puppetfic | Palia Fic: Tungsten

Title: Tungsten

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Palia

Relationship: Elouisa/Caleri

Warnings: Incest, Implied child abuse

Word Count: 1640
Notes: For macrocest winter bingo card, prompt: library sex

-i.

Elouisa is born first, and she does not hold this over Caleri’s head in the way that Caleri would if she were the older twin by three minutes. If Caleri had been born first, she would hold it high above, like teasing an animal with a treat you never intend to give. If Caleri had been born first, perhaps she would be allowed to dedicate her life to something besides taking care of Elouisa. The village. Really?

0.5.

In her mind she shuffles through titles of books to calm herself down—Caleri is young, and Elouisa has her own eccentric view of the world, and Caleri must be tuned, whittled into a point, to make their family proud. She coughs up her double and buries her in the pages, restrained by book bindings and ropes of discarded words. She coughs up her double and slow dances with her, takes her to a concert and Elouisa does not talk about ancient beings or rare bugs or whatever obsession she has today, and the night is perfect, and it is an entirely inappropriate fantasy. She coughs up her double, apologizes, says we’re both here struggling beneath their fingertips, chained to them like award-winning show pets instead of children. In reality she does not speak, just watches Elouisa write in her journal across the room.

Sometimes she wonders what Elouisa writes about. Does she write about Caleri? Does she complain? She peers over the cover of the book she’s half-reading-has-read-a-hundred-times-anyway, watches her sister’s face curl into a state of focus. She wants to ask Elouisa so many things, like - has anyone else taken that second concert ticket of yours? Has any living being ever caused a spark in you, in a similar glow to the way you adore the mysterious? Has any living being held you yet? Our parents certainly don’t. Do you ever think about how unjust it is, that the pressure is here against me, diamond on diamond, simply because you’re just a little bit too fragmented to be hoped for? Do you know that I still have hope for you, not in spite of your differences, but because they make you the person you are, the sister I want to be near but simply cannot bear to be around? She doesn't ask Elouisa anything - instead she stretches out each word in her book and wraps them in a chain around her neck. There, fixed. Surely fixed.

xviii.

The phrasing pass beyond the veil is a crude sugarcoating of death, but Elouisa keeps saying it like she can’t handle the words dead or body or memorial, so Caleri adopts it despite initial discomfort. Elouisa fragments even more after they pass, and as Caleri comforts her through the pain, her own pain manifests within, like Bahari seas boiled up. She had convinced Elouisa to put distance between herself and their parents, held her hand and told her that she deserved better than to have her differences dismissed and resented. She’s always doing that, you know. Holding Elouisa.

0.7.

Their first kiss is when they are teenagers, because as much as Caleri hates noise, she cares for her sister, and her sister wants to go a concert in Bahari City, so whatever. Elouisa struggles with transportation on her own, and their parents have stuck her here in this position of care - well, fine.

That is all it is supposed to be. That’s all it ever is - all it usually is - all that they can focus on. Elouisa’s favorite music is dark but calm, trancelike noises blurring together under synth. Other concert attendees dance without care around the venue, frames banging and bouncing and waving with each pulse of the music. Elouisa moves closer to her, whispers - and Caleri hears it, somehow - this is the most fun I’ve had in years. I was not aware I could still have fun.

So Caleri kisses her, and Elouisa, for a while, stops loving the forbidden.

xix.

Neither of them even know of their passing until a week after the event. Passing, she thinks - the word has replaced died in her vocabulary with natural ease. It’s always Elouisa.

“I miss them,” Elouisa says. Today marks another year of age. They used to celebrate together - all other years were years of changes, of reading, of studying, of discovering. This past year has only been burdensome. “Sometimes I think I can hear them yelling at me when I’m in bed. But when I chase the voices, there is a nothingness, Caleri. And I cannot tell if it gives me relief or terror.”

Caleri dusts off the library shelves. It’s a new beginning; some poets of their kind would call it rebirth. Some part of her thinks that she shouldn’t be there - she should be out there, doing archival work, letting knowledge seep into her cells, but then: Elouisa would be alone.

So she cleans the library up. The pathway to it is in the middle of a nice center, surrounded by all of the important businesses and buildings in the village. This pleases Caleri; that means they prioritize knowledge, at least in some form. They are welcomed to the village with open arms by most of the residents—some of it is built upon Caleri’s aid of Kenyatta, but Caleri doesn’t mind the girl most days. She doesn’t know what to make of her yet, but guiding Kenyatta gives her a reason to stay late at the library, so she welcomes it. Anything to be away, close but not too close, on hand if needed but never embraced. That is all she can handle when it comes to Elouisa.

Still, she thinks about what Elouisa does at night even during her sessions with Kenyatta—the thought is always there, embedded in her filing cabinet of a body, haunting the back of her existence like vengeful specters.

xi.

Elouisa gives her a present. Elouisa often gives her presents, but admittedly, none of them are as beautiful as the brooch she holds in her hands now. It’s delicate, could break underneath her. Caleri is the hardest occurring metal, the most structured, the strongest of the unit the two of them compose together, and Elouisa bends like molten gold.

She tries not to react.

“It is beautiful,” she says. “Thank you.” And then: “You typically go to the riverbank this time of day.”

“I had difficulties sleeping, and I wanted to see you before the library opened,” Elouisa says. “I wanted to apologize.”

Caleri frozen, Caleri suspended, inanimate - just for a moment before twirling back into motion. “For?”

“Bothering you with all my theories. I know you don’t believe them, and I know… I know what happened in the field last time we—”

“Elouisa—”

“I will not get hurt again. I will be more cautious when testing my theories, Caleri, I promise you.”

Caleri hates displaying affection, these days. It ruins the appearance, the sanctity of the books—most people don’t know this, but the vibrations of vulnerability can affect their quality, or so Elouisa would say, or so Caleri would say in a universe where their roles have been inverted. But it’s 4:45 in the morning, the library is closed, and no one is around. Caleri takes her hand, tries her best to be open, but—

“Please, do not tell our parents.”

“You ruined the concert for me, Caleri.”

“We will be able to forget about this.”

“Perhaps there is a device that can… remove this from my mind permanently. For now, however… I will try my best to forget.”

She gives Elouisa’s hand a pat, pulls back and leaves her touch stationary. “I don’t regret a moment of being here for you.”

Elouisa looks down, as if disappointed in Caleri’s lack of contact. Her expression twists into something frightened -- something curious -- something.

“Do you remember the time you kissed me, when we were younger?”

Caleri nods. If she were a lesser person she would think that there is a connection here, that Elouisa read Caleri’s thoughts in the moment.

“Oftentimes, when I tell you my discoveries,” she says, her fingers shaking on the desk, “I’m trying to impress you.”

“I wasn’t aware…”

“I want the invigorating energy of knowledge, the fire of understanding, the feeling of victory when I am the one to decipher it all… but… I know what you must think of me. Especially considering how I reacted when you… did that.”

She’s having one soft moment of clarity. Of lucidity.

A bravery: “What are you attempting to say, Elouisa?”

Elouisa grabs her hand at first, just to see how Caleri will react. Caleri freezes again - contorts with a warming discomfort - mangles herself back together.

“We haved lived too long, and been through too much, to continue pretending,” Elouisa whispers.

Her back straightens. It takes a moment for Caleri to process it, when Elouisa’s soft fingers curl around her chin and pull her in for a giggling kiss. She allows herself to fall into the laughter, too, fading into Elouisa until they are one, conjoined.

And then Elouisa leads her to a secluded area of the library - no windows, behind a bookshelf - as an invitation. Elouisa wants her, and Elouisa wants her. It is truly wrong, but who else do they have? Who else will love Elouisa in the same way, who else will understand Caleri’s past, her thirst for knowledge? When they kiss again the laughter evaporates, mutating into desperation as Caleri’s warm mouth rolls with hunger over Elouisa’s jaw, neck.

“Are you positive you want this?” Elouisa asks.

“I understand now,” Caleri responds. It is about 75% of a truth—she is only beginning to understand, but she cannot wait for the understanding to envelop her, to fully explore it. To wrap herself around Elouisa, to fix things. There, fixed—surely, fixed.