“Eli... I’m bored.”
Two silhouettes perched on surf-wet rocks, the smaller one leaned into the other like a bird against a warm branch.
“Didn’t I just take you to the past cosmos? How are you bored again?” Eli pressed his hat down and pinched Edlyn’s cheek, playful as a breeze.
“What? That was thirty years ago, okay? You stick-in-the-mud!” Edlyn bit down her annoyance and stomped the sea like glass.
A sheet of silver fish flipped belly-up at her kick, and Eli swallowed hard, guilt splashing cold in his throat. “It’s... it’s been thirty years already... haha...”
“...” Edlyn blinked, a ripple of realization moving through her gaze.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Eli turned his head, dodging the cool weight of her eyes like a swimmer avoiding a whirlpool.
“One question. Our anniversary—when is it?” Edlyn crossed her arms, tapping the sea with her toe, each tap a small ripple.
“Uh? Which timeline? This world’s, or the original one?” Eli’s face changed, and his smile turned thin, like sunlight through mist.
“...” Edlyn said nothing and kept her eyes frost-still.
“I was wrong, wife.” Eli caved in; he half-kneeled on the water, head bowed like a reed in wind.
“Speak. Where’s your true body?” Edlyn raised her hand, a black flame pooling in her palm like midnight ink. Avatars carry little memory and run light; in a braided spacetime like this, it’s hard to lock the true flow of time.
“Ah, my true body’s watching another universe,” ‘Eli’ said, sheepish as a fox caught in the henhouse. “Big things are happening there. To keep that world from breaking, I have to watch it, in case of accidents.”
“Why not take me?” Edlyn bent closer; suspicion flickered in her heterochromatic eyes, twin lanterns in fog.
Breath sweet and close, Eli couldn’t help pinching her cheek again, like stealing a grape. He only spoke when her temper primed like thunder. “It’s too dangerous.”
Edlyn laughed, disbelief bright as flint. “Danger?”
Anything that could threaten them had been hunted down thousands of years ago by the priests they’d raised—those invaders from other cosmos. What could still harm them now?
“That universe’s base energy is far beyond any we’ve seen,” Eli said, solemn as a temple bell. “And its laws are unfamiliar. Even my true body could die there.”
“Really?” Edlyn blinked, her doubt fluttering like a moth against glass.
She still thought he was sneaking off.
“Afraid you’ll get hurt, babe.” Eli drew her small body into his arms, voice gentle as starlight on water.
Edlyn nodded, grudgingly, like a cat accepting a pat.
The next instant, surprise shattered the calm: Eli’s avatar went blank-faced, like struck by an unseen blade, and then dissolved into pure, clean energy, a candle blown out.
“No way. Real trouble?!” Edlyn jolted, shifting into her source state; behind her, a World Tree began to bloom, slow as dawn. A single branch followed her spirit, wrapped the remnant energy, and stretched toward the deep of the cosmos like a green comet.
Edlyn opened her eyes; light veiled her pupils, twin suns behind cloud. She looked along the reaching branch. “There?”
She clapped her hands once, gathered the World Tree like a folding fan, then moved at once, flying toward the place of the fracture.
In a nameless starfield far away, Eli stood high above the void, watching a certain energy fall into deep sleep, quiet as a beast in winter. A small dread flickered through him. He glanced at his severed left hand and sighed, the sound thin as wind through pine. “Good thing it’s already been maimed.”
He lifted his gaze to the World Tree vine curling toward him and laid a hand on the branch, gentle as rain. “I’m fine.”
Edlyn’s figure, racing through deep space, slowed. She stared at a point for a long beat and spoke low, like thunder beyond the horizon. “Do dangerous things without me, and when you get back, you’ll pay.”
The universe turned, stars wheeled like a slow dance, and time wandered off; for them, time was just a river without banks.
Night came to this world. Eli shed his power like shedding armor and snuck into their little house, quiet as a cat on soft boards.
Edlyn lay on the bed, slumbering sweetly, her breathing cute as a kitten’s purr. Eli swallowed, eyes lit like lanterns.
He shrugged off his coat and slipped into bed, his hand finding her waist, palm warm as a hearth.
The little figure in his arms wriggled, a soft protest like a fish in a net.
Eli grinned, tightened his hold, and inhaled her scent, greedy as a bee at blossom.
Edlyn kept breathing steady, so he lay still and let out a breath, a tide returning to sea.
His true body had been gone too long in that other world; this was his first long separation from Edlyn. He soaked in her familiar warmth and scent, solace spreading like tea through clay.
Home was best. Here, you didn’t have to overthink.
But the gentle air shifted.
A wicked hand started trouble. Her breath turned ragged, a drumbeat quickening. He touched a certain place, and both of them opened their eyes, gazes locking like crossing blades.
Time stilled. Edlyn pinched his nose and whispered, amused as moonlight. “What, aiming for a third kid?”
“Honey— a man can dream.”
“You said it!”
A very long while later~~~
“...Nice weather.” Eli sat in a rocking chair, sipping goji berry tea, steam curling like morning mist. “Back when I was ordinary, I never tasted this... Did Edlyn dump in too much sugar?”
Better not dwell. He wiped sweat from his brow and sighed, a leaf falling.
“Leisure’s comfortable, but I wonder how things are over there.” He thought for a beat, then decided to send out an avatar a bit stronger, just to watch. Otherwise, trouble would sprout like weeds.
He should also reinforce his body; lately, he’d been a touch overindulgent. He scratched his head, and a chill crawled down his back like a shadow.
Suddenly, a pair of hands looped from behind around his neck, soft as silk. A syrup-sweet voice breathed at his ear. “Baby—night’s deep!”
Eli went sheepish, like a boy caught stealing fruit. “Honey... it’s bad form to drain the pond for one catch.”
“Less talk! Elbow! Inside.”
“Ah!”