Iridian

16. DECEM

.memory (fragment #15)

"Where are we going?"

I hobbled behind Dante as he descended quickly down the stairs to Paige's workspace, swearing under my breath at the pace he was going. Either his feet had healed faster than mine, or he was ignoring the ache. I was still treading like I was stepping on pin and needles, while he ambled about blithely with only the aid of a walking cane that looked suspiciously like it had been nipped from Llewellyn's antique cabinet.

His right arm was still in a sling, though the sprained left wrist was obviously fine. Several days back, that broken arm and swollen wrist had effectively shattered any harboured illusions that he didn't need aid, when he couldn't feed himself properly or pull off his clothes.  I suppose he could have just telekinetically undressed or levitated a spoon to his mouth, but it was impractical since we really needed the Nexus to focus on healing.  So the task of helping him fell to me.

"You broke his arm and sprained his wrist. He's your brain-twin. You have functioning hands, he doesn't. So you get to feed him and button him," Atreus had ordered, silencing Dante's protests. I just looked on glumly. I didn't mind helping Dante, but I did feel terrible about putting him out of commission.

Once Dante had capitulated to Atreus' directive, he turned out to be surprisingly easy to handle, wearing a resigned expression throughout the ordeal. He would eat whatever I fed him without complaint—even when it was too hot and he burnt his tongue—and I did have the advantage of knowing when he wanted another bite without him having to tell me. He didn't even bat an eyelid when I helped him change his clothes, but considering his lack of modesty where I was concerned, that wasn't surprising. So, I suppose I was the best person to help him.

Luckily, the sprained wrist healed fast, so now I mostly just helped him deal with his top when it got stuck on his sling. In another life this would have been a highly interesting situation for me, since Dante was actually quite a handsome fellow, and he had a toned physique that was easy on the eyes. His abs felt like rocks when I poked them experimentally. But, he was just Dante to me. No thrill there.

Our personalities had pretty much reverted to normal—at least, as normal as it could get while we continued to adjust to the shared existence. Oddly, now it was when we slept that our minds became more tightly entwined. We often shared dreams and as Atreus observed, sometimes talked in our sleep at the same time, with the same words. Perhaps it was when we were sleeping that our self-containment was now the least effective, which explained the merging. I wasn't complaining. Figuratively sleeping with Dante in my head was hardly a chore, and it didn't really matter who was the source of the dreams, as long as they weren't of naked women strutting on a beach.

::Or naked men, for that matter,:: Dante intruded on my thoughts. ::I don't need to dream of naked women. I see you all the time.::

::I don't count. I'm part of you,:: I replied bluntly. ::Don't you think it's a little narcissistic to be ogling yourself?::

::Huh. You have me there,:: he shrugged as he waited for me to reach the bottom step of the basement.

::At least I don't make comments about marks on your body. 'What's that scar? What's this scar?':: his mindvoice rose to a female pitch, mimicking me. I shot him a grin to irritate him, recalling my reaction when I saw the thin diagonal scar on his right ribs.

::I thought Iridian scars heal completely, and it was only the one scar that I commented on,:: I clarified.

::Scars and illnesses only heal completely during alteration. After that we're like everybody else, except that we heal faster. How you scar depends on your skin anyway.::