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Whumpril Day 24: Sensory Overload
From the Whumpril prompts list
Day 24: Sensory Overload
Londo & Delenn, post-main-canon, fixit kinda
[Londo got de-Drakhened. Who knows how. Details.]
--
"Londo." It was Delenn's voice. Delenn's hands grasping his own. "Londo, relax, please. Open your eyes."
He did. Soft golden sunlight, the color of late afternoon on Centauri Prime, bathed his room. The curtains were half open, and Delenn sat on the side of the bed with her hands wrapped around his wrists. For a moment, he thought it must be a dream, except that her hands were so firm on his, and he could feel the half-moons of her nails pressing into his wrists.
"Where," he whispered. His voice cracked. "Where are we?'
"We are on your world, Londo." Her voice was inexpressibly gentle. "Can you sit up?"
He did. She guided him carefully with her hands on his. The mere brush of the sheets on his bare legs, the silken sleeping shift brushing his skin, set up a tormenting rush of sensation. His shoulder, his very empty shoulder, throbbed like an unhealed bruise.
"You will probably feel very strange right now." Delenn was looking into his eyes, still holding his wrists. Her fingertips caressed the backs of his forearms. "Can you tell me if there is anything you need?"
Brivari perhaps, he thought. But the idea turned his stomach. He blinked, holding fast to her hands, and looked around the bedroom that for so long had been filled with shadows and horror. Now the blinds were pulled back, the gold light of the homeworld he had loved for so long, that he had sacrificed everything for, spilling in to fill all the corners.
"I don't know," he whispered.
"It's all right," Delenn said gently. She tugged his hands a little, and he turned to look at her. She was older -- but so was he. "You will be all right, Londo. You are free."
"Free," he whispered, trying to understand the concept. His shoulder throbbed like a phantom limb. And then he did understand -- it was golden light filling his room, it was a friend holding him gently, it was being able to speak freely without a voice whispering terrible threats in his ear. And it was gone, it was gone, it was gone.
He fell forward, and she caught him, and held him tightly, murmuring things into his ear that he did not afterwards remember. The entire thing was too much; he could not even understand freedom, but he understood the feeling of being held by someone who cared for him, something he had not felt in so long that he could not even remember. He clung to her and he cried softly and quietly into her shoulder. If he had learned one thing, it was how to cry without making a sound.
"You are free," she said over and over, running her hand across his hair, where his crest was a matted and sweat-flattened mess. "You are free." And after a while, when he had cried himself out and was simply leaning against her, she said softly something that did not make sense to him until later, as she slowly dragged her fingertips down his greasy hair from his scalp to the base of his skull: "I thought I would never have another chance. I am so glad to be proven wrong."
Day 24: Sensory Overload
Londo & Delenn, post-main-canon, fixit kinda
[Londo got de-Drakhened. Who knows how. Details.]
--
"Londo." It was Delenn's voice. Delenn's hands grasping his own. "Londo, relax, please. Open your eyes."
He did. Soft golden sunlight, the color of late afternoon on Centauri Prime, bathed his room. The curtains were half open, and Delenn sat on the side of the bed with her hands wrapped around his wrists. For a moment, he thought it must be a dream, except that her hands were so firm on his, and he could feel the half-moons of her nails pressing into his wrists.
"Where," he whispered. His voice cracked. "Where are we?'
"We are on your world, Londo." Her voice was inexpressibly gentle. "Can you sit up?"
He did. She guided him carefully with her hands on his. The mere brush of the sheets on his bare legs, the silken sleeping shift brushing his skin, set up a tormenting rush of sensation. His shoulder, his very empty shoulder, throbbed like an unhealed bruise.
"You will probably feel very strange right now." Delenn was looking into his eyes, still holding his wrists. Her fingertips caressed the backs of his forearms. "Can you tell me if there is anything you need?"
Brivari perhaps, he thought. But the idea turned his stomach. He blinked, holding fast to her hands, and looked around the bedroom that for so long had been filled with shadows and horror. Now the blinds were pulled back, the gold light of the homeworld he had loved for so long, that he had sacrificed everything for, spilling in to fill all the corners.
"I don't know," he whispered.
"It's all right," Delenn said gently. She tugged his hands a little, and he turned to look at her. She was older -- but so was he. "You will be all right, Londo. You are free."
"Free," he whispered, trying to understand the concept. His shoulder throbbed like a phantom limb. And then he did understand -- it was golden light filling his room, it was a friend holding him gently, it was being able to speak freely without a voice whispering terrible threats in his ear. And it was gone, it was gone, it was gone.
He fell forward, and she caught him, and held him tightly, murmuring things into his ear that he did not afterwards remember. The entire thing was too much; he could not even understand freedom, but he understood the feeling of being held by someone who cared for him, something he had not felt in so long that he could not even remember. He clung to her and he cried softly and quietly into her shoulder. If he had learned one thing, it was how to cry without making a sound.
"You are free," she said over and over, running her hand across his hair, where his crest was a matted and sweat-flattened mess. "You are free." And after a while, when he had cried himself out and was simply leaning against her, she said softly something that did not make sense to him until later, as she slowly dragged her fingertips down his greasy hair from his scalp to the base of his skull: "I thought I would never have another chance. I am so glad to be proven wrong."
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WELL, AUGH.
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Minus one Keeper, plus one hug, I'll take it!