gonna_live | (no subject)

He settles against her, but it's not the relaxed movement of earlier; more an unconscious seeking of physical comfort.

There's a subtle tension in his arms, in his shoulders, in the changed rhythm of his breathing.

And it doesn't go away.

A few minutes pass.

Kaylee raises her head, and looks up at him with a silent question.

Simon glances at her, and lets out a breath. "Sorry. It was ... it isn't bad news," a little hastily, "but ... "

He's not quite sure how to finish that sentence.

The 'but' is enough.

Kaylee shifts, sitting up. "What is it?"

Simon moves when she does, straightening to put his back against the headboard.

"It's the Day of the Dead," he starts, quietly. "All Souls."

Kaylee draws her knees up to her chest, and doesn't say anything.

"And Jordie's put together a ... an altar, I think they're called. Sort of a shrine." Beat. "For Liz. He sent me a capture."

Now Kaylee really doesn't say anything.

"They do that at his church." Soft. "On All Souls. I'd almost forgotten."

"Oh."

Very, very quiet.

He turns to look at her again.

"I'm sorry, xin gan," he says again. "I didn't mean to ... spoil the night."

"You can make it up to me later." She tries for a smile. "If you want. I guess. It's -- it's okay."

Simon leans toward her and slides an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer.

The image of Liz in that one capture blinks before his eyes again, and it's gone.

She lets herself be drawn, smoothing her palm over his chest.

Quiet: "You're shaken up."

"A little," he whispers, "yes."

"Talk to me about it?"

He rubs her shoulder absently with one hand.

"He said it helped. The process." A glance. "...do you want to see?"

"Do you want me to see?" Beat. "Would he be okay with me seeing?"

It's not her world; it's not her history, or anything at all that's hers. Kaylee thinks it bears some asking.

"...I don't know." Quiet. "I think ... I think he wouldn't mind, but I'm not sure."

He shakes his head. "I can tell you about it, though."

"And I'll keep my mouth shut, just in case." She gives him another faint smile. "All right."

A little hesitantly, a little haltingly, he describes the altar. Some of the details he's forgotten already; what remains in his mind is the scarf, the flower, the bottles and comb, the captures.

It's not so foreign; it's not like she's never heard of altars to ancestors, or never seen them.

"It sounds... nice," she offers.

He nods. "It was."

There's a faint tone of ... something like bemusement, something like wonder.

And it's enough to make Kaylee look at him without saying anything.

"It was..."

He's quiet for a beat, searching for the words.

"Painful. In a way. But at the same time I can see how it could help."