ruinsprofessor

[She is not going to cry on him. She is not. Raine tucks her head against his shoulder and fixes the feel of him in her memory, everything from the curve of his arms to the soft blurred-shadow edges of his mana.]

Understood. I'll look after your research. And the matter of Bakura, as well-- it will be more difficult without your magic, but there may yet be something I can do.

[This all is practicalities, which are easy enough to keep herself steady for, but Raine's voice cracks a little, unbidden, as she goes on.]

I'm-- aware the odds don't favor us, but after all, we were both drawn to this world in the first place. If there is a way to connect our worlds without jeopardizing everything we've fought for, I'll find it.

[This isn't fair, but-- at least she has this moment. Raine is painfully aware that most of them don't get even the chance to say good-bye.]

[Solomon laughs softly.]

If a band of disorganised worshippers can manage to summon their demonic gods to my world, I can't imagine why you shouldn't be able to connect ours.

[It isn't something he's considered. No memories; no future. But Raine's statement warms his chest, and he clutches her a little tighter, exhaling and inhaling. His eyes have slipped shut without him noticing. He forces them open again, his words a little mumbled.]

Da's portrait. It's in the pocket of my coat.

[Across the room.]

You may as well put it on the mantle, with Bakura's knickknacks.

[They'd been arranged there with some degree of ceremony, after the wedding.]

And--my father's cane. Give it to Adrien.

[Raine knows the history behind the cane; inlaid with platinum and palladium, an object for channeling magic entirely by chance. A family heirloom for generations, and the only thing Solomon had left with his mortal family's crest on it--a horse against a backdrop of a cross in a field of wheat, all stylised. The way pressing the crest unlocks the handle to become a hidden blade, once broken on the day Da died, now whole only due to the Dreaming.

[His eyelids have drooped again, his body starting to relax perilously in that manner of someone near to sleep.]

Edited (an added detail) 2016-07-10 09:12 (UTC)

Exactly so.

[It seems simple when he puts it that way, not the undertaking it surely will be. To retain her memories, let alone to find a way to cross worlds. And yet-- hope.]

[She could desperately use some hope.]

The portrait; your cane. All right. I'll ensure he knows the meaning of it. Solomon, stay awake.

[Raine's holding him close enough she can feel the laxness taking over him, can anticipate that it won't be all that much longer. But-- even a little bit. Just a little bit more time.]

I wish--

[Wishing is useless.]

If nothing else, I would hope some part of you can remember that I love you.

[Perhaps it's foolish. It's emotion, pure and simple, winning out over cold logic for once. Still. Any of these words may be the last she says to her husband, and that sentiment is important.]

I can't ... I can't.

[It's mumbled, slurred, barely awake enough for Raine's plea to register. He would, if he could. He can still 'see' his soul sluicing away, faster now as though it only needed enough speed to get past the half-effective ward. Not enough time. He still has something to say.]

Raine--

[Solomon manages to grip her tighter still, his forehead resting against the top of hers. His hand rises, trembling with the effort, his thumb grazing the line of her chin and cheek, his fingers brushing her ear all the way to its pointed tip.]

I love you.

[It's whispered, almost breathed, like a final sigh he still can't quite believe.]

[This of all things nearly breaks her: the final giving-up of his formal pet-name for her, so rarely conceded. Raine's eyes sting, and her hold on him tightens in return, almost to the point of pain, an unspoken plea in the trembling of her hands.]

[Don't go.]

I know. I know.

[She almost hates the sound of it, small and desperate as she turns her face toward his hand.]

[She's known longer than he has, only waiting for him to find the words himself. Now any joy at it is overshadowed, made bittersweet.]

Solomon. I'll remember you.

[It's all she can do.]

[Solomon doesn't feel the pain; he's too far gone in the fog of Dreaming. He hears Raine's words from some distance, too far to react--but he hears them, and his body relaxes fully into unintended sleep. Then between one breath and another he's gone, the radio gripped in his hand falling to the floor with a clatter.

[And yet it's only the radio that falls.]

[With Solomon gone Raine overbalances, falls to her knees. Now, only now, does she allow herself to weep, quietly, shoulders shuddering with how desperately she's trying not to.]

[They'd been wed less than a month. She'd always assumed it would be her that lost him -- even had they a lifetime, she would likely outlive him. That should make the loss easier to bear, having been prepared for it in some little way, but it doesn't. Nor does it make her want that lifetime any less.]

[Raine can't say quite how long she stays there, hands pressed to her mouth, fingers interlaced so tightly that her wedding ring bites into her skin. Eventually she has to get up. Keeliai keeps moving, and injuries won't wait for one woman's grief, and it isn't as though staying in his laboratory will let her pretend Solomon's still there. He's gone, though not by his choice, and Raine will carry on.]

[When it occurs for her to look for it, she can't find his ring, the sage-leaves engraved with a fine line of Gaeilge around the inside vanished as thoroughly as he is.]

[It's better that way, she thinks. It lets her hope.]

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