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Neon Hearts in Derelict Futures [Briar & AlrunaRose]

Therrye had no desire to be impatient with her. She'd already given what seemed like so much outside of what she felt comfortable with to be in this moment with her. Chastising her felt wrong. Still, the outcomes and weights that she balanced weren't what drove the bruiser's decision.

That she said it was more than Aolieon ever had was rather heartbreaking, though, and helped her calm all of the thoughts and feelings replying from within her. Her outside arm shifted to gently touch her arm and lightly stroke it with her thumb. She lifted her other arm to brush tears from her cheek. It took no time at all for her to pull her closer to embrace her. "I won't pretend I know the truths you speak of. But I've already made my choice to put my life on the line." There was plenty of her own struggle with that which she didn't put into words. At least, not yet. "Too many suffer while I remain free, and none of them are being given the chance to live like I have. Even if I wasn't doing this out of hatred, it's worth the risk."

A small smile appeared on her lips. "If the truth brings more of the same, that's just my luck, isn't it?" She chuffed, then looked more solemn. "I doubt that'd change how I feel toward you. If you don't know what you want, well, you don't need to decide now." She half frowned, half smiled, a great weight filling up her chest. "I'm going to keep moving forward. I have to. For however long you want to walk with me," she gave a shaky bit of exhale, knowing that this might very deeply cost her, "you are welcome to."
 
After everything that she said, Aolieon couldnt help but scowl. You gonk-brain, she couldnt help but think. She found herself shaking her head with a sorrowful frown... but it subsided after a little bit. Aolieon was no stranger to the abolitionist narrative, one of the philosophies that was the cornerstone of Fallen doctrine -- much of their original mission as an organized militia saw them making their names and seizing assets from gangers, smugglers and even Syndicate personnel who invested into the human or alien trafficking businesses. The predatory law of the jungle saw them become skilled enough to be considered an occupying force in Night City -- however, their vigilantism set them apart from typical Edgerunners which for a decent amount of time saw factors such as the NCPD and Trauma Team look the other way for a time... It's part of what made them soldiers, not mercenaries and to hear it coming from Therrye -- it made her sound like more of the same, but it was altogether understandable; because of Aolieon's involvement and her escapades working for the Fallen in the past (to often a fanatical extent at times) gave her little room to dispute, let alone condemn, the bruiser's reasoning and rhetoric.

Aolieon sighed and bitterly held her tongue, settling into Therrye's embrace after she brushed her tears away, resigning herself to not argue with her in this moment. Knowing what happened and why might not change how Therrye felt about Aolieon... but that was far from the point. The point could be argued for much later... As things stood in the present, Aolieon was quietly melting into the bruiser's grasp, and while her conflicting thoughts of knowing what she knew now made her particularly restless when it came to Therrye -- that knowledge didn't invalidate her reasoning, per se. So, Aolieon let it be, for now.
She curled up in Therrye's embrace, muttering under her breath, "You don't get it..." but otherwise letting this moment be. She breathed free and simply curled up in her arms, wriggling in her grasp, trying to get closer to that warmth that kept calling her. She didn't want to think about how easy that choice was to make for everyone; she didn't want to think about the cost it made everyone pay, and how in her mind -- there were undoubtedly so many who might not pay it gladly, if given the chance to do it all over again. She just wanted to bury her face in this rimbo's chest and forget it all -- that was the crux of all this thinking, was that Aolieon had put so much work into not thinking about this sort of thing. She was the architect of such a hedonistic haze, under which many things lay buried, but this... this and all things associated with it constituted the lion's share of a myriad of mysteries which the dancer, without malice or meaning, simply wished to stay dead... So, she just let the bruiser have this one -- thinking back to the designs upon treating Therrye as a worthwhile Warrior and still held steadfast in a cloaked desire which eclipsed all others; she finally replied in the most neutral manner, which might allow her to keep her own designs while not ruining this precious moment, where the bruiser was so close and trying so hard to be understanding...

"...We'll see."
 
It was, well, something. Compared to what she felt like she had with her a day ago, far more possibility lingered there for Therrye to actually act on her feelings... at least for a little while. Bubbles of giddy eagerness floated with ones of fervent desire in such a space, ready to pop on her skin and drive her forward. The samurai, however, had said certain things of her history and shed tears over some of what had been expressed. Reassuring that she'd do whatever, care however, didn't seem like it'd rouse anything but ire.

Considering what she thought she might know of her, she cast out for options that might bring more truth. On these topics, she more or less stated that the bruiser needed to figure it out without her help. That she could do, but what about the rest? The Liandri seemed to wear so much loss and deprivation, and rather than address that by trying to live, she'd sunk deeper into any distraction from living. Except that didn't quite explain her freeing the fighters. Meanwhile, she did nothing to stop the dancer from wriggling against her; circular and twisting motions would tug at the simple knot and folds of the bathrobe alike, and if she was persistent, they'd hardly hold in place between them.

Accepting the answers given to her, she nevertheless pressed on after some moments to simply hold Aolieon and let her words sit. "Whatever you've given to become the weapon you are today, whatever your past has cost you... I don't judge you for choosing to live as you have. You do know that you can change that choice though, right?" That half-smile, half-frown returned. "I almost lost myself twice after deciding I wanted to live beyond hatred. No one saved me from it, but people were around to offer shoulders so I could limp forward until I could choose life again." She didn't like feeling like she was proselytizing, but the context and message felt important. "It doesn't have to be with me. Just, leaning on others is our best chance to make it out when we're alone in the dark." Therrye gently pressed her cheek into the woman's, wanting this to feel closer to an embrace than a lesson. "And if you're truly thinking you have no one to lean on, I call bullshit." Though the words may have stung, they were said with a tone of gentle teasing. She might aim to expose the rotten spots in her perspective, but she wasn't going to drag her into living a different life. The bruiser respected her autonomy too much for that.

At that, she finally looked away and let her gaze unfocus. There was plenty she wanted to ask and even more she wanted to know, yet the dancer had put up walls. Trying to forcibly tear such down wasn't her style.
 
Aolieon found enough conscientious consideration to allow Therrye to speak; even though each word past her own resolution of kindly kamikaze grated on Aolieon's grim rationale like nails on a chalkboard, Aolieon begrudgingly accepted the caress of Therrye's cheek against her own. There was something about this gentle warmth that had kept Aolieon pliable enough to let Therrye have this moment... and then came what sounded like the idle musing, or dare she say, questioning of Aolieon's life choices.
Aolieon sighed exasperatedly, assertively pulling away from Therrye's cheek; like a restless phantom, the snark returned in Aolieon. "You were an independently licensed therapist before you took up running the Edge, weren't you?" she finally replied sarcastically, her intonation rising in an almost sardonic manner before ending her question with a droll tone. She turned her head to look up at the bruiser, staring at her lips for a moment with lazy eyelids as she licked her own before she stole a peck on her cheek -- she wanted those lips on hers, but she had been decently off-put by the bruiser's brief tirade that she found herself able to stuff it down momentarily. "... I get what you're trying to do, bruiser. It's not entirely lost on me, but... Don't. Just don't." A beat. "There's no one alive who retains the right to judge me for how I live."

She clicked her tongue and puckered her lips. "The way I see it; if God wanted me to live well or get therapy -- then this city would have burned when it should have." Aolieon's expression got dark; her eyes sharpened in icy rejection, and her tone had become particularly bitter, and she pulled out of the cuddle long enough to stand up, walk over to where her stuff was and bend over facing away from Therrye, rifling through her pouches to acquire her Airbudder. "Televangelists proselytize better -- don't quit your day job," and with that, Aolieon would take two huffs off of the inhaler, holding her breath as she slowly rose up; dropping the inhaler and exhaling with a ragged breath as vapor left her lips in a swirling cloud, dulling the emotions and sweeping all the other grimdark thoughts of her mind underneath the rug. She'd turn around, looking at the bruiser and managing an airy smile. "... you're sweet, though; I'll give you that." She took two steps and half flumped on the bed beside her, snuggling into the covers as thoughts returned of what she had right in front of her and the many desires that remained entangled within her -- most importantly, the desire to stay here for awhile... see where things go, and if she could possibly get another piece of that Femme who ravished her. She sighed plainly, worming her way back over to where Therrye might still have laid, and keeping herself open to the idea of that same warm embrace that she had abandoned for only a brief moment. "I would have offered you some, but... you don't seem the type." she gestured back to where her stuff was, and she smiled sultrily as she lazily pawed at the air where the bruiser was. "C'mere; it's cold without you..." she playfully pleaded, trying to work her way towards something else that in Aolieon's mind, would have made all the negativity of the last few moments worth it.
 
Therrye chuff-snorted at the supposition from the dancer. She wasn't surprised she'd touched a nerve; it was clearly delicate territory to trod in, and really, probably territory she never truly wanted to visit again. Her half-smile, half-frown faded into just the smile. Despite how grating and galling it could be at times, Aolieon's venomous tongue was at least familiar. Expecting her to actually receive words gentle and firm was a gonk path, so this response from her made sense. It could be calculated much more readily than all of the sweet caring and consideration that had been poured into the bruiser so far this past morning and night. The peck on her cheek was more surprising, really, given how much skewing between emotions was involved in it.

That did seem to fit her at this point, though.

Watching the other Liandri get up, her gaze tracked her transit to finding chemical respite from her feelings. It was hard to blame her when she'd spent plenty of time avoiding confronting the realities of certain feelings, yet it also struck her as different. Therrye coped with her darkness without retreating from life while Aolieon drowned herself in response and avoiding coming back out of the water however, whenever she could. Nodding to the dancer, she accepted her accepted her back into her arms and held her close. She didn't feel as if she needed the comfort now, even as those still-wounded parts of her continued to bleed in front of her. Something had shifted that she struggled to describe and it'd made it less painful to be close to her. Though she did not anticipate any sort of 'happily ever after' with the woman, there was still life to enjoy here, for however long it lasted. "I prefer more natural highs," she said softly, more statement than tease. Despite the seismic change in her emotional landscape, there were still elements of distance between them, and it would be whiplash-inducing to invite her right back in to where she'd unintentionally spun hooks like swords into her.

Maybe I can leave happy ghosts here, this time.
 
In the moments that followed -- half propelled by the ignorant yet powerful bliss brought on by concentrated,
synth-cannabinoids manufactured in raw forms and then ran through a complex inhaler which superheated the compound; half driven by the desire to at last mentally address the elephant in the room -- Aolieon took a few moments standing there to look inwards and ask the question which had been gently beckoned towards gradually by the bruiser and outright neglected by the dancer.
It was few and far between that someone so full of worldly hatred and cultivated to Aolieon's level of skill found a merc that could hold their own -- much less one of a certain disposition and dogma that showed promise of being worthwhile in one's circles of trust, enough that they might be worth the bonding to emotionally. Setting aside the overwhelming inner truth of their inevitable passing -- you could just ask the likes of Kaede about how few and far between mercs who had served as bona fide soldiers or Samurai were. Questions of camaraderie, dedication to duty or cause, adaptability, lethality; the concerns were endless, and the opportunities to bring light to them even fewer... that's why it was simpler for mercs of higher quality to sell their services and walk the path as Solos than ever risk bonding with others, much less making chooms with someone who might serve as a liability, or worse -- a traitor.

And yet, the bruiser was different, in contrast to every other merc that may have once obliviously carried that potential. Sure, she wasn't some old blood of any recent wartime incursions and didn't seem to possess any major depths of combat expertise -- yet what little Aolieon had been able to witness pointed the compass in a favorable direction, when it came to the streetkid Liandri.

So, she decided once more to lighten up and throw her tactical sensibilities aside again -- warming up to the bruiser's light demeanor and general amicability. When she commented on her pursuit of natural highs, Aolieon couldnt help but smirk over a softened facial expression; finding at last a tempting subject. "Ohh, yeah?" she teased as she curled up back into Therrye's arms, interlacing her legs with her own to really settle and lock herself into this embrace. "... can't imagine what those might be..." she added with soft undertones of fluttering velvet, snaking her arm underneath her side and wrapping her other arm 'round the waist, freeing Therrye to rest or move her arms/hands wherever she saw fit -- now merely inches away from her face again, she let out a soft exhale of hot breath brush past her neck as she finished snuggling into the hold, before she looked up into those eyes and licked her lips in anticipation. "...care to indulge me?"
 
The bruiser returned a partial smirk of a smile toward the sultry teasing of the dancer. Given how she tended to act, how she'd quested for a kiss recently already, and her chosen state of undress, it was hardly a strange turn. Aolieon seemed to lean into hedonism much more readily than she did, though it had that essence of diversion or death wish to it, she thought. One of her hands slowly slid up the soft skin of her back, from the dip near the bottom of her spine all the way up to her shoulder blade. Therrye'd be lying if she denied carnal interest in the woman, yet it felt awfully messy. Even in their bit of parley and détente, the nest of emotions and impulses still held some tension and conflict. It felt like the wrong tone to try to engage from, and that was ignoring everything else that had preceded this morning.

"Are you always so insatiable?" she asked in a mirthful tease, the fingers on her shoulder blade sweeping up to her neck. They did not wrap or hold, instead just resting fingertips there while her palm remained on her shoulder; she'd seemed more than a little touchy about pressure there, even if nothing unpleasant had come of it yet between them. "Worrying about me all night and then sliding into bed with me barely dressed." Chuffing, her gaze was a little lidded while it held hers. "Or maybe you just loved how I brought you to sleep last time," she mused before bringing her hand into her hair, just barely short of grazing her horns, and started tugging at her scalp.

Despite all of the emotions in her chest, her need to act had been largely sated. Lust was easier to subdue than her more insistent wishes, and though it was enormously potent toward the Liandri, it needed to synch more strongly with the rest of her to push hard at her restraint. Her eyes shut for a few moments as she just relished in the presence of her against her body. Those bleeding parts of her had already given up on having this again with the samurai, and yet here she was once more, and clearly wanting more of her. The nerves at the back of her neck and across her upper back crackled and shivered; there was plenty to thrill at with her, as she had been so recently educated.

Opening her eyes again, she searched Aolieon's expression before drawing her mouth to hers by the hand behind her head, letting herself give in just a little to the font of passion she carried. Teeth grazed over her plush lips between pulls on them. She drew her tongue over her lower lip, remembering the taste of so much else there before, and spirals of heat blossomed inside of her. Her kisses pulled between insistent presses and tugs, and achingly slow drags of mouth across mouth. The hold of her head was not so strong or restrictive that the dancer could not readily escape it, yet her fingers applied pressure and tension, making the ache in her muscles known through the force there that wasn't coming through in bites. Only after wrapping her tongue around Aolieon's and reveling a moment in her did she finally relent and draw back, that drunk-like haze of hunger slow to begin fading. A rather languid and sated smile appeared after, and unhurried blinks began beating back some of the dilation in her eyes. "Can you imagine now?"
 
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