milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Anthy is cradling a mug of hot chocolate between her hands, and slowly unwrapping some green tea candies; it's a lazy afternoon -- her day off -- and she's enjoying the cold pale sunlight, so different from Houou's.

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River thoughtfully puts another fried paradox in her mouth. It crunches.

Spotting Anthy, she beams at her in greeting.

Anthy smiles back, lifting one hand in a half-wave, and reaches for her food.

River's booth has room for one more.

That it does.

River shifts the paradoxes a careful inch to make room for Anthy's food.

"Hello, River," says Anthy, settling into the cushioned seat. The paradoxes she ignores, but she offers River a green tea candy. They're wrapped in foil! "How have you been?"

River accepts happily.

"There's no snow on the ship."

This is a sad thing, her tone implies, but nothing to get really worked up over.

"There's water," Anthy offers. (Or so she hopes.)

"What makes water turn to snow instead of ice?"

"In the clouds. Crystalization follows different forms due to atmospheric variation in the stratosphere."

She smiles, sudden and sunny.

"Snowflakes are made of ice. Miniaturized."

Sometimes River sounds like a duel song.

"Oh."

She glances toward the windows; outside the snow's formed a glittering blanket.

"But . . . not packed so tightly?"

"It's in shapes."

River happily sketches a snowflake on the table, with her finger. It leaves a faint greasy trail, thanks to the fried paradoxes.

"Points and spines. The assembly is precariously symmetrical."

"Yes," says Anthy, doubtfully, and, brushing the design with one finger, "But are these lines of ice?"

"Lines and holes. They aspire to be fractal."

"There are photographs."

Anthy does not ask what a fractal is.

Instead, she drinks some tea, and eats another piece of candy. It tastes like green.

Slowly: "Photographs."

Yes.

It's a word.

Thank you, Anthy.

River would explain!

...This is why it's probably wise of Anthy to not ask.

River nods happily. "Electron and light-spectrum. They magnify the snowflakes."

Disturbed: "They do?"

Anthy is imagining snowflakes growing to many times their ordinary size in the flash of the camera's bulb.

This isn't a stretch. In her world, cameras can give orgasms.

River blinks at her tone.

More tentatively, "Lenses."

"I don't wear them anymore," says Anthy, matching her tentative tone.

"Part of the camera."

Beat.

"Not yours."

"Oh." Vaguely.

Anthy is distracted by her tea.

River follows her gaze, just in case there's something unusually interesting about the tea.

In River's world, you never know.

. . . the only interesting thing about it is that it was hot chocolate all along.

But that's the narrator's fault. Anthy doesn't even notice.

She tucks her toes against the back of the booth, and straightens her shoulders.

It might have been tea for a moment.

For River, anyway.

River tilts her head, regarding Anthy with the mild lingering confusion which is often a result of their conversations, and then offers her the bowl of paradoxes with a small smile.

Oh, good save.

"Thank you."

Anthy selects one, dips it in her hot chocolate, and has a small bite. From all appearances, they go well together.

Hazily aware that this doesn't quite constitute a conversation, she adds, "How is Simon?"

"He's on honeymoon."

In... the ship.

So, like every other day.

But with more silly smiles at Kaylee.

"Oh? Where?"

Anthy is too cool to read your narration.

That's okay; the narrative's there as a concession to coherence.

"Dream gave them passage papers. Otherwise they stay with Serenity."

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