post-allpocalypse - location: unknown

[27_53]

There is a flash.

And then they are no longer gone.


The shift disorients him, but not as much as the shift into Milliways-space did. The air is breathable, here; the gravity familiar, like the comforting weight of an old quilt that you've slept with for years.

it does not taste of death on his tongue

He does not crash-land this time, either - though they hit the earth with a soft thwump.

Skellig feels grief ripple through his veins as his feet bruise and break the stems of a small patch of wildflowers upon touchdown. (They did not deserve it. Not like the lobsters.) The scent of ozone clings to the both of them, but the gentle, warm breeze helps to begin to wash it away.

He walks them into the barn, still carrying her (by this point, he has her cradled to his chest, her arms wound tightly around his neck) and the familiar shadows and dust motes of home are there to greet them.

There is a pile of comfortable blankets up above in the hayloft. He gets them there.

And only then does he let her go.

(Gently. So gently. She is so tired, and so is he. They have earned a rest.)