Page 129 of The Shape of Monsters
Iriset doesn’t even have to tug on his rising too much, or clench too many sparks of ecstatic into his back with her fingernails, for his orgasm to hit quickly. Iriset tears herself open at the same time, the four forces so tightly unmade into one that they unravel, and there it is: sundering. Love.
It is hot in the little guest room when Iriset starts noticing things like her skin again.
She and Lyric remain wrapped together, sticking with sweat and come. Lyric appears to be passed out, but there’s a glow to him. Iriset decides to think of it as a healthy glow. Her body is light, too, and already a little bit hungry. They should take a bath and see if Eliri has a diagnostic net here to check Lyric’s internal organs so they don’t have to summon back the mean surgeon who will have too many questions anyway. Then get real sleep, and in the morning ramp up the work on readying everything for the big day.
After this, she’s not going to be able to keep it to herself that she knows how to make the miran, how to mitigate the blowback. This is different because she knowsLyric, and it’s almost incidental that he’s mirané. She needs something additional to make the magical sympathy. Iriset wonders about Maimeri, if the little rabbit is actually the first miran born, and it’s true that they come from a god. Only instead of Aharté it’s the Moon-Eater.
Suppressing a groan, Iriset leans closer to Lyric. He opens his eyes slowly, one at a time. He licks his lips, then smiles very slightly at her. But it’s enough to fill his eyes and shift the whole musculature of his face.
So naturally the first thing out of Iriset’s mouth is absolutely deranged. “I’m going to need you to get me a sample of your lover’s semen.”
His mouth pops open with a shocked little noise.
Chagrined, Iriset continues, “To make the miran, Lyric. If Maimeri is mirané, the first miran, really, I can use ahz semen to create a sympathetic connection. For myself. To reproduce ahz design. That’s where babies come from!” she adds almost frantically when Lyric still doesn’t respond.
“Half,” he bursts out. “Half where babies come from.”
“Well, we only have miran with penises, unless I’m wrong about Maimeri’s design,” she says rather snottily.
They stare at each other, and then laugh at the exact same moment. Relieved, breathy, and soft laughter. Lyric presses his forehead to hers. He takes a huge, deep breath. Lets it out. Does it again. Iriset joins him, and at the end of four, Lyric says, “I can breathe so easily.”
Iriset hugs him, squishing as much of her body against his as she can.
“Do you really want to make the miran?” Lyric murmurs.
“No, but it’s a solution to part of the same problem. The metadesign. It all has to be in place, with purpose. This is the real Holy Design, Lyric Aharté.”
“And will it send us home?” he asks, pulling her against his chest, smoothing a hand down the length of her spine.
Iriset doesn’t answer except to spread her hand over his chest beside her cheek, her fingers pressed between her mouth and his heart.
Worth it
Rabbit dozes on the porch outside Iriset’s guest room. The night is deep, with few lamps still lit so late, but spring insects continue to sing from the little pond in the yard. It’s surrounded by low boulders soft with mosses and colorful lichen, and despite the darkness, the fish are visible thanks to their glowing gemstone scales. The Rivermouth fortress is balanced, easy to relax in. Not so strict as the Holy Design they inflicted upon the valley, but soothing.
The door beside ahz slides quietly open, and az hears shuffling feet, then a soft exclamation. Az keeps ahz eyes closed, head leaned back against the wall. Iriset Sunderer whispers, “Does Little Rabbit know?”
“Know what?” Lyric asks, voice low. Rabbit appreciates that it means Lyric isn’t trying to keep secrets from ahz, even if he has until now.
“Your ultimate goal for this eclipse?”
Lyric sighs tenderly. “Az knows I’m only here briefly.”
Rabbit opens ahz eyes, locking immediately to Lyric’s beautiful sun-and-blood gaze.
“Aiyah,” Iriset says, which is not a word Rabbit knows. Az looks ather instead. Her eyes are also mismatched, sun and opal, in her case. It makes the two of them suit each other. Rabbit is trying not to have deep feelings about it. Iriset says, “Go sleep in the bed, or come with us to the kitchen,” she invites, friendly enough. Her dark brown hair is loose in fluffy waves down to her waist and she’s wearing Lyric’s skirt, while Lyric is as put together as always, in what must be an extra dress of Iriset’s and his own black and pink robes. There’s a change in him: His body is relaxed, and it isn’t from sex. Or not only that.
Rising smoothly, Rabbit steps into Lyric’s space. “Are you healed?” az murmurs.
Lyric nods.
“Sunderer,” Rabbit starts, unable to hold back ahz gladness—and awe.
“Probably healed,” Iriset corrects, stepping off the porch as if to avoid the conversation. Lyric follows, brushing his knuckles against Rabbit’s to nudge ahz along. Iriset continues thoughtfully, “But just as probably it will be a recurring problem until you’re back in Holy Design.”
The frown is audible in Lyric’s voice when he says, “Will it be a problem for all the miran when we return, too?”
Iriset looks back, confused, then obvious surprise stripes her expression. “Because you really do want to destroy it all. Fuck, Lyric.”
