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Natalie was always sensitive to sensations of all kinds. Sounds and textile feelings, especially. Constant, low white noise helped keep her centered and focused. The feeling of soft things, a gentle brush of nerves through the skin, relaxed her.
The way the well-worn and soft fabric of her childhood Nessie, or the mountain of fleece blankets or pajamas she owned felt as she pet them. The way she rubbed her palms across the stabilizing denim of her jeans or scratched at the airy material of her jacket. The way her fingers combed through her conditioned blonde hair or buried them in Nikola’s long, white fur. All of them were comfort habits, long accumulated through her life as she learned through trial and error.
There were other things, touches and feelings she did not like. The way a gun overheated, going straight through her gloves and blistering her palms. The way her jump jet sometimes toggled off too soon and she would be left with bruises, sore knees, or stiff ankles. The way a knuckled fist, sometimes made of metal, felt breaking her nose, forcing her to blink tears and stars out of her vision. The way the sand in Kings Canyon could wind up everywhere, chafing and itchy. The way World’s Edge was just so cold that it left her extremities numb and paradoxically on fire, despite the failsafe put in place to keep hypothermia at bay.
For all the likes and dislikes, however, there were things she loved.
Renee’s tried and true scarf, frayed, threadbare, coarse but constant. Of equally mysterious origin as the skirmisher, it was plucked off a fence the day she gained freedom. There was no knowledge as to what it used to be, but like its owner, it found a new purpose.
Renee’s calloused hands, swiftly and assuredly picking her up during fights, checking her for any injuries no matter how big or small. Her fingers, able to reload a gun and swap out attachments with dextrous ease. To say nothing of her knife twirling.
Her girlfriend’s skin, gently caressing hers. Her cool, refreshing touch was never enough to settle that delectable, burning fire that filled Nat up to the brim. Her lips, slightly chapped yet so tender, were quick to dance with hers no matter who was watching. It had taken time for her to be so open about sharing affection in public, but now that she had a taste, there was no going back to hiding it, not that Natalie wanted her to. It almost seemed like Renee enjoyed showing off. A little… possessive streak, that made Natalie giddy like a teenager with a crush all over again.
She adored how gentle her hands were, especially during their private moments. Her intimacy, once denied, once timid, could now blossom in an array of colors, and Natalie could cry with how overjoyed it left her.
She loved everything about how she felt.
She loved to touch.
—
Sound was another big aspect of her condition. Arguably the biggest for her. Her choice of career might not have been the best idea, considering the gunfire and explosions going off on a near-constant basis, but it was her home. She couldn’t give up on her and her father’s legacy so easily, not when a sound-dampening hood and her pylon could help mitigate the worst of it.
She did not like loud things, at all. Huge crowds, a cacophony of conversations, the Games and everything they entailed, most clubbing music, error noises, and other shrill alarms, all as abrasive as sandpaper to her ears. They rattled her in a way that if left unchecked for too long would leave her a trembling, shuddering mess of overwrought nerves, immediately seeking an exit to find much-needed respite. Preferably alone.
Some of her family, the friends she had made in other legends, were loud by nature. She didn’t have a problem with it, she only wished she could afford to be around them more.
Octavio and Walter, between their love for adrenaline-inducing explosives and heavy metal, made it hard to find shared interests with them, and even harder to spend prolonged time around them. Maggie, Loba, and Anita all had their moments, typically those outbursts were harder to ignore, and not just because of the property damage.
There was one voice she certainly did not mind. She actually cherished it. Low, calm, and a little husky, it pleased her ears in a way that always calmed her nerves and soothed her spirit, similar to how her pylon’s humming did. She never grew tired of hearing it, no matter if it was the no-nonsense tone used in the middle of a match, commanding them and speaking the bare minimum to get the necessary information across, or if it was the small moments with just the two of them, the faint, teasing quips and auditory smiles only Nat got to hear.
Renee’s voice put her at ease in a way nobody else’s had, not even her papa’s.
She valued the quiet just as much as Natalie did, if not more so. She understood her need to be away from it all and recover. A chance to bleed off tension without an audience. Only Renee had ever been allowed to stay in her company when she was at her worst, and each time, they both came out the other side stronger than before.
She loved hearing her sleep next to her at night, not only because her soft snores were cute, but because it meant she was sleeping without nightmares.
She loved everything about how she sounded.
She loved to hear.
—
Smell was a factor more unassuming and forgotten than the rest, but no less noticeable to Natalie.
Anything overbearing was out, even if it was objectively pleasant.
Perfume, cologne, air freshener, shampoo, and soap all had to be lowkey. While she liked to smell good, of course, she much preferred faint and natural scents to the ones that clung to the insides of her nose and throat, almost suffocating her. Vanilla was her favorite, with Renee always teasing her about ‘French vanilla’, but it’s not like it was her fault it smelled so lovely! Lemon could be refreshingly sweet, with just enough of that citrus zing to make a room smell bright and clean. Speaking of clean, fresh laundry was another delightful smell, and the nights the bedsheets were freshly washed left her feeling as though she were in heaven, wrapped in the cozy smell to match the cozy blankets.
The smell of food was always welcome. Homemade meals and fresh baked goods were alluring to the nose, reminding her to take the time to eat. It also reminded her of home, of her childhood and simpler times. Her papa was the one to make breakfast, growing up. She typically didn’t, only eating when she felt the signs of low blood sugar, like migraines, shakes, lethargy, and dizziness. Not the ideal conditions to keep working.
Other smells were not so nice.
She hated the way she would smell after a lengthy match. She hated the way her teammates would smell just as bad, if not worse.
Sweat, fresh and stale. Gunfire residue, ballistic weapons and energized plasma. Blood, new and old.
Burnt ozone, the smell of reality being torn open instead of cut so that it continued to burn and fester, as opposed to being cauterized by a blade.
Except, that last one actually did not bother her, because only one person had that smell. She had never smelled it anywhere else, not even on others who use fold technology.
In fact, as backward as it was, only one person smelled like all of the above ‘bad’ things, and yet she still could not get enough.
She would be lying if she said, especially after a match where the adrenaline was still high, that those smells on Renee and her alone didn’t send Natalie wild, leaping onto her partner, pushing her back onto a bed, a couch, the wall, or even the floor, to indulge in desire.
She loved the way she smelled when clean, too, of course. The generic, all-in-one shampoo and conditioner that Natalie would always chastise her for had a faintly sweet apple smell.
She always had mint gum that would flavor her kisses. Often she would know when she walked past while in the sponsored dorms because of the lingering breeze of peppermint.
She loved everything about how she smelled.
She loved to smell.
—
Looks were not important on the list of things. She wasn’t a shallow person by any means and cared little for vanity. Looks are in the eye of the beholder, as they say.
At least, she didn’t care about vanity. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t made an effort to look nicer lately. Mostly for a certain someone, although she had been feeling better for herself too, as a result.
She would say that certain someone was tall, dark, and handsome, but well… she was short. She was Natalie’s height, but her hunched slouch made it seem like the younger woman was a couple of inches taller. Not that either of them complained, it made it all the easier for Nat to pull her in. Renee secretly loved it, despite her half-hearted protests, and Natalie openly loved being able to express her feelings towards the brooding woman. If she could earn one of her soft smiles, she considered it a success.
She loved her dark hair, whether it was in its typical messy bun, pulled back into a lazy ponytail, or cut shorter than Nat’s own. Even when she had no hair at all and felt self-conscious about it, Natalie always thought she was beautiful. All the stars in the sky couldn’t compare to Renee.
For all her new openness to love and life, it didn’t change the intensity of her icy eyes, the high cheekbones, the sleek angle of her jaw, the full lips, or the nose piercing that was simultaneously adorable and hot. It didn’t change the scars under her clothes, something that was once a reminder of suffering, that, while it still could be, was now also a reminder of her survival. It didn’t change her pale-skinned canvas for the history of her life, the one where every scar, stretch mark, blemish, and birthmark was worshiped, because they were more than worthy of such.
But for as gorgeous and eye-catching as her girlfriend was, she loved her subtleties more. The evidence of Renee’s love, a gentle soul, but one wounded all the same. She was always so observant, always trying to do right by her. Thoughtful. Patient. Even when her anger, because merde how she carried so much, got the better of her, she would rather isolate herself and stew or… act self-destructive than ever take it out on Nat. Because she didn’t want to hurt her or make her feel blamed. Because she didn’t want her to see her like that.
Regardless of what she had done, who she used to be, the woman Natalie was blessed enough to know, to see behind the mask right now, she loved.
She loved being able to sense the world, for both the good and bad, it was a privilege she wouldn’t have any other way, even if at times it could be hard. She absolutely loved getting to use those senses on Renee Blasey, she was fortunate and thanked whatever higher power might be out there that she was able to love her and be loved by her.
—
A door shutting, the dull click of a turned deadbolt, her bags thumping the floor, keys jostling in the glass dish on the small table by their door.
“I am home, c-chérie.” Natalie sighed, her tone flat, carefully neutral except for a faint waver that surprised even her. She rubbed at her face as she considered keeping her jacket on for a little longer.
She sniffed. The smell of dinner filled the warm home. It sent a reminder to her stomach which growled and twisted in discomfort. Right, she hadn’t eaten all day despite working at the labs, elbow-deep in the wired guts of some new project of the games. The sound of metal, clanging, hammering, welding, grinding. The oppressive smell of industry. Honestly, she was better suited to the more… meticulous side of electrical engineering.
“Hey.” A breeze against her skin, and there her girlfriend was, leaning against the archway into the kitchen, arms crossed, as calm and cool as always. Literally, in the latter’s case. Close proximity to her was genuinely colder, though not by much. The aloof look was only slightly ruined by the wooden spatula grasped in her hand, still stained with whatever she was cooking.
“Chicken?” She asked, and Renee craned her head back to glance towards the stove as if she didn’t already know.
“Yeah, I figured since you haven’t had anything else today.” She led her into the kitchen proper, continuing where she left off when Natalie had come home.
“How?”
Renee frowned, focusing on the broth mixture still in the skillet. She seemed nervous to look at her and was biting the inside of her cheek.
Finally, she caved.
“You forgot your lunch, and I noticed the empty box of granola bars you keep in your truck was in the trash.” She looked abashed, “I could’ve brought you lunch, but…”
The security at the lab would turn her away, and they refused to give her an ID badge, regardless. It made it a bit tricky to visit her inside the facility itself, and while Renee certainly would pick a fight to make sure Nat took care of herself down to something so minor, she convinced her not to.
She still sneaks past security, occasionally. Never for long, always in and out, but always unseen. Her fantôme.
“It’s okay.” She would have forgotten to eat if she did bring something.
Renee blinked, ignoring the pan to study her properly for the first time since she had been home. Her eyes changed, and Natalie could recognize her straining to stay focused on the two of them right now, and not whatever it was going on in her head.
“What are they saying?” She finally took her jacket off, the room growing a bit too stuffy now. Draping it over the nearest chair, she practically collapsed into the seat, resting her head in her hands.
The voidwalker gave a small smile, turning away to dish up their food. “Nothing I don’t already know.”
She makes it a point to turn the volume down on the small radio, something old and arguably crumby, but one of the first things Renee had scavenged for herself for… peace of mind. How fitting it could now be used to help them both. She doesn’t mute it entirely, knowing the background noise sometimes helps, as long as it’s faint and noninvasive.
With a small ‘here’, a plate and silverware were placed in front of her, off to the side to not disturb her leaning. She felt Renee pat the shoulder of her jacket on the chair instead of her real shoulder. It still had the same effect. Her girlfriend sat with her own plate, and they began eating.
Lemon pepper chicken. It was familiar, delicious, and warmed her soul. Still, she could recognize the taste was muted, and only came through so well because of the sharp taste of citrus, the potency of black pepper, and her memory of how it usually tastes filling in the gaps. She had even pre-cut the meat into strips.
Gone were the days when neither of them, but especially Renee, could cook. With Renee’s experience with food scarcity, she insisted on not being wasteful, and while she never pressured her girlfriend to eat any of it, Nat would often feel too guilty if she didn’t try to help eat it. She still thought back on those times fondly. They were so prone to goofing off, still were, actually, that it was a miracle they hadn’t burned the place down yet.
“Bad day?”
She hummed, nodding. The repetitive distraction of eating was taking all her focus, mostly by choice. She was just so tired.
Renee sets down her fork, resting one of her hands, palm side up, on the table.
Natalie realized, then, that her other hand, the one not holding her own fork, was restless in her lap. Tapping her fingers against her palm, forefinger to pinky, pinky to forefinger. She would be clapping, but she knows she needs to eat.
She reached across with her free hand, tracing patterns into her partner’s hand, feeling all the textures, ridges, scars, and calluses. She closes her hand around Renee’s, it feels safe and warm. Love radiates from their point of contact, and she clears her throat at the sudden emotion.
“Should I tell you about my day?” Renee asks quietly.
Another nod. She’s all too aware of how much tension has built in her body, strung out and then wound taut. Right now, Renee’s touch isn’t just that of a lover, it’s the touch of someone who wants to help ground her. A patient presence that never pushes her out of her comfort zone.
So she talks, but she isn’t as good at filling the silence as Natalie is. She still tries though, because she understands, and Nat has done it countless times for her. They finish dinner, Natalie mostly listening, sometimes… off in her head, but Renee was never bothered by it. Her hand never left hers. Even when Nikola sauntered into the kitchen, watching them from the edge of the counter. Renee couldn’t help but include him in her retelling of the day. Much of the same standard stuff, of course, but Natalie appreciated all of it.
Once done, Renee was the one to get up and take away the dishes. She hesitated because she didn’t want to let go, but Natalie made the choice for her, pulling her hand back to clasp both together under the table.
“Let's go to bed, hon.” She felt Renee gently caress her bare arms, afterward, it was ticklish, but in a good way, a way that didn’t itch the back of her brain and cause stress—a pleasant tingle.
“Alright.” She gave a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, but not for lack of trying.
Natalie let herself be guided to their bedroom, she doesn’t remember walking there, but she comes back to awareness when she’s sitting on the edge of the mattress, bunching fabric between her fingers.
“Here.” Renee grabs clothing out of the nearby dresser. She sets the folded stack next to her while she finishes up their nightly routine.
It’s nice to watch her go through the familiar motions. She knows what comes next, since Renee always does things the same way. Whether or not it was for her sake, or a result of her own compulsions, Nat didn’t know, but she was thankful for it.
She heaved herself to her feet, shedding the worries that had caked onto her attire, brushing her hands over herself to dust them off the skin. The scars on her side pulled as she put on her PJs, but it wasn’t weird for them to ache and tighten after a long day.
Renee was already in bed, holding half the sheets back and waiting for her. She couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at her lips, but first…
She glanced over to the bedside table, where a certain something sat silent vigil, debating.
After a moment, her girlfriend spoke up.
“You know he’s always welcome in our bed, Nat.” Amusement laced her words, and sure enough, she punctuated her sentence with a quiet chuckle.
Relief flooded her. While she knew Renee never judged her, she still felt like it was a bother. For her to reassure her about it every time seemed to melt away some of the anxious tension weighing her down. She picked up Nessie, climbing under the sheets and wiggling around until she had made herself comfortable. Only then did Renee rest her arm around her, tucking Natalie’s head under her chin, while the plushie was hugged tightly between them.
Natalie was quick to stroke the well-worn fabric, the wear mostly concentrated around the head and neck where she so often pets her childhood friend. She took a long breath, noticing the new scent. She exchanged the Nessie for Renee’s silken hair, freshly washed. It was rare for it to be down like this, even when sleeping she usually kept it in the bun, or even a ponytail, for convenience.
“New shampoo?” She asked, practically nuzzling like a cat into her girlfriend’s throat, the stray black hairs tickling her nose. She could feel her heartbeat acting like a lullaby.
“Mmhmm. A little birdie said you might like coconut.” Renee swirled a thumb along the skin of her waist, where her shirt was riding up.
She shivered. “Well, I do.” Face moved to press directly into the dark curtain as she loudly sniffed. Faintly sweet.
Her normally hardass skirmisher snorted a laugh at her overly exaggerated antics, before leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. Natalie smiled, relishing the feeling of those lips. She waited for her to move back, only to follow back with a long, chaste kiss against her lips. Soft, Renee had used chapstick earlier. She finished with a flourish of pecks all over, giggling for the first time in hours as Renee had to brace herself on her elbows from the onslaught.
“Merci, Renee.” Natalie usually reserved her real name for when she was serious, or emotional, and that hadn’t changed.
Her partner just gave her a knowing smile, moving to curl up with her once more. “I’m always here for you, you know that.”
Oh, she knew. She knew very well. As someone who took on too many problems that weren’t her own, it was nice to simply… have someone do that for her.
While Renee began to softly hum a tune that could be a figment of her forgotten past, or simply something she came up with in the moment, one day, Natalie couldn’t help but join in. Whatever the case was for her tune, it wasn’t the first time she had heard it, or even the second, or third. It was always the same little arrangement of notes, but it was yet another routine, this one more subdued but no less practiced through repetition.
“Je t’aime,” Natalie mumbled, not only from being on the verge of falling asleep but because her face was still buried.
Still, the older woman heard her. She smiled to herself, an outright grin that almost looked out of place for her. Even if Nat had already passed out, she said it anyway.
“Love you too, Sparky.”