleplay blog. selective multimuse any questions or requests can be left in the ask box.

[clvsterfxck-blog]

notice

ok so, as you've all probably noticed, I am SEVERELY behind with replies and there's a reason for that. I've been sitting on this decision for a few days but I'm going to be going on an indefinite hiatus. I just don't have the muse for a lot of these characters anymore, if it returns I will be back, but at the moment, I'm not going to be here. I only seem to have muse for two characters at the moment and they can both be found on their separate blogs at prettycxnfident and cormiier (I will probably restart youredxmnright at some point as well)

[ssnoot]

I wanna run away with someone in the middle of the night and go on adventures and see the world and eat at cheap truck stops and sit on top of our car and look at the stars. 

[obvscosima-blog]

Cosima is already closer than she wants to be, already standing toe to toe with the woman she had hoped not to encounter. And though she was the one to pull away, she is the one frozen now, standing utterly still–unblinking, unmoving. It is like that dream all over again, like the fog of her mind has somehow become part of reality, for she cannot seem to think clearly. Delphine’s movement shakes her from her stupor, and she leans back, fists her hands; her mind races overtime, franticly wondering, deducing–what is Delphine doing?

She does not recognize the folders at first. They are from another time, a time filled with bloody palms and stolen wine–those days seem so far away, though she knows it has hardly been any time at all. Her eyes widened, incrementally so as to hide her surprise; but her efforts at subtlety are ineffective, for she cannot stop the gasp that escapes her lips. This is more than she had expected, more than she had hoped for.

“Okay.” It is all she says at first, and it is all she plans to say. Yet she reaches out, helpless to stop the motion, and wraps her fingers around Delphine’s wrist, pulls it toward her. “Let me see,” she whispers. “Let me see it.”

[clvsterfxck-blog]

It’s like a weight’s been lifted off of her chest when Cosima agrees. She’s about to make what’s possibly the worst decision of her career, but she can continue to treat Cosima, and that’s all that’s playing on her mind. The contracts mean nothing in comparison. Before long, slender fingers are at her wrist again, pulling it closer, pulling her closer. She glances up from her desk, moves even closer to Cosima and rolls her sleeve up to her elbow, her wrist on display for the clone. 

The numbers are indeed gone, by this point nothing to indicate they were even there other than the faded scratches from years gone by. “It’s relieving, actually. I know that I am not fighting against whatever controlled these numbers by...remaining in love with you.” She allows herself a second, to relish the moment, to try and remember what if felt like to have Cosima’s touch on her skin regularly. 

She exhales shakily, reaching for the contract closest to her, which just so happens to belong to Cosima. She’s in charge here, she can do what she wants, but that doesn’t mean topside is going to like it. With a quick, confident movement, the contract is ripped in half, both halves placed on the desk. “You are free to make your own decisions. Tell your sisters that they are too. I will report to topside...tell them that we do not own you anymore.”

[obvscosima-blog]

Her eyes are not shut–not yet–but they are getting there; lids lay low over tired eyes, and Cosima regards Delphine with lazy affection. She snorts, shifts slightly on the couch to pull her legs up to her chest. There is a beat of silence before she stretches her arms over her head, readying herself for movement. “Mm, no music, though,” Cosima murmurs–yet she stands anyway, will too weak to do anything but. It is only when she is near Delphine–near enough to brace her hand on the other woman’s forearms and sink into her touch–that she breaks into a grin. “You’re so cute.”

[clvsterfxck-blog]

She’s quick to support her girlfriend, her arms holding steady, until they wrap around Cosima’s waist, pulling her close. “We don’t need it.” She grins. “Maman paid for dance lessons at a very young age, I can lead without music.” Without missing a beat or skipping a step, she breaks into a gentle rhythm, as if it’s built into her body, moving Cosima slightly this way and that. “Mon amour.” She whispers, though the moment is bittersweet. Cosima is weak, and she knows that better than most, she’s seen the small changes in the way she acts, the way she does things, and it does nothing but break her heart.

[obvscosima-blog]

Cosima doesn’t pull her hand away. This, somehow, feels like an achievement, or if not an achievement, a failure; it is frightening how she has so readily lost the ability to tell the two apart. It is what she told herself she would do–move, should Delphine come searching. Leave, should Delphine come looking. And yet she doesn’t. She stays. She holds back a flinch but releases a puff, a gasp, at the trace of Delphine’s thumb over her own. “Yeah,” Cosima says finally. She cannot help but notice the words Delphine uses–I’m aware–and it stings; she wills the pain away, reminds herself she wants this “Fine.”

Her steps are light on the floor as Delphine leads her to the door. It is odd, for she is used to heeled boots, heavy shoes that come with heavy steps. She is used to having a presence, having a reason–and here she feels entirely small. 

The chill of the evening air helps–helps her lungs, helps her mind. Yet Cosima cannot help but feel like a child under scrutiny, and she readies her defenses immediately–she does not like belittlement, does not like the way her mind leaps immediately to defend herself. She feels like here, with Delphine, with DYAD, she is constantly on. Her eyes narrow, and Cosima pulls her hand out of Delphine’s, busies it by pushing her glasses up her nose, acts like it isn’t to escape the closeness. “They didn’t need to know. And don’t say they were trying to help, because that’s bullshit.” She shrugs. “It’s whatever. Not like a pee sample’s going to help me anyway. It’s just a progress marker. Don’t need a creepy invasion of my privacy to tell you where I’m at.”

[clvsterfxck-blog]

She can’t pretend it doesn’t sting, having Cosima pull away from her so readily, but she scolds herself. “You knew how bad it was getting, you knew that you could not hide from this.” Delphine stops herself from going any further, knowing that if she continues, it will only end up causing another argument, and she’s already got this far, to have Cosima leave and go back inside would be devastating. She unlocks her car and climbs into the driver seat, leaving Cosima to get herself inside. 

She longs, more than anything, to be able to wrap her arms around Cosima, if only just one more time, to tell her that even though the two had torn themselves apart beyond recognition, she’s still fighting her corner. Perhaps not in the most obvious way, but her heart still lies with Cosima. “Ready?” Her head doesn’t turn, and her movements are stiff, she’s uncomfortable and it’s obvious enough.

[obvscosima-blog]

“Yeah, well– Love just sucks like that, I guess.” Cosima can hear the bite in her own tone, and she is helpless to stop it; she does not want to be bitter, to make things worse than they already are, but she is just so frustrated. She is the romantic here, she knows–she is the one who believed, or who wanted so badly to believe. She is the one who spent so long convincing herself that the numbers didn’t matter, couldn’t matter, that now that they do she has a hard time trusting them, trusting that the long line of zeroes on her arm, on Delphine’s arm, isn’t some cruel, cruel joke. “So you were cool– with us not being soulmates? You were cool with us, with us, like… Not talking about it, ignoring it. You were fine loving me because you knew it– it wasn’t going to last, or something? But now that the numbers say it is, now what? Now you actually have to act like it?”

She stops herself before she can get too angry, before she can say something she’ll regret–that is what she does, she knows. Aims to hit. Aims to hurt. Cosima lifts both hands to grip Delphine’s forearms–initially to push her away, though she doesn’t; she pulls her close. She lets her eyes slide shut, and she ignores the way they squeeze, instinctively blocking out the world around.

Cosima feels like a series of pieces, of parts, all moving in different manners: her forehead moves forward to rest against Delphine’s–”I love you too,” she whispers; her fingers stroke, blazing patterns onto fabric-covered arms–”But I– I…” She stops short, pulls away, holds her hands up like a shield between them. “Does that change anything? You loving me, me loving you– That’s not enough, Delphine. That’s not what this is about. I wish– I wish it could be. I wish that’s what mattered, you know? But it’s not. Even you loving all of us. You need to apologize. You need to, to stop. Stop lying. Stop– Stop hurting us. It doesn’t matter if your loyalties– If they’re for us, against us, whatever. We need to be able to make these choices. That’s what loving us, loving all of us, means.” It is perhaps immature. It is almost certainly immature, truly, her desire for something perfect in a world that is trying to pick her apart. But she needs desperate confirmation that Delphine is who she says she is. She needs this.

“Please,” Cosima says, and she looks away as she does so, refusing to break. “Don’t say this if you don’t mean it. Don’t say this if you’re going to lie again.”

[clvsterfxck-blog]

Cosima’s forehead is against her, the girl’s fingertips are once again travelling up her arms and for a split second, her heart swells, it fills with love and passion and longing. But it’s over as suddenly as it began and Cosima pulls back from her, firing more questions at her, like bullets through an unarmed soldier, ripping straight through and leaving a nasty exist wound. She can’t answer them, she doesn’t know what to say. There is too much to think about, too much to process, and she wants nothing but to have Cosima asleep in her arms again, instead of curling in a bed that is far too large for one person. 

“I-” I can’t do that. She wants to feel like she is doing as much as she can, if she just lets go of her power, then anything could happen, disastrous things could happen and they would be her fault. But a world without Cosima is a world that is too empty, a world devoid of laughter and colour, it’s as if the sun only shines when Cosima is there. She’s so tired of a dark world, of lonely, swirling streets in a city she doesn’t know. She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t give in and relinquish all of her power for this, it’s reckless and the worst possible business decision she could make. But, the heart wants what it wants. 

She steps back, inhaling deeply before she moves back to her desk. All in silence, she unlocks the drawer in her desk, pulling out four folders. She opens each one and removes a single slip of paper, two of them signed, two of them not. They belong to the clones, Alison’s and Cosima’s signed, Helena’s and Sarah’s both blank. “I will do this on one condition. You continue your treatment with me. I refuse to destroy these contracts without knowing that I can protect you in some way. I will keep no records of your treatment, just let me administer it.” Her voice cracks on the final world, revealing just how close she is to begging for this.

[clvsterfxck-blog]

ok i super duper promise i will get to drafts at some point this week, im such trash im sorry ive just been so so so very distracted this week 

[obvscosima-blog]

Cosima sways gently, weight shuffling from foot to balanced foot, as she listens. She cannot–has never been able to–remain entirely motionless, but when her body yearns to move toward Delphine, shifting is all she is willing to allow herself. A single cough slips through; she turns her head into her arm, shudders just barely. Nothing follows–no blood, no continuation–but she breathes in and out deeply anyway, testing the air for the telltale tinge of metal.

“Good.” Cosima does not even pause to consider whether she should be trusting Delphine, whether even here, even now, there are other factors at play. In some awful way, she is sure that there are; but she is also so done with the weight of her lungs against the weight of her heart, and while trusting easily had once been an effect of her love for the world, it is now a necessity of pure, undeniable desperation. “Because I’ll find out,” she says, and the threat is not as empty as her petulance makes it seem, as her position–all sickness, anger, head rested on listless palms, eyes made dull by too much pain–makes it seem. “You know I will. So if– your… feelings still exist, you wouldn’t lie. Not now.”

She watches as Delphine steps closer, lets her gaze drop down to the offered hand like it is foreign–like it is new, unexpected somehow even though it is nothing of the sort. “Okay. Okay. Let’s go.” She looks down like she does not know every crease on that pale skin, and when she reaches out to take it, to squeeze with the faintest pressure, it feels like giving in.

But she cannot help it. And worse, she cannot bring herself to care.

[clvsterfxck-blog]

She stands tall, physically she is stronger and more than Cosima, but that’s not how it really is. Cosima’s got the winning hand in whatever argument they were having, Delphine knows that she hasn’t a leg to stand on when it comes to these things. She cannot set a foot out of line, not even for Cosima’s benefit, and it’s difficult. It’s difficult knowing that she simply cannot breaking the rules for the woman she loves, the consequences will be worse than any alternative. “I’m aware. I need you to trust me, just for a little while.”

Cosima’s hand against her own is painfully familiar, the touch, simple as it is, building layer upon layer of memories in Delphine’s mind. But she can’t let it distract her, not when Cosima’s life is hanging in the balance. So, she settles for brushing her thumb over soft skin, offering a small, silent bout of comfort to the clone. These could very well be her ex’s last days, and she’s determined to not spend them fighting, even if it means not fighting her side, not defending herself, she’ll let every blow hit and take it. 

She leads Cosima out of the apartment, a weight lifting from her chest when they were finally out of the environment. “You’ve been lying about your test results, Cosima.” She mumbles, opening the door onto the darkened street. “Why are you trying to hide this from them?”

[obvscosima-blog]

Don’t you feel it? Yes, she thinks. She feels it. She has felt it this entire time–and she likes Shay, she truly does; Shay deserves the world, but Cosima is not able to give it to her, and the pain that comes with that is part of what she feels, is part of the tsunami that her mind has become, sweeping up anything and everything in its path and turning it all into a hopeless swarm of I feel it. Delphine is her zero. She cannot change that. Yet it feels just as hopelessly wrong as it does utterly right.

But that isn’t enough for her. The numbers on their wrists–the destiny of it all that she has always believed so readily in, logic be damned–isn’t enough. “If you don’t believe in soulmates,” she says, and her voice cracks on the last word, smack between the syllables, and she hates herself just a bit for it. “Then why does that number mean anything at all?”

Cosima lets Delphine’s fingers trail the length of her forearm. She does not pull away. The question is not one she can answer–what is she to say: yes, yes, of course she feels it, but no, because some part of her does not want to? So she swallows instead, shakes her head. Says what, to her, is even worse than a no, and blinks back tears as she does so: “It doesn’t matter if I do.”

[clvsterfxck-blog]

Cosima is raising valid points. For somebody who so avidly disbelieved in the numbers counting down on her skin, it didn’t make sense for her to be protesting that the two were supposed to be together now. She’s never even spoken about it before, why she was so against any spiritual theories. “It terrifies me, the notion of having no control over who we fall in love with.” But she’s already had her heart run amok. Young Delphine was supposed to marry another doctor, a handsome and wealthy man, and return to France on his arm, but now, Delphine’s standing in her office, pale fingers wrapped around the wrist of a woman that her heart yearns for. 

“-and the numbers. They made no sense. They-” She relaxes her shoulders, finally, blinking to prevent the tears in her eyes from spilling. “Look at me, Cosima.” Her free hand rests on the side of Cosima’s head, keeping their gazes locked. “I was terrified of them too, because they told me that it wasn’t you...how could that make sense? It has to be you, Cosima. I would sooner- sooner die alone than have my soulmate turn out to be anybody else.”

She inhales deeply, the words coming thick and fast to her, after weeks of not knowing what to say to the girl she once believed to be an illegal soulmate of sorts. “I know this does not fix anything, if anything it makes our position worse. But, I love you, Cosima. I’ve never- felt this way about another person. That is why I’m here, doing this, because this is what you wanted me to do, to love all of you equally. I am going against my better judgement and trying to keep all of you safe. My loyalties haven’t changed, I am still on your side, but I can fight better from here. For all of you.”

[clvsterfxck-blog]

obvscosima

“Come here.” The blonde extends her arm, an invitation for Cosima to join her in front of the large window beside Felix’s bed. They’ve commandeered it as their own for the time being, until she can get an apartment from DYAD, and for a small, precious moment, they’re alone. “I want to dance with you.”

[obvscosima-blog]

Cosima laughs, but the sound is not one of humor–it is a disbelieving exhale more than anything, and the pain at that realization colors her face with darkened eyes, open lips. She is not sure why she is so hurt by the first words out of Delphine’s mouth–why didn’t you tell me–but she is, and deeply so. This isn’t how it was supposed to go, because for someone so intensely scientific, so drawn toward practicality, Cosima is deeply, unerringly emotional; and she always hoped somehow that her numbers would tick down in some perfect display of love, that it would all be okay once her counter reached zero.

But it isn’t.

“Why didn’t I–?” She cuts herself off with a shake of her head, bare arm waving like the motion is out of her control–which, she thinks, it is: she wants nothing more than to control her own life, and she cannot even seem to do that. “What was I supposed to do? You were in Frankfurt. I couldn’t just, like, call you up, be like– You’re my soulmate.” Saying the words crumbles something within her, and Cosima ducks her head, chokes out a sob. “It doesn’t work like that. We were– so ready to ignore the numbers. When we were together, that’s all we ever did. Doesn’t matter that they’re different. Doesn’t matter that they’re not zero. We’re meant for this. I-If DYAD could change that… Why does my counter reaching zero matter?” 

As a clone, there are quite literally several of her–several people who share the same DNA. But it is only in this moment, standing before Delphine, that Cosima feels like she has been split in two, split between love and the worst kind of denial. Split between wanting Delphine, just Delphine–nothing but Delphine–and wanting nothing more than to leave once and for all. She doesn’t do either. Instead, her gaze locks on Delphine’s arm; memories flash by: her arm braced on Delphine’s, her fingers running up the pale skin, the scars, and it is all touch, sensation, recollection. But the memories are wrong now.

“Di–Did your—?”

[clvsterfxck-blog]

“It did.” She responds quietly, nudging her sleeve back down, so it covers up her forearm. “Cosima-” One of them needs to move this forward, one of them needs to crumble first, to give in and accept whatever they deserve, so that they could both move past this, especially as their wrists are now mapping out their future. “I love you...and- I don’t know if I believe in soulmates, that much is still true. But these numbers? They were counting down to something, to this moment. Don’t you feel it?”

She pushes herself off of her desk, crossing the room to Cosima, gently taking the girl’s forearm, her fingertips lightly tracing the place where she knows the numbers once ticked. She could map out the entirety of Cosima’s body with these fingertips, and she has done several times, she knows each curve and tiny imperfection of the woman in front of her, but has never felt more like a stranger than she does now. 

“Please tell me that you feel it.”

[obvscosima-blog]

To Cosima, this is not about her. This has never been about her, truly: from the moment she had digested the reality of her life, the truth of her origin, that was the single, solid truth that she held most sacred. She was no longer alone.

And she may be the sick clone–she can only hope that the label sticks, that there is no reason to ever call one of the others the same–but the cure is not hers. It is theirs. Her every action is theirs, for one wrong move would not just doom her own life anymore. Yet Cosima is scared. Scared of death, scared of pain, scared of loss–and it increasingly seems like all she feels is that fear, all she experiences are those fatal losses. Her mind screams at her not to trust Delphine, not to allow that possibility of a fractured heart once more. But her heart doesn’t agree, and Cosima has always–even as a scientist, even as a clone–followed her heart. 

She does not look up at Delphine; her head rests on her hand, palms sweaty and sliding, skin against skin, yet she nods. The motion is slow at first, slight–it grows in confidence as her will ebbs away.

“Okay,” Cosima says. But there are so many more words she leaves unspoken: Delphine, I’m scared; Delphine, I don’t know if you can save me; Delphine, what if one of the others gets sick too?; Delphine, I’ve been getting worse for a while, I’ve known for a while; Delphine, I love you.

Cosima doesn’t say any of them. She says, “We need boundaries. No Dr. Nealon. No reports. I don’t want my data going into some blank folder, okay? I’m not a lab rat.” And once she starts, she finds she cannot stop. “You’ll be my primary physician. Only physician. Not because you lo– I mean– It’s for all of us. Like you promised. Even if I… The cure’s the goal here. Not saving me, not necessarily. It’s for all of us. Can you… Can you do that?”

[clvsterfxck-blog]

It’s getting increasingly difficult to do so, but she bites her tongue. Yes, the rest of the clones are incredibly important to her, and she’s only in this awful position because she decided to start treating them all equally. But, there are too many emotions involved in this situation, and truly, she can’t promise anything. She’s always locked her emotions away when it came to science, but when they break through, it’s impossible to control them. She knows what her goal is with this treatment, to save Cosima above all else, but if she told the girl that, then she wouldn’t get a chance. 

“You have my word, Cosima. I will not process any of your results, nothing will be filed.” It’s probably worth more than her job, performing sensitive treatment regarding a sick Leda clone, but she’s in love. Despite the arguments and the tears and how ridiculously stubborn Cosima is, Delphine is still unconditionally in love with her, and when the woman she’s in love with is fast approaching her deathbed, she’s only doing what any human would, preserving that which she cares about most. “My feelings...they will not play a part in your treatment.” 

She finally closes the gap between where she stood and the clone, holding her hand out. Delphine longs more than anything to be able to just take Cosima’s again, instead of reluctantly holding her own out for the sole purpose of helping her up. “I will ask Scott to pack you a bag and meet us at the DYAD...and I am in my personal car, so there will be no corporate driver.”

[clvsterfxck-blog]

drinkxtrolley you diDNT RESPOND I THOUGHT U GOT BORED OF ME

[clvsterfxck-blog]

Positive!Anon challenges YOU to answer this with a nice message / compliment three Tumblr users & tag / mention them to make their day. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Pass on the challenge to the next three on your dashboard. <3

oh wow okay obvscosima (ofc you'd go first here): I don't know??? what to say?? other than I'm just so grateful you're in my life tbh I could talk to you for days on end about the universe and shit like that and idk I feel we've got this crazy deep connection because I've never been able to talk to somebody about that kinda stuff and have them not fall asleep on me, I just- I love you a lot spencer-the-wolf: KENDRA BA E. possibly one of the closest friends I've had in a long time, I'm just so happy that not only have we made disastrously successful crackships but you're such a big part of my life now?? like it's crazy I just have a lot of feelings about our friendship tbh I love you to the moon and back cloniing: ur fantastic and I miSS UR FACE WTF TALK TO ME NERDASS

[obvscosima-blog]

Cosima is small–this fact is irrefutable, undeniable, but usually unimportant, for her hands, her smile, her life grow her more than heeled boots ever could. But here, now, she is folded in on herself, hands braced on the countertop and head ducked, gaze down, body curled. Standing tall creates more areas for a blow to hit and all Cosima wants is for the bruises of fights long-building to fade once and for all.

She avoids Delphine, avoids looking and seeing and knowing that the woman’s words are true; but for all her efforts she can hear it in her tone, the truth of it all, and Cosima does not know what is worse: Delphine lying or Delphine–finally, she thinks, finally–telling nothing but the truth. 

“I shouldn’t have to.” Her voice breaks on the last syllable, a raw, aching shred of utter hopelessness. “I shouldn’t have to look back and try to– What? Figure out your secret motivations for everything. We shouldn’t even be having this conversation.” Cosima swallows, and the motion allows her time to breathe–the air tastes wrong in her mouth. “You’re… You’re trying to protect me? I hate to break it to you, but the ends don’t justify the means here. You don’t get to decide how to help me. You don’t get to decide th–that spying on me and giving my blood to Leekie and… and betraying me over and over is helping me because it’s furthering a cure. This is about so much more than that.”

Cosima drops her head into her palms, and her shoulders tremble with barely contained sobs. She is breaking–she is broken–and the only thing that stands between her and the floodgate of tears brimming is the whirl of hatred and love and some awful combination of the two that draws her to look up at Delphine. Her eyes are rimmed with angry red but they are empty; there is no emotion there, no emotion in the narrowed lips she bites. She is sick, and she can feel the shake of her lungs growing with each passing breath, and she holds back a cough with everything within her. Yet she still speaks. “You shouldn’t have come here. I don’t want your help.”

[clvsterfxck-blog]

“But you need it.” She cuts in, dropping her gaze, breaking eye contact with Cosima. She’s been studying her ex’s numbers for weeks, praying that something that Scott had been trying would make a difference, but to no avail. Knowing she couldn’t rightfully intervene was the slowest, most painful torture she’s ever heard of. Being forced to stand by and watch as the girl she loved- no, still loves, deteriorates in front of her. 

“You are right. This is about more than our mistakes. I’ve been...watching your numbers and they...they have been predicting this for quite some time, I was hoping that either you or Scott was going to pick up on it. I need you to trust me, Cosima.” She’s one step away from pleading now, her eyes shooting back up to meet Cosima’s. “Just this once. This is not about me loving you, this is not me pleading as- as some desperate ex asking for a second chance. This is me...as a medical professional responsible for a group of genetic identicals with flawed DNA, that if you do not come with me and receive whatever treatment I can give you, you will die....very soon.”

The reality is harsh, and it falls like poison from her tongue, but it’s just that, reality. “I will be your sole physician, Dr. Nealon will be under strict instructions to not touch you or your treatment. I could not forgive myself if I knew that I didn’t at least try to save you.”

[obvscosima-blog]

                clvsterfxck

Her hands are restless. They yearn to move, and she is not yet sure whether that movement will seek out the form of a dance or a punch; all she knows is that standing here before Delphine is more than she can take. It burns with familiarity–the sight, the smell, the taste she can feel so near her tongue, and it takes all of her power not to collapse forward or run back. Standing still is the hardest thing she can do.

Cosima’s right hand lifts to flit aimlessly over her left forearm; though her sleeves cover the pale skin beneath, it is a tell she has not yet been able to shake. It is a wish she has not yet been able to quell. Everyone is born with the countdown one shade deeper than skin tone, constantly shifting and morphing and living until it clicks to zero. And then it dies in the hopes that the love that can then form will live on in its place.

Her skin burns with the unspoken words that hers has reached zero. Had reached zero a long while before. Had reached zero the second Delphine appeared before her–not truly substantive but undeniably there, and even if ‘there’ is within the depths of her imagination, Cosima cannot care.

She blinks back tears, and the gesture is as futile as it ever can be, and she does not make any move to stop the red tracks burning down her cheeks. She shakes her head; she moves incrementally, in pieces–one hand up, one foot forward. Where her body used to be filled to the brim with life and giddy abandon, there is now stiffness. Exhaustion. Pain.

But she cannot leave without saying something. She is too far, too deep. Too hopelessly aware of her forearm blazing zeroes into the fabric of her shirt, and she feels as if Delphine can see it too, as if the numbers are backlit and glowing for the world to see–faker, liar, they call. Don’t pretend as if we don’t exist.

                                “I saw you,” Cosima blurts. “You were, uh– You were gone.                                 Frankfurt. I had this… This near death experience, and you                                 were there. I thought about just– letting go. It would’ve been                                 easy.” She peels back her sleeve, forearm held out damningly.                                  “But I didn’t, and I woke up, and it had reached zero. Must’ve                                  reached zero then.”

                               “Delphine, I came back for you.”

[clvsterfxck-blog]

Delphine had never believed in the numbers on her skin. She was always too logical, picking everything apart until she understood it. Her own wrist was not only littered with the darkened numbers, but with claw marks and scars, from her younger years, when she would spend night after night trying to remove the numbers, to only be met with disappointment while they continued to count down to a point in her life that she couldn’t control, something that was going to happen to her whether she wanted it to or not. As a result, she’s concerned- concerned with her numbers, watching them carefully as she walked past strangers in the street, her gaze flicking to her wrist every time she woke up, wondering if today would be the day. 

Her heart broke when her numbers never ticked down for Cosima. Their relationship came and went, and although the numbers were lower, neither of their wrists aligned, she had slightly longer to wait than Cosima. It was unspoken between the two of them during their short affair. They never mentioned the numbers, they just continued to kid themselves, pretending that they didn’t exist, and that they would always be together. 

The air is stolen from her lungs at the revelation, her arms falling from their defensive position, hanging limply by her side, the blonde not noticing as her numbers continued to tick down. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

5. 4. 3. 2. 1. The skin on her wrist burns. It burns with an intensity unlike anything she’s ever felt, it burns not only on her skin but through her entire body, sending shockwaves through her being. This is it. This is the moment that she truly meets her soulmate, that her soulmate meets her. It’s Cosima...and she could never be more relieved, but it’s far from a happy ending. It hurts.

She’s afraid to look, but curiousity gets the better of her. Her attention reluctantly drops from Cosima and focuses on shifting her sleeve up her arm, the darkened numbers have gone. 

[obvscosima-blog]

Cosima has always been–and will always be–far too noble for her own good. She knows this, logically, rationally, in some part of her mind, yet she cannot stop herself from scoffing, rolling her eyes. She cannot bite back the venom in her tone–and she cannot bring herself to truly want to. Cosima is caged, cornered, and she is willing to claw her way out. “Childis– Are you for real right now?” She inhales deeply, gathering the breath to continue. “I–I love you, Delphine. I do. But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what you did, okay? How you lied. Multiple times. That isn’t okay. What don’t you understand about that? I can’t just miraculously trust you because you say you’re good. I mean, you took over Rachel’s job. To help us–maybe–but it’s still bullshit. DYAD’s never wanted to help us. Wh–Why would that change now?”

Cosima sits still. It is a far cry from her usual vitality, her usual life; her hands are limp at her sides, and she makes no effort to stop Delphine as she lifts her arm. She does nothing at all–face blank, eyes staring off into the distance, teeth bit into thinned lips. It is only when Delphine shares her findings that Cosima moves, and she does so quickly: it requires more effort than she had anticipated to stand, but she does so anyway, and she makes her way to the counter at the other side of the room before she slumps into it, forearms braced against cold wood. She needs the distance, the space. “Stop it. Okay? Stop. You don’t get to tell me to come to DYAD. That’s not your choice. ”

[clvsterfxck-blog]

“Cosima-” The blonde begins to argue, not sure exactly why she’s pleading her case to the girl that should have always been on her side. It stings a little, sometimes, knowing that even though she was trying her hardest, she could never have fully helped the way she is without leaving Cosima alone. The words aren’t unlike knives, the way they stab and tear at her flesh, leaving it burning, leaving her entire being exposed to the world as she inhales shakily, trying to regain her composure. She has to keep up this facade, for the benefit of everybody she’s ever loved, and especially Cosima. 

“DYAD...DYAD as a whole has never had the best interests of project Leda in mind, no. Topside- they want nothing more than the ability to make more of you. But the people who dedicate their lives to protecting you...although it is not for the right reasons, they do care.” Dashing across the room wasn’t a smart choice for Cosima, it was obvious in the way that she held herself, the way she slumped over the desk. She isn’t going to follow, the clone needs the space, and that’s understandable, but that doesn’t do anything to leave her out of harm’s way. “I just wish you could see- if you would- if you would just look!”

Her voice is raised, the frustration of her situation finally manifesting in a physical way. “Look back at what I have done. Every move that I have made...think about whether it harmed you or had the potential to save you. Only you.”