(ART COMMISSIONED FROM @ygoandchill. And it fucking ROCKS. ;; Thank you so much again, Luna for amazing art for my fic.)
He released her with a sardonic chuckle and no regard for how much bullshit that was, and started to walk away, past her, towards the elevator and the penthouse and the promise of a good night’s rest. Velvette watched him go and called after him the second his talon stabbed the elevator button. “Vox.”
She swallowed her pride and ran up to hug him. Maybe this was what he wanted to do back in the control room. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she was just stupid and simple and he was the only person who could understand her, because he was the only one going through it with her. It didn’t matter if everyone else accepted her. They accepted her because she did the right thing, because she fucking redeemed her soul, maybe. Vox was the one who loved her even if she couldn’t, even if everything she did was still steeped in selfishness enough to be unworthy of Heaven, as if she gave a fuck about Heaven- she only wanted Lilith. She only wanted the world she had grasped in her hands since coming here and now it finally felt, for certain, that Vox did too. This was what they had. This was what mattered. If she lost everything else that mattered to her tomorrow because she still felt this was a tenuous success, at least she’d have him- not because she’d pinned all of her ambitions to him, but because she needed him. What happened at Vee Tower a year ago couldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t survive another loss like that.
And maybe Vox- selfish, egomaniacal, stubborn arsehole that he was- had just proven he wouldn’t survive it either. A year ago Vox wouldn’t have done this for her. Fuck, a week ago she wasn’t sure if he would have. For the first time since their tower fell, it felt like their goals were properly aligned again.
He stiffened, arms pinned to his sides. She could feel the weight of his stare, the static tickling her scalp as he tried to process what was happening and it overtaxed his system. “Uh. Vel?”
Tears stung her eyes. Fuck. Fuck. She squeezed him tighter, feeling the heat of an overworked fan blowing gouts of hot air through his gills against her cheek. “Shut up, shut up, shut up. You’re a racist fuck from rural fucking Kansas and I want to drown your lily white ass sometimes, but you came through for me more than I ever expected you to.”
He didn’t speak for a long time. And then slowly one hand came to rest on her head, carding through her curls, the silicone tips tickling her scalp. “Yeah, well, what was I supposed to do? You’re my best girl.” He hesitated. “You know I love you, right?”
She nodded in sharp bobs, but refused to say it back. Her lips were pursed too tight to keep her from doing more than staining his stupid sweatervest with her tears.
-eldritch and uncharted shores, Chapter 20.
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