Private Zinflix and Chill

[Varin Mortifer]

He looked at her. Gazing in her eyes as she spoke. He didn't flinch when her fingers curled around his hand, or when her thumb ran across its flesh.

The warmth in her gestures signaling that the atmosphere around them was quiet, slow, warm and relaxed.

He listened to her, and he thought. He thought on her words, digesting them. After a moment of silence and reflection he pulled his pack over to him.

“I do have a small purpose here though.”

He slowly opened it. Inside the bag was full of odds and ends. Things that looked uninteresting or mundane. Until he pulled out a small bag. Big enough to fit in the palm of her hand. No larger nor smaller.

“It took me some time. But I had made this for you.”

He gently set it in her hand.

“My hands are used to working with things that are much larger. This truly did put my skills to the test. Far more challenging than any armor or weapon I had forged. It is delicate. But it is yours.”

He waited for her to open it.

“It's sacred on my planet. A rare crystal used for remembrance or funerals.”

He spoke quietly as he watched her hands.

“To forge one, takes great care, and a touch that is light enough to hold a snowflake.”

He looked her in the eyes.

“Just be sure to really take care of it.”

He offered her a soft smile.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not open her hand right away.

She let the small weight rest there first, palm closing gently around the bag as if acknowledging it before examining it, her thumb brushing the fabric in a slow, thoughtful motion. When she finally lifted her gaze to him, there was no surprise in her expression, but there was something softer than before, something quietly moved.

"You didn't have to give me a purpose to justify being here," she said softly, though there was no reproach in it, only truth. "But I understand why you did."

She opened the bag carefully, with the same deliberate patience she used when handling fragile artifacts or newly dried herbs, her breath slowing as the crystal revealed itself. For a long moment, she simply looked at it, the way one does when they recognize meaning before fully understanding it.

"This wasn't made quickly," Seren continued, her voice lower now, reverent rather than impressed. "I can feel that. Not just the material, but the intention behind it. You didn't shape this to be impressive. You shaped it to endure being held."

Her fingers closed around the crystal again, protective, instinctive, as if it already belonged where it rested.

"On my path, remembrance is not something we mark with stone or ceremony," she said after a breath. "It's carried. Quietly. Often alone. This…" her thumb traced the edge with care, "…this gives that weight a form."

She looked back to him then, truly looking, her free hand tightening gently over his where it still rested near hers.

"I know what it costs to work with something that can be ruined by impatience," Seren said, meeting his eyes. "And I know what it means to offer something sacred without asking for anything in return."

A faint smile touched her lips, restrained but genuine.

"I will take care of it," she promised, not lightly. "Not because you asked, but because I know what it represents."

She drew a little closer, just enough that the space between them felt intentional rather than incidental, the crystal now secure in her grasp.

"Thank you," Seren said quietly. "For trusting me with something made by hands that usually shape storms."

And this time, when her thumb brushed his knuckles, it lingered.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin watched as she opened her gift, the expression change on her face, the body language.

“The purpose was that I wanted you to have something of mine. So I gift you my time, energy and something that is a part of me.”

His fingers traced her hair as his gaze locked with hers.

“To make one of these is a true test of delicacy and patience.”

His thumb gently grazed her cheek.

“I feel you have done the same with me, so I wanted to show you my appreciation for it.”

He watched her hands close around the crystal seed.

“To hold something of remembrance where I come from, is to feel the weight of what was lost or gained. It gives measurement and value.”

He gently kissed her forehead as her thumb lingered. Gently he placed his hands around hers.

“Even storms can make small beauties.”

He looked back to when he forged the crystal seed. The hours, the sweat, the heat the force imprinting he put in, and the imperfections he had to toss. The project was strenuous and difficult. But nothing was easy when it was truly worth it.

“Just plant it like any seed wherever add some water, oddly enough. The crystal does thirst.”

He looked down at the violet seed in her hand.

“In case you need me close but I can't be there. This will help with that.”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not speak right away.

She turned the crystal seed slowly in her palm, feeling its weight, its temperature, the quiet resonance, unmistakably his, threaded through it. Not imposed. Not claimed. Offered. That distinction mattered more than anything else.

When she finally looked up at him, there was no guarded calculation in her expression, no scholar's distance. Just something open and unhidden.

"You understand exactly what you're giving," she said softly. "And that is why it means something."

Her fingers closed around the seed, not possessive, but protective, as if acknowledging the care it demanded. When his thumb brushed her cheek, she did not pull away. She leaned into the touch, just slightly, enough to let him feel that it was welcome.

"Time and energy are never small gifts," Seren continued, her voice low, steady. "They are the only ones that cannot be reclaimed once given."

She lifted her free hand, resting it over his where it still hovered near hers, grounding him as much as herself.

"Where I come from," she added, "remembrance is not about holding onto loss. It's about refusing to let meaning dissolve."

The kiss to her forehead stilled her for a breath. When she exhaled, it was slow, centered, deliberate.

"I will not treat this lightly," Seren said, meeting his gaze again. "Not because it is fragile, but because it was made with intention. That deserves to be honored."

She turned the seed once more, then tucked it carefully away, close to her, where it would not be jostled or forgotten.

"And if it grows," she finished quietly, "it will not be because of the storm alone. It will be because someone chose to tend it."

Her fingers threaded with his again, natural now, unhesitating.

"Thank you," Seren said simply. "For trusting me with something that carries you."

She did not say what it meant to her beyond that. She did not need to. The way she stayed close, the way she did not let go, answered the rest.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

“I always felt that something made for someone was worth holding on to. The dedication to just make something, anything for someone shows how much they care that they are willing to put aside any feeling of embarrassment, or nervousness. Just to give the receiver a glimpse of their true selves.”

He let out a slow soft exhale when her hand rose to meet his. The feel of her touch reminding him where he was, and how he had gotten here.

He chuckled lightly.

“We don’t hold on to the loss. We honor those who had fallen. This though, is a bit different than that. A remembrance of how you helped me rise. Though we haven’t known each other for too long, the connection is undeniable.”

He listened to her breathe. The slow ease of tension from her chest, showing the sign of acceptance and comfort in his arms. To him that mattered so much more than she might have believed.

“It’s never been tested in soil like Malachor. But though it is delicate, it is still a hearty growth. I have a feeling it will flourish here. Especially while you look after it.”

He looked into her eyes a small exhale leaving him like a silent chuckle as his free hand rested its thumb on her chin.

“I don’t think I could have picked a better person to watch after it. You thrive in patience and understanding, you show care to what it is that grows in your garden. Even in pruning the weeds, you show that you care. That nourishes the seed.”

His hand gently ran up her arm to her shoulder as he slowly leaned in closer to her. The beating in his chest, though quick, was steady. Not a beat of anxiety, but a beat born from readiness. Last time he was surprised when she had kissed him, this time he would lead it.

His lips softly pressed to hers as he held her close. The warmth of the hearth and his body giving off a heat of comfort and belonging, as if she were in a massive full embrace.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not pull away when he kissed her. She accepted it as it came unhurried and intentional. When it ended, she stayed close, her forehead resting lightly against his for a moment longer than necessary.

Her breath was steady when she spoke, quieter than before, as though she were careful not to disturb what had settled between them.

"You're right," she said softly. "Something made with care carries more than its shape. It carries the moment someone chose to be seen."

Her hand remained over his, her thumb brushing along his knuckles in a slow, grounding motion.

"That isn't embarrassment," Seren continued. "Or weakness. It's the courage of a quieter kind. The kind that offers without knowing how it will be received."

She glanced down briefly at the crystal seed still cradled between them, then back up to him.

"I don't see it as something meant to remember loss," she said. "I see it as something that marks a turning. A point where effort stopped being solitary."

Her fingers tightened slightly at his shoulder, not claiming, not restraining, simply there.

"Malachor isn't gentle," Seren added, a faint hint of warmth touching her voice. "But neither is growth. Things that survive here learn patience by necessity."

She lifted her gaze fully to his, unguarded now.

"I will take care of it," she said. "Not because it needs protection…but because it deserves attention."

Her hand rose then, resting briefly at his jaw, her thumb brushing along his cheek in a mirror of his earlier touch.

"And I don't think you're wrong," Seren finished quietly. "Some things only take root when someone is willing to stay."

She did not pull away after that. She stayed within the warmth of him, allowing the moment to remain what it was, not rushed forward, not defined too tightly, simply real and shared.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

His eye closed as he rested his forehead on hers, he breathed slowly as she spoke quietly. He would not dare interrupt the special moment they shared right now. And he would listen as she spoke, enjoying the closeness as their hands cradled the seed between them, his head leaned into her touch on his jaw. She would feel his jaw tighten for a split second, then slowly loosen as he embraced the touch.

When she lifted her gaze to him, he matched her.

A smile crept up on his face when she agreed to care for the seed and its growth.

“Hearing you say that, it brings me relief really. To accept a shared effort for something to grow, to thrive.”

His hand slowly pulled from her chin and rested on her hand over his shoulder.

“Malachor is not gentle, no. But it tests. And whatever overcomes that test is rewarded. You and I both know Malachor never gives anything for free, there is always a price. But whatever you get from it, is earned.”

He gently placed her hand over his chest. The heavy thudding beneath his breast bone that was once quick, had begun to gradual to a slower state. The heat of his body began to cool as it realised it was no longer in a place of endurance or survival. But a place to breathe.

“I have something small to admit to you.”

He looked her in the eye.

“When we first met, I didn’t know our journey would lead us here. I still don’t know where it will lead us in the future. But to know that my first visit to find you has brought me, and you, this far through learning and experience. It stamps out most of the voices I had always struggled with.”

He slowly exhaled, the breath left his lungs in a soft shiver.

“The thoughts of having to face everything alone and on my shoulders, the thoughts of always failing. Though sometimes they still rear their heads, I am more equipped now to block them out.”

He placed his arm around her, sitting closer to her, just enough space to breathe, but little distance was apart between them. He eased into her, and adjusted to help her ease in as well. The moment they currently shared was only for them and them alone. He would make sure of that. He would make sure that she knew that while he was here, he always had her, just like how she always had him. Though the room was quiet, it was not silent. It was full of noise to him, the kind of noise that were pleasantries and comfort. The kind of noise he rarely indulged in, but would always welcome again and again.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not pull away from him when he leaned in. If anything, she let the space between them disappear naturally, the way breath does when two people stop holding it. Her hand stayed over his chest, not pressing, not testing, simply resting there as if to learn the rhythm rather than control it. She felt the slowing beneath her palm and allowed herself a quiet exhale of her own.

When she spoke, it was close, low, meant only for him.

"Shared effort changes the shape of things," she said softly. "Growth doesn't feel like a burden when it isn't carried by one set of hands alone. It stops being something you endure and becomes something you tend."

Her thumb brushed lightly against his knuckles, a small, grounding motion, while her gaze stayed on his.

"Malachor does test," Seren continued, her tone thoughtful rather than severe. "But it also reveals. What survives here is not what is strongest in the moment, but what is willing to adapt without hollowing itself out. The price is patience. The reward is knowing what you are made of."

She listened as he spoke, truly listened, without interrupting or correcting, without trying to soften the truth of what he was admitting. When he finished, she did not rush to answer. She let the quiet settle, let his words have somewhere to land.

Her free hand came up, fingers resting briefly at his wrist, anchoring him there.

"You don't need to know where this leads," she said at last. "Certainty is not a requirement for connection. Presence is."

Her gaze softened, not with pity, but with recognition.

"The voices you describe don't vanish because someone else appears," Seren added gently. "They're quiet because you finally have somewhere safe to set them down. Even if only for a while."

When he shifted closer, she adjusted with him without comment, fitting naturally into the space he made, her shoulder brushing his, her posture easy and unguarded. There was no claim in it, no promise spoken aloud. Just steadiness.

"You are not required to carry everything alone here," she murmured. "Not tonight. Not in this moment."

She stayed with him like that, letting the hearth hum and the quiet fill itself with something warmer than silence, content to simply be present with him, unhurried, unafraid of what came next.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

“It always helps when someone helps watch your back, as you watch theirs.”

His hand held hers loosely in his grip. Enough to support, with enough room for her to readjust if she needed to.

“Growth and change always seems less overwhelming than when you face it alone.”

He looked at their hands.

“Part of the fun is not knowing where your journey leads you. The growth being the steps you take on the way to meeting the end of your journey is the most important part. The destination is the bonus.”

He exhaled softly through his nose when she spoke of the voices he faced.

“No, they don’t disappear. But they do get quieter. Especially when you have someone to focus on. It helps, when the person is present. It’s something I noticed really quickly. And I’m not just speaking of Ignati.”

He looked at her.

“I choose to lay my burdens aside tonight.”

His hand gently ran up to her forearm.

“In this moment, I choose to remain in the quiet with you.”

He looked back at his pack.

“I also figured, you would like to enjoy some holodramas with me tonight. Something simple, something quiet and something shared. Just you and me.”

His eye tracked back to her, the itch under the patch now became a distant memory that he had long forgotten. Taken over by something more important to him than minor discomfort. No, not something more important, but someone more important.

He did not really know what he would call what he felt about her, but he knew he deeply cared for her.

He gently kissed her hand.

“But that can wait for now if you wish.”

He smiled.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren let his words settle before she answered, her thumb still resting lightly along his forearm, tracing a slow, absent line there as if grounding both of them in the same quiet moment. The small kiss to her hand drew a faint curve to her mouth, not amusement exactly, but something warmer and more private.

"Laying burdens aside is a choice most people never allow themselves to make," she said softly. "So if you are choosing it tonight, then I will respect it and keep the world from knocking too loudly at the door."

She shifted just enough to look at him more fully, her posture relaxed, unguarded, the kind of ease she rarely shared with anyone.

"Before we disappear into holodramas and shared quiet," Seren continued, her tone gentle, almost practical beneath the warmth, "are you hungry?"

A pause, brief but deliberate, before the corner of her mouth lifted a little more.

"Actually," she added, "even if you aren't, I'm making popcorn anyway. Some habits are nonnegotiable, especially on nights meant for rest."

Her hand slipped free of his just long enough for her to gesture vaguely toward the hearth and the small storage shelves nearby, already mentally cataloging what she needed, before returning to rest against his arm again.

"Holodramas sound like a good way to let the evening unfold without demanding anything from either of us," she said, her gaze steady on his. "Do you have anything new, or are we revisiting something familiar?"

There was no urgency in her question, no expectation attached to it, only quiet curiosity and an invitation to let the night be simple, shared, and unhurried.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He chuckled.

“The next person who knocks on that door will get a very rude awakening.”

His jest landing lightly, almost blurting out without control.

His brow lifted at her question for if he was hungry, and his stomach quietly rumbled.

“I guess I am. I don’t think I have had popcorn.”

He watched her grab the snack as he set up the datapad, browsing the different shows and movies. So many options and decisions. The slight cracks on the screen altering the pictures just barely, but it was noticeable.

“Perhaps I should get a new datapad. I’ve had this one since I started in the academy on Korriban. I didn’t understand it at first so I would mash the screen a lot.”

He thought.

“Come to think of it, this one isn’t even mine. I stole it from a student before I went to my first actual class.”

The fond memory of meeting some now very familiar faces brought a faint smile to his lips. He scrolled through the many titles before he decided to look at specific genres. Stopping at a section for force philosophy. Something tugged him into that direction as he browsed the titles, finally settling on one.

“I was thinking of something new for the both of us. Something to make us forget what is out there for now, but allows us to think.”

The screen flashed lightly as the holodrama started loading up.

“Aparently this one has a lot of darker undertones and delves more into force philosophy.”

He looked at her as he leaned back.

“It sounded pretty interesting.”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren glanced over her shoulder at the datapad as she set the popcorn aside, the faint rumble from him earning a soft, knowing huff of amusement.

"That answers that," she said lightly. "Malachor may test many things, but it does not override hunger."

She listened as he spoke about the datapad, the cracked screen, the mashing, the theft, and the academy, and there was a quiet fondness in the way her gaze lingered on him while he talked. Not judgment. Not correction. Just the calm acceptance of someone who understood that history was often carried in imperfect, slightly broken things.

When the holodrama began to load, and the screen flickered, Seren rose smoothly from her seat and crossed the room, stopping near the wall where a dormant holo-panel was set into the stone. She rested one hand against the cool surface, glancing back at him.

"You don't have to watch it on that," she said, nodding toward the datapad. "The wall holo will sync with it easily. Larger display, clearer resolution, and less strain on your eye."

A brief pause, then a quieter addition.

"Especially now."

She turned back to the panel and tapped a simple activation sequence, the surface flickering to life in a soft, ambient glow.

"If this one leans into philosophy and darker questions," Seren continued, her voice even, "I'd rather see it properly. Some ideas deserve space to breathe instead of being trapped behind a cracked screen."

She glanced back at him, one brow lifting faintly.

"Hook it up," she said. "Popcorn, philosophy, and a little forgetting the rest of the galaxy sounds like a solid plan for the night."

She settled back closer to him once more, ready to let the holodrama begin, the room already shifting into a quieter, shared rhythm.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He looked at the holo panel and back at the small datapad.

Hook it up?

Varin’s brain started turning the gears as he attempted to understand what she meant.

Boy, I think she is telling you to connect the datapad to the panel.

Ignati’s suggestion drew a short exhale through Varin’s nose.

Well, obviously…But uhh…

Ignati let out a deep slightly annoyed sigh.

Go to the settings…

Varin’s finger tapped the screen back to home page, sliding through the different screens and icons. Multiple times he passed over the setting icon.

It’s right there, boy…no go back…other page…STOP

Varin stopped flipping through the screens where the icons waited for his decision.

Alright, now I want you to look at each icon VERY carefully.

Varin’s eye glanced over each icon over the screen before he tapped the settings. There he found the setting for connecting to the holopanel and accepted.

Relief washed over him when he finally figured out….but it was short lived when the holopanel lit up with his old Zinder account from some time ago. Ads blared over the speaker as he quickly tried to exit the site only to open up more windows with his larger fingers.

“No…no…no, no, no no no no”

He was mumbling to himself as he lightly smacked the datapad.

“Shutuuuuuup please….”

He glanced at Seren with a nervous smile before he finally gave up and leaned back with a deep sigh.

“It…uh….sometimes just hates me I swear.”

Ignati let out a laugh in his head, not like his howling laughter of mockery but one of genuine humor.

*Good cover up, boy.”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren froze for half a heartbeat when the wall holo flared to life.

Then the ads hit.

Her eyes flicked from the holo to Varin, then back again as the noise filled the space, bright colors and overly enthusiastic voices echoing off stone that had once only known silence and fire.

For exactly one second, she simply stared.

Then she laughed.

Not sharp. Not mocking. A low, surprised sound that slipped out before she could stop it, followed by her lifting a hand to cover her mouth as she turned slightly away, shoulders shaking just a little.

"Oh," she said after a moment, voice warm with unmistakable amusement. "So this is the legendary terror of Carcosa."

She stepped closer, reaching out to the panel with calm precision, silencing the ads in two clean motions. The room settled immediately, the hearth resuming its quiet hum as if nothing had happened.

Seren glanced back at him then, and there was no judgment in her expression at all. Just fondness. Real, unguarded fondness.

"It doesn't hate you," she said gently. "It's just unused to being handled by someone who solves problems with intent instead of menus."

She leaned back against the stone beside him, close enough that her shoulder brushed his arm.

"Besides," she added, a quiet smile curving her mouth, "if that is the worst thing your datapad reveals, I would say you are doing remarkably well."

Her gaze softened as she watched him for a moment longer.

"Next time," Seren continued, tone lightly conspiratorial, "I will walk you through it. Slowly. Without witnesses."

She nodded toward the now calm holo display.

"Now," she said, settling in beside him, "let's see this philosophy piece you chose. And then we eat popcorn like people who have nowhere else they need to be."

The quiet returned, but this time it carried warmth, shared humor, and the easy comfort of a small, human mishap handled without consequence.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

His mouth opened slightly when she mentioned his home planet, not that that was the biggest shocker, but he was finally able to hear her laugh. The sound shocked him a bit when he saw her shoulder shake, thinking she was crying. Then it all made sense when he noticed the curve of her mouth.

Terror of Carcosa

It had a very nice ring to it. Her comment pulled a small laugh from him. He didn't mind the name.

“I think I like the sound of that.”

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Are there worse things?”

He thought for a moment, the possibilities of what could have been shown, things much more embarrassing than an old Zinder profile. Luckily that was the extent of embarrassing things on his datapad.

“It’s probably best that I don’t know. A lot of…strange people out there.”

The holopanel finally changed over to the show he was planning on watching with her.

The Shadow of Doctrine

Varin reached his hand down to grab a small handful of popcorn, plopping a couple into his mouth.

“I heard some pretty good stuff about this one after looking into it.”

He looked at her then back to the screen, his hand slowly finding hers in his, fingers gently intertwining with hers. He rested his hand with hers where they were. Held loosely as the show began.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren's shoulders shook again, but this time the laughter softened into something quieter as the holopanel finally behaved itself. She glanced sidelong at him when he asked if there were worse things, one brow lifting in a way that suggested both amusement and discretion.

"There are always worse things," she said lightly, "but most of them are only dangerous if you insist on excavating them."

Her gaze flicked briefly to the screen as the title resolved, then back to him, a faint smile touching the corner of her mouth.

"Terror of Carcosa suits you better than you think," Seren added, not unkindly. "It sounds intimidating until you realize it mostly just implies endurance."

She reached for the bowl herself, taking a small handful of popcorn, clearly more curious than hungry, and settled back against the cushions as the opening moments of The Shadow of Doctrine began to unfold. When his fingers found hers, she did not hesitate or startle. She simply let her hand turn slightly in his, her thumb resting against his knuckles in a quiet, grounding touch.

"I've heard of this one," she murmured, eyes on the screen now, voice low and unhurried. "It asks uncomfortable questions and never gives clean answers. That usually means it's worth the time."

She leaned just enough that their shoulders brushed, the hearth's warmth and the holopanel's glow filling the space between them.

"If it's terrible," Seren added softly, "we can blame your datapad. If it's good… we'll pretend this was all very intentional."

Her fingers tightened briefly with his as the first scene played out, content to let the night unfold slowly, one shared moment at a time.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

“If it’s terrible,”

He looked at her with a smirk.

“Then my masterminded scheme to hold your hand worked, my Lady.”

He gave her a playful wink as he picked up his arm to place it over her shoulders, offering her a way to lay more comfortably against him.

“But if it is decent, then it’s a bonus. Intentional or not.”

He relaxed into the couch as the show finally started, introducing characters and surface level information about them. Varin so far found it rather easy to follow, not simple, but easy. Sometimes he would have a hard time keeping track of what was happening in shows like this, but so far the road was paved clear.

Light tension, small character conflict and an overarching plot that drew them towards an unknown hook.

His biggest issue was remembering their names as the first episode continued.

It was different in terms of pace. Usually in shows that he had playing in the background for noise, the plot was simple, straight forward and very mainline. Already this one seemed to raise questions and delve slightly into the feeling of confusion and paranoia.

“Already the characters seem a bit…tangled? Is the best way I can describe it.”

He looked at her then back to the screen, doing his best to keep track of the plot that was laid before them.

He grabbed another small handful of popcorn, slowly munching on it as he began to get lost into the show.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren shifted easily into the space his arm offered, settling against him with a quiet familiarity that suggested she had no intention of moving again unless absolutely necessary. Her head angled just enough that she could still see the holopanel clearly, the light tracing along her cheek as the opening sequence unfolded.

At his comment, a soft breath of amusement escaped her.

"Tangled is generous," she murmured, eyes tracking the screen rather than him. "They're already lying to themselves, and the story hasn't even decided who deserves the truth yet."

She watched as the scene shifted again, a different perspective, a different thread, clearly related but not yet intersecting.

"Notice how each arc feels self-contained," Seren continued quietly. "Different motives, different fears, different versions of the same event. The narrative isn't moving forward in a straight line. It's circling."

Her fingers idly brushed against his side as she spoke, absent, thoughtful.

"That kind of structure usually means the conflict isn't external," she added. "It's internal. Everyone thinks they're reacting to the world, but they're really reacting to what they refuse to acknowledge about themselves."

Another scene cut in, sharper, more tense than the last.

"When stories do this," Seren said, almost conversationally, "it's less about what happens and more about who breaks first when their version of reality stops lining up with everyone else's."

She finally glanced up at him, the faintest curve of a smile there.

"If it keeps this pace, it's going to punish anyone who assumes they understand it too early," she added. "Which, admittedly, makes it more interesting."

She settled back in, comfortably ensconced against him, attention returning to the screen as the threads continued to weave together.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He watched the show as she helped enlighten him on the current happenings in the plot. Already the scene had shifted, introducing some complications to the characters. His fingers gently and absentmindedly massaged her shoulder as he watched.

“Each arc definitely seems like a complete change, yet familiar.”

He spoke slowly as the scene changed to something more tense.

“Who’s to say they deserve the truth though? My bet is that they will never find the truth.”

He looked back at her as he responded, a faint smile appearing in his face as his eye drifted back to the screen. The massaging slowly came to a halt, almost unnoticeable, as his focus delved deeper into the show. Somethings began to click with him, and started to make sense. But he knew it was too early in the plot for things to click so easily.

It felt like a push into one direction only to be pulled further back, though it wasn’t an annoyance. It was a way to tick certain theories developing in his head away. The show was following through with its promised purpose. It was making him think, turning the gears in his head. Making him ask questions and causing him to pay more attention to details in the background than the foreground.

He looked at her.

“I see what you mean now.”

He looked back at the screen.

“Already I have had ideas on what could happen or what certain motives were, only for it to be cast aside.”

Though the clicks that he had were cast aside it was done in such a way that he had to know what would happen, that he needed to understand why and how it happened. The show focused on not just the characters but their different obsessions that they were called to, seemingly unrelated to each other.

Varin blinked a few times as he caught a few things in the background of the show, but he chose not to draw attention to it. “Backseat show watching” he called it, when you try to make someone see what it is you see, is not always fun. Especially with these kinds of shows that promotes individual thinking, and how differently people can process things. What he saw she might not catch and vice versa for him.

He remained quiet as they continued watching their show, enjoying the warmth and the closeness with her. Even if they didn’t have a screen, he knew he would still enjoy the time with her. It was always the case, even after losing an eye, if he could go back and change anything of that day, he wouldn’t.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not immediately answer him. She stayed still beneath his touch, letting the quiet rhythm of the show settle around them, letting the pattern he was beginning to see finish forming in its own time. When she did speak, her voice was low, thoughtful, threaded with something gentler than analysis.

"I don't think the story cares whether they deserve the truth," she said softly. "Only whether they can survive it."

Her gaze stayed on the holopanel as another thread unfolded, familiar shapes rearranged into something slightly more distorted.

"Most narratives like this treat truth as an intrusion," Seren continued. "Something that arrives uninvited and rearranges everything it touches. That's why it keeps slipping away from them. The moment someone thinks they've earned it, the story takes it somewhere else."

She shifted just enough to rest more fully against him, her shoulder pressing into his chest, an unspoken acknowledgment of the closeness he'd offered without comment.

"What you're feeling," she added quietly, "that push and pull, the way your theories form and then collapse, that's intentional. The show isn't trying to be solved. It's trying to teach you how easily certainty breaks when you lean on it too hard."

Her fingers brushed lightly against his forearm now, grounding rather than distracting.

"Pay attention to what keeps returning," Seren said. "Not the answers, but the obsessions. Those are the real constants. Everything else is decoration."

She glanced up at him briefly, a small, knowing curve to her mouth.

"You're doing exactly what it wants you to do," she murmured. "Thinking, doubting, noticing the wrong things first."

Then she settled again, comfortable and unguarded, letting the silence between them fill with shared attention rather than words, content to watch the story unfold beside him rather than ahead of him.

Varin Mortifer