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Sevika had finally found a little while to sleep. Even though it was in her creaky bed, on her half sunken mattress, inside her dingy apartment, with the shrill ramblings of Zaun's night scene seeping in through her broken window along with the harsh neon of its street signs, she'd learned to ignore it. Her head craned against the edge of the bed as she lied down without more than a huff before she fell to exhaustion. Her eyes closed, and her body was limp upon landing, and for a moment she doubted she'd ever be able to move a muscle again.
She then felt a warmth on her side, like that of rare morning light sinking into her skin, gentle, familiar hands trail up her stomach, her chest, her thighs. Such an overwhelming sensation, yet so strangely comforting. She knew what path they'd take on each part of her, thoroughly committed to memory: the fingers always squeezed at her shoulders firmly on the way down her arms, knowing how tense she was, and she always was, so it always made her grant a sigh of relief from deep within her throat. She knew where the kisses would fall upon, an extension of the warmth of hands that made her heart race with the fall of each one upon scarred skin. She loved it particularly when those kisses came to her nape, below her ear, along her jawline.
This softness was what followed the pleasure, and she'd love what had lead to it of course, but silently, in the very depths of her heart, it was the tenderness afterwards which made her feel the most at ease. She'd soak up all the warmth she'd never gotten for herself greedily, especially when it came to the lips crashing against her. So soft, and so delicate, she almost felt guilty for always being the one to ask for more, for having the urge to consume their warmth even deeper, just one more before bed, just one more before you head off to work. Just one more.
Grayson would laugh at such insistence sometimes, but she'd never denied her. She could've, easily, and Sevika would've never held it against her. She knew that, and still…Sevika held out the hope that the other craved them as much as she did, that she wasn't as bold as her at asking for what she wanted, even if Sevika would've moved earth and sky for her. She'd make a whole new Zaun just for them. Grayson just had to utter the word.
“I've missed you” she could still hear against her ear, in that lovely, raspy voice born from the smoke and ash of cigars they'd both begun lighting so many evenings ago, back before the other was even in the force. Sevika wondered why her voice hadn't been as affected as the enforcer's by their bad habits, and sometimes couldn't help but hope it'd become like that with enough time. It wasn't a very rational or even healthy thought, that much she knew. But in the darker corners of her mind she would ache for a reminder of the woman above her, even when she was alone. Sevika buried her face against the fluffy black curls. Her hair smelled like lilacs, every single time. “...Me too” she'd finally reply, quieter, softer than how she usually spoke. That much coming from her, with how damn guarded and on edge she'd been all her life, was almost a proclamation of love in itself. I've missed you. I've missed loving you. So, so very much.
Despite herself, she'd always wake up from these dreams a little more lethargic than when she'd gone to sleep, feeling like she hadn't rested a bit. She quickly closed her eyes again, going back to the dream was impossible, she'd tried that, but trying to remember wasn't. She tried to commit every detail of her face her subconscious had granted her into an image in her mind, to hold onto the sound of a voice that grew fainter every day. It wasn't like she'd meant for it to be that way, but even with how much she loved it, held it close to her heart, sounds are much easier to forget when you haven't heard them in a while. She'd at least held onto her badge when she needed a remainder of what she looked like. But 7 years is a long time, and the ink of the picture had been fading. She feared each day she'd forget her, that'd the few happy moments of her life would slip away from her, slaves to time. She'd make sure to keep her smells on hand for this very reason, her favorite brand of coffee, leather, the moisturizer she'd used for her hands, cigars, whiskey and lilacs. She'd keep them in her kitchen cabinet when nights got especially lonely.
Tonight, all of them were splayed upon her room in different quantities. They could never come close to the deep musk that came from her when they'd share her bed, but they treaded a road to a familiar enough combination. The lilac scented napkin at level with her nose was the most effective, the sensation of it mocking how on the rare occasion Grayson could stay the night, she'd always choose to rest her chin atop her hair, satisfied with the warm breath she'd feel at her neck.
Long since then, it had become her favorite smell.