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Like time sliced thinly [Åsa/Ása]
Title: Like time sliced thinly
Fandom: A Redtail's Dream & Stand Still Stay Silent
Characters/Pairing: Åsa Skärsholm/Ása Harðardóttir
Rating: 18+
Length: 4.4k
Summary: Ása said that her ability to visit was magic. Maybe it was.
Other: Written for Laufey for the Fandom Trumps Hate charity auction. Thanks for bidding on me!
Prompt for this was: Åsa/Ása, aRTD x SSSS crossover, with the two of them living in their own timelines/worlds but still meeting in some way, and taking place during a broad span of time during their lives.
Like time sliced thinly
Slice the world like a fish's belly
with a knife found in
a second-hand shop
sharp as frost
its gleaming blade
taking you to another world
to find your everything
A store in town. That was where she had found it. Priced down low because of nicks to the handle, a split in the bone that couldn't be repaired.
All hers.
A bit fancy for a fish knife, maybe. But that was fine by her.
She dreamed. And in her dreams, Åsa could do amazing things.
In her mind, Åsa hummed as she walked along the shore, forest to one side of her and water on the other. Nothing to worry about, and nobody else around her. This was her special spot, and nobody in the world knew about it.
Her knife was magical. Åsa knew that. In her guts, she knew it.
In her pockets, she had trinkets. A shiny stone. A flower wrapped in wax paper. Needle and thread folded together with a bit of scrap fabric.
She had her knife with her, too.
And she slipped it out, and sliced the air, and stepped forward.
She was there. That girl with the stormy eyes. She sat on a bench with a small fabric bag at her side and a strand of yarn slipping out of it to the needles in her hands, a half-finished mitten on them.
Ása didn't even look up.
"You again," she said, as if she had been expecting Åsa all along. And maybe she had.
"Me again." Åsa plunked herself down near her, feet swinging.
"I don't know where the hell you come and go from," Ása muttered. "I blink and you're here; then I blink again and you're gone."
Åsa laughed. "Like magic?"
Ása snorted, but said nothing.
Grey sky, thin sunlight shining through. Hardly any trees, and wasn't that odd. Strange place with strange people. Mountains rising in the distance. Exhausted expressions, and hunger on pinched faces. It was a look she'd seen before.
But she didn't ask, and Ása never said.
These were not her times, she knew. This wasn't her world or her home. But they were hungry times, and one didn't ask about these things.
Maybe she'd find out more eventually. But it didn't matter, anyway.
What mattered was that Ása was there.
Cut myself into your life
the space and time between us
growing back like brambles by day
I'll carve myself a place to exist
if you can't.
They knew better than to ask how or why.
Some things weren't for either of them to know, and the matter of this, as far as they were both concerned – well, that was one of those things.
Ása called it magic.
Maybe it was.
She worked this magic in her dreams. Kept the knife close by at night. And when her head hit the pillow, Åsa opened her eyes, and opened her eyes again.
In the morning, after spending all evening roaming through Iceland with Ása, she would wake feeling as if she had walked to the end of the earth.
Maybe she had.
And this was why she could only see her occasionally.
"I still don't believe it," Ása had told her, cupping her face as if by doing that she could prove that it was all a hoax. "It doesn't make a lick of sense that you can come here like this. You feel as real as anything."
"I know," Åsa said, and closed her eyes. She took a second to enjoy the way it felt, the sensation of Ása's roughened fingertips on her cheeks. "But it is what it is, right?"
There was a huff. But nothing else. Ása couldn't argue with that. Or was she accustomed to taking things as they came, because there was no other option? She had said, once, that adapting to the unexpected was something everyone had to do if they wanted to exist. Even here, the safest place in the world.
Like so many things, it was best not to overthink this.
The entire world, Ása's world, was ragged and worn. Everything had a shabby, tattered look. There was something familiar about the way it felt, this tired and hungry place, but other aspects of it didn't look like anything Åsa had ever seen.
The barriers along the shoreline. The way people avoided going down by the water, unless they absolutely had to go near it; those ones who were desperate enough that they'd take even the worst work. The whispering threat of disease.
Ása had explained it once, many years earlier. Or tried to.
"Like the black plague? Or, um, the Spanish flu?" Åsa had asked, trying to wrap her head around it.
"Like the what?"
As much as they both tried to explain what the other meant, it was beyond the abilities of both of them.
At the very least, in the shabby clothes she tended to favour, Åsa didn't stick out too much. With her friend's advice, she could pass for someone who belonged there, and that suited them both fine.
I would cross the ocean for you.
I would cross time for you.
If only I could.
If only I could.
Ása spoke of boats, and of ships, and of sea voyages.
"It's dangerous work," she said. "But I could do with some adventure. Get myself off this rock and see a thing or two."
They were walking side by side, hands in their pockets, heads ducked against the drizzle as they made their way to Ása's small flat. Barely larger than a shoebox, but clean. As if a prediction. As if training herself for a ship's cramped quarters.
"You should sail by Finland," Åsa suggested. "Then you can tell me what it's like there, now."
Ása snorted. "You still don't understand, do you? That place isn't fit for anybody. Too dangerous. I'm surprised they found anybody alive there at all."
Åsa quieted for a moment, thinking about this.
The danger was beyond her imagination. Even with the uncanny air to everything – including the bizarre fact of her being where she was, walking in her sleep to somewhere else – there was one thing she could be sure of.
"I'm not surprised about that," she said. "That they found people there."
If there was one thing that wasn't strange at all, it was that Finland had survived.
Ása's flat was small and cramped. She didn't seem to mind it. The tiny spaces, the hidden storage compartments, a place for everything and everything in its place. If there wasn't a place for it then, as far as Ása was concerned, it didn't need to be there.
They shucked off their outer layers, then sank down onto the bed together.
It had been a while since they had seen each other. Any amount of time apart was too long, in Åsa's opinion, not that they could really do anything about that. But as of late it had been really... really.... She hadn't had time. Neither of them had time, not when Ása was working toward earning the certifications required to apply for a position as captain of a ship. Not when the travel through worlds and time left Åsa feeling so exhausted that any movement made her feel as if she might collapse.
Things had been easier when she was younger. When she had fewer worries and tasks and responsibilities. Now, when she had to help manage her family's fish-packing plant – well. it was a bit different, wasn't it.
But now, they were together. For now. For a while. For a little bit.
She closed her eyes and felt Ása's fingers sliding through her hair. It felt good. A little odd – she hadn't bothered to take off her gloves – but good. If only she could keep this feeling and take it with her. Maybe this was all an elaborate dream, but it didn't matter.
It was hard for her to remember when they had first drawn together like this. The relationship had grown up around them, unexpected. It had been so gradual, so easy. Though at first she had been a little surprised that she felt like this, from the first press of Ása's lips on her mouth, Åsa knew that the fussy little details didn't matter.
What mattered was that they felt the same way about each other.
She heard an irritated sigh.
Åsa opened her eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"My arm's falling asleep."
"Oh! Um. I see. Well..." She tried to shift a bit, moving so that she wasn't quite on top of any stray body parts. There was precious little room on the narrow bed, but somehow they'd managed to cram themselves on it together anyway, and Åsa wasn't about to give up on that just yet.
"Sorry about that," she murmured, nuzzling against Ása's neck, pressing her nose against a bit of exposed skin. "Not a lot of room here."
"It's fine." A huff this time, as if she was put-upon by being squished in the bed. "You come by here, and all you want to do is cuddle. I've never heard the like."
"Ah?" Åsa paused, waiting, wondering what exactly she meant by that. Was that an offer? Ása's tone suggested she was joking. But maybe she wasn't. And maybe it was exactly what it sounded like. "Would you rather do something else?" She shifted a little, moving so she could nuzzle a bit more against Ása, trying to be inviting.
If Ása was implying what Åsa thought she was, well. It wasn't as if she'd never considered it.
"Maybe I would like to do something else." Long fingers in her hair, stroking, stroking. Mouth by her ear. Ása's breath was soft and warm. "How about that?"
"It's fine," Åsa said, and meant it. And as Ása's mouth pressed against hers, she didn't have to say anything else.
Ása's hands wandered, one arm moving to coil around her, the other sliding low, lower, over her shoulder and down her back. It was nice, Åsa thought, sighing against Ása's mouth and letting herself fall into the kiss. Her lips were roughened as if by wind, but Åsa didn't mind. She swept her tongue over them, slipped in when Ása gave her leave, seeking out sensitive spots, smiling a bit when Ása's hand settled on her lower back to pull her closer.
She clung to her, digging her fingers into the thick rough wool of Ása's sweater, and let herself enjoy it – that kiss, and the sensation of Ása against her. Even on the cramped bed, it felt good. In fact, the closeness made it even better.
Ása made a soft, encouraging sound, and Åsa took the hint. Opened her legs to let her slip her thigh between them. Let her press close against her.
She could feel that hand move, sliding lower. Slow – Ása was taking her time – but Åsa didn't protest, didn't object. Just made a soft, happy noise against her mouth to push her forward, to encourage her to go further. That gloved hand sliding down to her hip, sliding with fingers splayed across her ass, along her thigh. Not feather-light but searching, seeking, grasping as if to take in every shape and contour of her body.
Åsa broke the kiss with a gasp, slid her tongue over Ása's lips. Heard her make a soft sound, a pleased groan.
How far could she push this? How far could she go?
As far as she wanted to, if Ása's body language was any indication. The way her hand slid, stroked, grasped. The shape of her thigh pressing up between Åsa's legs. She rolled her hips, felt the friction, flushed scarlet because she was sure Ása could tell just how much she wanted it.
And there was no need to say anything at all.
In time, she felt gloved fingers slipping beneath her clothing, dipping underneath her sweater to touch and stroke and slide.
It was a strange sensation, the way it felt to have those gloved hands against her bare skin, the texture of the leather as those long fingers slid up and up. Long fingers that knew where they were going. Ása clearly knew what she was doing, and as she deftly unhooked clips and slid her hand beneath fabric again, Åsa gasped and arched and encouraged her to go on.
The sensation of gloved hands on her breasts felt – odd. And good. There was something firmer about the touch than it otherwise would have been, something appealing about the sensation of warm leather on such sensitive skin. As a thumb rolled over her nipple Åsa rocked, rolled her hips, pressed even harder against Ása's thigh. Sucked at her tongue and lips and did everything she could to make it clear just how much she was enjoying this.
But it wasn't enough. She wanted... she wanted... well. She wasn't even sure what.
She broke the kiss, teeth grazing hard over Ása's lower lip. "I know you have ideas," she said. "Show me."
She was sure it sounded more commanding in her head than the way that it actually came out.
Still, Ása paused, as if thinking it over.
"Right, then," Ása murmured. She drew away enough that Åsa could see her face, her steely eyes watching her as if searching. The hand slid out from under her clothing, moving to cup her face.
Gloved fingertips brushed against her mouth. Åsa parted her lips, flicked her tongue against the leather. Tasted it. But as much as she liked the texture, she decided, maybe it would be better if....
Gingerly, she took the tips of the glove between her teeth, and pulled it off. Ása took it and tossed it across the room, and in a second her hand found Åsa's face again, cupping her cheek with surprising gentleness as she dipped her head to kiss her mouth. And her now-bare hand trailed down, down, down over the front of her clothing, down to her waist, down to the band of her trousers.
Ása's fingers were rough-tipped. Strong. Sailor's hands. And as she felt her getting her clothes open, Åsa ached for that, quick though everything was. She ached for it as Ása shifted, pinning her down so she could have more room. And she arched as those fingers dipped beneath her clothing.
She breathed in sharp at the sensation of those strong fingers there, hand slipping unceremoniously into her underwear, fingers seeking out everything with purpose. They slid easily, and she flushed scarlet, knowing she was slick between the legs. Ása kissed at her throat, kept Åsa's mouth free, and Åsa wondered about that. Was it so that she could easily hear it if she had to say something about all this? Maybe. Or was it because she wanted to listen...? Also maybe. But right now, Åsa wasn't about to ask.
Those long fingers slid inside of her, then out, then in, moving easily, quickly finding a rhythm, pads of her fingers rolling over Åsa's clit. She lifted her hips to meet that touch, rolling, pressing.
It was overwhelming, the sensation of her hand, those fingers sliding into her. Those lips on her throat, tongue sweeping over her pulse. Åsa's breath came in quick, short gasps, mouth open, cheeks flushed as the sensation built and built in her. Too much, way too much – and whether it was from the strong press of the fingers circling her clit, or the graze of teeth at her throat, she came, one sharp gasp before she bit her lower lip to keep quiet.
Beside her, Ása let out a soft, satisfied hum, but didn't say anything. Her fingers kept circling Åsa's cunt slowly, slowly, until she'd ridden the whole thing out, until she was done.
Åsa stared up at the ceiling and tried not to blush too deeply. It was all to no avail. The heat on her cheeks betrayed her. But then again, she thought, did she really have to be unaffected? Maybe it was better to let Ása know how much she'd enjoyed that.
Turning her head, she caught sight of Ása watching her. There was a flicker in her eyes, something almost amused. A raised eyebrow as if asking, "Well?"
Åsa didn't give her a moment to ask the question. Words didn't come to her; so, she decided, it would be better not to both with words at all.
She caught her mouth, kissed her hard. Felt more than heard her gasp. Then, gathering all her nerves, she moved to press her down, flip her onto her back.
It wasn't exactly a graceful move. Had the bed been larger, had she more room, it would surely have been as smooth and elegant as the idea seemed in Åsa's head. As it was, there was a moment of tight fumbling, and Ása cursing against her mouth, until Åsa managed to wedge her onto the mattress.
She broke the kiss for a moment, and that was when she heard the soft laugh – Ása looked up at her, braced on her elbows, eyes bright with amusement.
"Just what are you planning?"
"You'll see." Åsa grinned, and kissed her again, pushing her down.
For a moment, her hands cradled Ása's face, cupped her head tenderly as she kissed her once more, stroked those slightly-parted lips with her tongue. Then she let her hands slide low, downward, fingertips dipping toward her trousers.
She fumbled a bit at first. The fastenings on Ása's clothing were different from what Åsa was accustomed to. As she worked to get her trousers open she couldn't help but feel that it was a reminder that she wasn't just a stranger in a strange land, but someone who had stepped through time, too, in a most unnatural way.
Strange, she thought, that it would be this, and not any of the other things that she'd seen or discovered or overheard, that would make such an awareness creep down her spine.
Her hands stilled without her realizing it.
But it was Ása who broke the kiss, letting out a soft huff against her cheek. "Are you going to fuck me or what?" Frustrated though she was, there was a hint to that 'or what' that told of acceptance – that it was fine if the answer was indeed 'no', if she had second thoughts.
"Shhh. No, it's nothing like that." Åsa dropped her head, grazing teeth to Ása's throat.
"Then what?"
"...I was having trouble with your pants." Well. Might as well be honest about it. The laugh she got for that was worth it, Ása's throat jumping against her lips.
"Is that all?" Hands slipped down, brushing against her own, gently squeezing them before making quick work of the fastenings. "There."
Well. No going back now. A thrill rushed through Åsa as she gripped the clothing and pulled it down, sliding it from those long legs. Tossed it over the side of the bed.
It was the work of a second to ease her thighs apart, to situate herself comfortably between them. Then, with one more glance up toward Ása's face, Åsa dipped her head.
How hard could it be?
Not very, as it turned out. All she had to do was listen, and let her mouth do the work. Ása was vocal, cursing up a storm as Åsa went at it, stroking with lips and tongue.
Åsa took in the sounds she made. The way she groaned as she dipped her tongue low, swept it into her. The way she said, "Oh fuck – keep doing that," as she pressed her lips to her clit and sucked.
Much obliged.
She could feel Ása's thighs around her, trembling slightly. Coiling her arm around one of them, Åsa kept them apart, pressed them wider. Steadied herself as she moved to dip her other hand low and slide a finger inside of her, dipping into that hot, wet heat.
She kept going with her mouth, and the sound she heard made her grin against Ása's cunt.
It wasn't long after that. Which was a good thing, Åsa decided. Though she wasn't about to complain about the desperate fingers gripping her hair – not that she could, with her mouth occupied like that – it was a bit too tight for her liking.
She slid her fingers out, and in, and swept her tongue over her. Heard her groan – and felt her clenching around her fingers.
Those hands eased their grip on her, and Åsa lifted her head.
Immediately, Ása grabbed her. Swept her up and forward. Pulled her on top of her, and kissed her hard, muffling the startled sound Åsa made.
Åsa gasped for breath when they finally broke the kiss.
"And here I was, thinking you were nervous," Ása said, breathless, her eyes bright.
Perhaps it had turned out all right, after all.
The distance slices like a knife.
Too much time and space between us.
Imagine what we could have.
Imagine what we could have had
Somehow, she never found herself interested in anyone else.
It wasn't that opportunities didn't come up. They did. But Åsa found that, when she gave it thought, she was content with her life – and the fleeting moments, late at night, when she could slice time thinly.
Ása seemed completely unbothered by it all.
"You're here when you're here," she had said once, coiling a strand of Åsa's hair around her finger when they rested together in her cramped flat. "That's all it is. Doesn't bother me."
"It doesn't?"
"No." And a kiss to her cheek, her mouth. "Better this way. We won't get bored of each other."
That was how it went. They carried on with their lives; Åsa inherited her family's business, and Ása became a captain. And at times – in the night, in the dark, in the quiet, when she could – Åsa cut through her dreams, and joined her.
It was as simple as that.
The air was thick with rain.
Åsa looked up at the sky, then pulled the hood of her rain slicker more securely over her head, and set to loading the boat.
In the water down below, she could hear the seal splashing.
It had been following her for months now, whispering at the corner of her mind. She'd met it in a dream, and if she hadn't already been accustomed to uncanny things, she might think she was going mad.
Better to make a friend of it. Especially when that friend was the sort to tell you things that you needed to know.
"Be patient, now," she called down past the dock into the water. "We'll have to wait for a while. They're not here yet."
The splashing stopped.
Åsa sighed.
The news had been worrying of late. Reports from abroad – a disease spreading. Ordinarily, she paid it no mind, no fuss. The news was and always would be troubling. Always a crisis somewhere.
But then Iceland closed its ports.
That was when she started to pay attention.
She remembered the stories Ása had told her, when the two of them stayed curled up together in the cabin of her ship, long fingers stroking her hair.
"They said that there was news coming from far away, some place I don't know. Whatever it was, it sounded more serious than usual. The government got antsy and shut down the whole lot, nobody coming in or out." Ása dipped her head, brushing a kiss against Åsa's temple. "That's why things turned out over here the way they did. Why it isn't as run down as everything else. We made sure we were safe."
"...What about Finland?"
"Finland's a backwater." A snort. "Surprised they hung on as long as they did."
"Hey, now –"
"Made of tough stuff, I guess." Another kiss. "I went to one've their main ports once. Pori. Rough place. The rest isn't any better from what I've heard. But life... finds a way, I guess."
"I guess." She'd closed her eyes, let herself melt under her hands. "Could you tell me more? About what you know of the early years."
And she had.
Åsa looked out across the lake. There was a small island, she knew, with a cabin on it. Her family had built it ages ago, and she still made sure it was kept neat and in good repair. There was no way to get there unless you knew the way and had a boat.
"Islands," Ása had said. "That's the ticket. Isolate yourself as much as you can, and you'll make it through anything."
The previous night, Åsa had gone to her. Sliced the air, stepped through her dreams. Found herself once again in the captain's cabin on Ása's boat. She could feel the ship around her, heavy in the water. Somehow without seeing, she knew the seal was there, swimming beneath them.
Ása looked up from her knitting, then set it aside.
"This is the second time this week," she said. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, of course."
Åsa sank down onto the edge of her bunk. "I'm worried," she said, after dipping her head to steal a kiss. "I think... our worlds are coming together. Somehow."
"Oh?"
"Iceland closed its ports this afternoon."
"Hmm." Not one word. Ása pulled her close instead of speaking; tugged her into her arms. Without any objection, Åsa went down to rest against her. Closed her eyes and pressed her face into her coat.
She didn't want to think about it. And speaking those words had been more than enough. But there it was.
Long fingers patted her hair, sweeping her fringe out of her face. "Well," Ása said after a moment. "Here is how I see it. If you prepare, and it's nothing, then there's no loss, except you might look a bit foolish. And if it isn't nothing, you'll survive. Now, listen here...."
She told her what to do, and Åsa listened.
Now, all that was left was to put it into action.
Åsa turned away from the lake, memories of Ása's advice ringing through her mind. She looked toward the road for the tenth time that morning.
There was a vehicle coming up the way, and another behind it.
She breathed a sigh of relief. So, her family had decided to humour her after all, then.
In the dripping rain, she went to meet them.
Fandom: A Redtail's Dream & Stand Still Stay Silent
Characters/Pairing: Åsa Skärsholm/Ása Harðardóttir
Rating: 18+
Length: 4.4k
Summary: Ása said that her ability to visit was magic. Maybe it was.
Other: Written for Laufey for the Fandom Trumps Hate charity auction. Thanks for bidding on me!
Prompt for this was: Åsa/Ása, aRTD x SSSS crossover, with the two of them living in their own timelines/worlds but still meeting in some way, and taking place during a broad span of time during their lives.
Like time sliced thinly
Slice the world like a fish's belly
with a knife found in
a second-hand shop
sharp as frost
its gleaming blade
taking you to another world
to find your everything
A store in town. That was where she had found it. Priced down low because of nicks to the handle, a split in the bone that couldn't be repaired.
All hers.
A bit fancy for a fish knife, maybe. But that was fine by her.
She dreamed. And in her dreams, Åsa could do amazing things.
In her mind, Åsa hummed as she walked along the shore, forest to one side of her and water on the other. Nothing to worry about, and nobody else around her. This was her special spot, and nobody in the world knew about it.
Her knife was magical. Åsa knew that. In her guts, she knew it.
In her pockets, she had trinkets. A shiny stone. A flower wrapped in wax paper. Needle and thread folded together with a bit of scrap fabric.
She had her knife with her, too.
And she slipped it out, and sliced the air, and stepped forward.
She was there. That girl with the stormy eyes. She sat on a bench with a small fabric bag at her side and a strand of yarn slipping out of it to the needles in her hands, a half-finished mitten on them.
Ása didn't even look up.
"You again," she said, as if she had been expecting Åsa all along. And maybe she had.
"Me again." Åsa plunked herself down near her, feet swinging.
"I don't know where the hell you come and go from," Ása muttered. "I blink and you're here; then I blink again and you're gone."
Åsa laughed. "Like magic?"
Ása snorted, but said nothing.
Grey sky, thin sunlight shining through. Hardly any trees, and wasn't that odd. Strange place with strange people. Mountains rising in the distance. Exhausted expressions, and hunger on pinched faces. It was a look she'd seen before.
But she didn't ask, and Ása never said.
These were not her times, she knew. This wasn't her world or her home. But they were hungry times, and one didn't ask about these things.
Maybe she'd find out more eventually. But it didn't matter, anyway.
What mattered was that Ása was there.
Cut myself into your life
the space and time between us
growing back like brambles by day
I'll carve myself a place to exist
if you can't.
They knew better than to ask how or why.
Some things weren't for either of them to know, and the matter of this, as far as they were both concerned – well, that was one of those things.
Ása called it magic.
Maybe it was.
She worked this magic in her dreams. Kept the knife close by at night. And when her head hit the pillow, Åsa opened her eyes, and opened her eyes again.
In the morning, after spending all evening roaming through Iceland with Ása, she would wake feeling as if she had walked to the end of the earth.
Maybe she had.
And this was why she could only see her occasionally.
"I still don't believe it," Ása had told her, cupping her face as if by doing that she could prove that it was all a hoax. "It doesn't make a lick of sense that you can come here like this. You feel as real as anything."
"I know," Åsa said, and closed her eyes. She took a second to enjoy the way it felt, the sensation of Ása's roughened fingertips on her cheeks. "But it is what it is, right?"
There was a huff. But nothing else. Ása couldn't argue with that. Or was she accustomed to taking things as they came, because there was no other option? She had said, once, that adapting to the unexpected was something everyone had to do if they wanted to exist. Even here, the safest place in the world.
Like so many things, it was best not to overthink this.
The entire world, Ása's world, was ragged and worn. Everything had a shabby, tattered look. There was something familiar about the way it felt, this tired and hungry place, but other aspects of it didn't look like anything Åsa had ever seen.
The barriers along the shoreline. The way people avoided going down by the water, unless they absolutely had to go near it; those ones who were desperate enough that they'd take even the worst work. The whispering threat of disease.
Ása had explained it once, many years earlier. Or tried to.
"Like the black plague? Or, um, the Spanish flu?" Åsa had asked, trying to wrap her head around it.
"Like the what?"
As much as they both tried to explain what the other meant, it was beyond the abilities of both of them.
At the very least, in the shabby clothes she tended to favour, Åsa didn't stick out too much. With her friend's advice, she could pass for someone who belonged there, and that suited them both fine.
I would cross the ocean for you.
I would cross time for you.
If only I could.
If only I could.
Ása spoke of boats, and of ships, and of sea voyages.
"It's dangerous work," she said. "But I could do with some adventure. Get myself off this rock and see a thing or two."
They were walking side by side, hands in their pockets, heads ducked against the drizzle as they made their way to Ása's small flat. Barely larger than a shoebox, but clean. As if a prediction. As if training herself for a ship's cramped quarters.
"You should sail by Finland," Åsa suggested. "Then you can tell me what it's like there, now."
Ása snorted. "You still don't understand, do you? That place isn't fit for anybody. Too dangerous. I'm surprised they found anybody alive there at all."
Åsa quieted for a moment, thinking about this.
The danger was beyond her imagination. Even with the uncanny air to everything – including the bizarre fact of her being where she was, walking in her sleep to somewhere else – there was one thing she could be sure of.
"I'm not surprised about that," she said. "That they found people there."
If there was one thing that wasn't strange at all, it was that Finland had survived.
Ása's flat was small and cramped. She didn't seem to mind it. The tiny spaces, the hidden storage compartments, a place for everything and everything in its place. If there wasn't a place for it then, as far as Ása was concerned, it didn't need to be there.
They shucked off their outer layers, then sank down onto the bed together.
It had been a while since they had seen each other. Any amount of time apart was too long, in Åsa's opinion, not that they could really do anything about that. But as of late it had been really... really.... She hadn't had time. Neither of them had time, not when Ása was working toward earning the certifications required to apply for a position as captain of a ship. Not when the travel through worlds and time left Åsa feeling so exhausted that any movement made her feel as if she might collapse.
Things had been easier when she was younger. When she had fewer worries and tasks and responsibilities. Now, when she had to help manage her family's fish-packing plant – well. it was a bit different, wasn't it.
But now, they were together. For now. For a while. For a little bit.
She closed her eyes and felt Ása's fingers sliding through her hair. It felt good. A little odd – she hadn't bothered to take off her gloves – but good. If only she could keep this feeling and take it with her. Maybe this was all an elaborate dream, but it didn't matter.
It was hard for her to remember when they had first drawn together like this. The relationship had grown up around them, unexpected. It had been so gradual, so easy. Though at first she had been a little surprised that she felt like this, from the first press of Ása's lips on her mouth, Åsa knew that the fussy little details didn't matter.
What mattered was that they felt the same way about each other.
She heard an irritated sigh.
Åsa opened her eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"My arm's falling asleep."
"Oh! Um. I see. Well..." She tried to shift a bit, moving so that she wasn't quite on top of any stray body parts. There was precious little room on the narrow bed, but somehow they'd managed to cram themselves on it together anyway, and Åsa wasn't about to give up on that just yet.
"Sorry about that," she murmured, nuzzling against Ása's neck, pressing her nose against a bit of exposed skin. "Not a lot of room here."
"It's fine." A huff this time, as if she was put-upon by being squished in the bed. "You come by here, and all you want to do is cuddle. I've never heard the like."
"Ah?" Åsa paused, waiting, wondering what exactly she meant by that. Was that an offer? Ása's tone suggested she was joking. But maybe she wasn't. And maybe it was exactly what it sounded like. "Would you rather do something else?" She shifted a little, moving so she could nuzzle a bit more against Ása, trying to be inviting.
If Ása was implying what Åsa thought she was, well. It wasn't as if she'd never considered it.
"Maybe I would like to do something else." Long fingers in her hair, stroking, stroking. Mouth by her ear. Ása's breath was soft and warm. "How about that?"
"It's fine," Åsa said, and meant it. And as Ása's mouth pressed against hers, she didn't have to say anything else.
Ása's hands wandered, one arm moving to coil around her, the other sliding low, lower, over her shoulder and down her back. It was nice, Åsa thought, sighing against Ása's mouth and letting herself fall into the kiss. Her lips were roughened as if by wind, but Åsa didn't mind. She swept her tongue over them, slipped in when Ása gave her leave, seeking out sensitive spots, smiling a bit when Ása's hand settled on her lower back to pull her closer.
She clung to her, digging her fingers into the thick rough wool of Ása's sweater, and let herself enjoy it – that kiss, and the sensation of Ása against her. Even on the cramped bed, it felt good. In fact, the closeness made it even better.
Ása made a soft, encouraging sound, and Åsa took the hint. Opened her legs to let her slip her thigh between them. Let her press close against her.
She could feel that hand move, sliding lower. Slow – Ása was taking her time – but Åsa didn't protest, didn't object. Just made a soft, happy noise against her mouth to push her forward, to encourage her to go further. That gloved hand sliding down to her hip, sliding with fingers splayed across her ass, along her thigh. Not feather-light but searching, seeking, grasping as if to take in every shape and contour of her body.
Åsa broke the kiss with a gasp, slid her tongue over Ása's lips. Heard her make a soft sound, a pleased groan.
How far could she push this? How far could she go?
As far as she wanted to, if Ása's body language was any indication. The way her hand slid, stroked, grasped. The shape of her thigh pressing up between Åsa's legs. She rolled her hips, felt the friction, flushed scarlet because she was sure Ása could tell just how much she wanted it.
And there was no need to say anything at all.
In time, she felt gloved fingers slipping beneath her clothing, dipping underneath her sweater to touch and stroke and slide.
It was a strange sensation, the way it felt to have those gloved hands against her bare skin, the texture of the leather as those long fingers slid up and up. Long fingers that knew where they were going. Ása clearly knew what she was doing, and as she deftly unhooked clips and slid her hand beneath fabric again, Åsa gasped and arched and encouraged her to go on.
The sensation of gloved hands on her breasts felt – odd. And good. There was something firmer about the touch than it otherwise would have been, something appealing about the sensation of warm leather on such sensitive skin. As a thumb rolled over her nipple Åsa rocked, rolled her hips, pressed even harder against Ása's thigh. Sucked at her tongue and lips and did everything she could to make it clear just how much she was enjoying this.
But it wasn't enough. She wanted... she wanted... well. She wasn't even sure what.
She broke the kiss, teeth grazing hard over Ása's lower lip. "I know you have ideas," she said. "Show me."
She was sure it sounded more commanding in her head than the way that it actually came out.
Still, Ása paused, as if thinking it over.
"Right, then," Ása murmured. She drew away enough that Åsa could see her face, her steely eyes watching her as if searching. The hand slid out from under her clothing, moving to cup her face.
Gloved fingertips brushed against her mouth. Åsa parted her lips, flicked her tongue against the leather. Tasted it. But as much as she liked the texture, she decided, maybe it would be better if....
Gingerly, she took the tips of the glove between her teeth, and pulled it off. Ása took it and tossed it across the room, and in a second her hand found Åsa's face again, cupping her cheek with surprising gentleness as she dipped her head to kiss her mouth. And her now-bare hand trailed down, down, down over the front of her clothing, down to her waist, down to the band of her trousers.
Ása's fingers were rough-tipped. Strong. Sailor's hands. And as she felt her getting her clothes open, Åsa ached for that, quick though everything was. She ached for it as Ása shifted, pinning her down so she could have more room. And she arched as those fingers dipped beneath her clothing.
She breathed in sharp at the sensation of those strong fingers there, hand slipping unceremoniously into her underwear, fingers seeking out everything with purpose. They slid easily, and she flushed scarlet, knowing she was slick between the legs. Ása kissed at her throat, kept Åsa's mouth free, and Åsa wondered about that. Was it so that she could easily hear it if she had to say something about all this? Maybe. Or was it because she wanted to listen...? Also maybe. But right now, Åsa wasn't about to ask.
Those long fingers slid inside of her, then out, then in, moving easily, quickly finding a rhythm, pads of her fingers rolling over Åsa's clit. She lifted her hips to meet that touch, rolling, pressing.
It was overwhelming, the sensation of her hand, those fingers sliding into her. Those lips on her throat, tongue sweeping over her pulse. Åsa's breath came in quick, short gasps, mouth open, cheeks flushed as the sensation built and built in her. Too much, way too much – and whether it was from the strong press of the fingers circling her clit, or the graze of teeth at her throat, she came, one sharp gasp before she bit her lower lip to keep quiet.
Beside her, Ása let out a soft, satisfied hum, but didn't say anything. Her fingers kept circling Åsa's cunt slowly, slowly, until she'd ridden the whole thing out, until she was done.
Åsa stared up at the ceiling and tried not to blush too deeply. It was all to no avail. The heat on her cheeks betrayed her. But then again, she thought, did she really have to be unaffected? Maybe it was better to let Ása know how much she'd enjoyed that.
Turning her head, she caught sight of Ása watching her. There was a flicker in her eyes, something almost amused. A raised eyebrow as if asking, "Well?"
Åsa didn't give her a moment to ask the question. Words didn't come to her; so, she decided, it would be better not to both with words at all.
She caught her mouth, kissed her hard. Felt more than heard her gasp. Then, gathering all her nerves, she moved to press her down, flip her onto her back.
It wasn't exactly a graceful move. Had the bed been larger, had she more room, it would surely have been as smooth and elegant as the idea seemed in Åsa's head. As it was, there was a moment of tight fumbling, and Ása cursing against her mouth, until Åsa managed to wedge her onto the mattress.
She broke the kiss for a moment, and that was when she heard the soft laugh – Ása looked up at her, braced on her elbows, eyes bright with amusement.
"Just what are you planning?"
"You'll see." Åsa grinned, and kissed her again, pushing her down.
For a moment, her hands cradled Ása's face, cupped her head tenderly as she kissed her once more, stroked those slightly-parted lips with her tongue. Then she let her hands slide low, downward, fingertips dipping toward her trousers.
She fumbled a bit at first. The fastenings on Ása's clothing were different from what Åsa was accustomed to. As she worked to get her trousers open she couldn't help but feel that it was a reminder that she wasn't just a stranger in a strange land, but someone who had stepped through time, too, in a most unnatural way.
Strange, she thought, that it would be this, and not any of the other things that she'd seen or discovered or overheard, that would make such an awareness creep down her spine.
Her hands stilled without her realizing it.
But it was Ása who broke the kiss, letting out a soft huff against her cheek. "Are you going to fuck me or what?" Frustrated though she was, there was a hint to that 'or what' that told of acceptance – that it was fine if the answer was indeed 'no', if she had second thoughts.
"Shhh. No, it's nothing like that." Åsa dropped her head, grazing teeth to Ása's throat.
"Then what?"
"...I was having trouble with your pants." Well. Might as well be honest about it. The laugh she got for that was worth it, Ása's throat jumping against her lips.
"Is that all?" Hands slipped down, brushing against her own, gently squeezing them before making quick work of the fastenings. "There."
Well. No going back now. A thrill rushed through Åsa as she gripped the clothing and pulled it down, sliding it from those long legs. Tossed it over the side of the bed.
It was the work of a second to ease her thighs apart, to situate herself comfortably between them. Then, with one more glance up toward Ása's face, Åsa dipped her head.
How hard could it be?
Not very, as it turned out. All she had to do was listen, and let her mouth do the work. Ása was vocal, cursing up a storm as Åsa went at it, stroking with lips and tongue.
Åsa took in the sounds she made. The way she groaned as she dipped her tongue low, swept it into her. The way she said, "Oh fuck – keep doing that," as she pressed her lips to her clit and sucked.
Much obliged.
She could feel Ása's thighs around her, trembling slightly. Coiling her arm around one of them, Åsa kept them apart, pressed them wider. Steadied herself as she moved to dip her other hand low and slide a finger inside of her, dipping into that hot, wet heat.
She kept going with her mouth, and the sound she heard made her grin against Ása's cunt.
It wasn't long after that. Which was a good thing, Åsa decided. Though she wasn't about to complain about the desperate fingers gripping her hair – not that she could, with her mouth occupied like that – it was a bit too tight for her liking.
She slid her fingers out, and in, and swept her tongue over her. Heard her groan – and felt her clenching around her fingers.
Those hands eased their grip on her, and Åsa lifted her head.
Immediately, Ása grabbed her. Swept her up and forward. Pulled her on top of her, and kissed her hard, muffling the startled sound Åsa made.
Åsa gasped for breath when they finally broke the kiss.
"And here I was, thinking you were nervous," Ása said, breathless, her eyes bright.
Perhaps it had turned out all right, after all.
The distance slices like a knife.
Too much time and space between us.
Imagine what we could have.
Imagine what we could have had
Somehow, she never found herself interested in anyone else.
It wasn't that opportunities didn't come up. They did. But Åsa found that, when she gave it thought, she was content with her life – and the fleeting moments, late at night, when she could slice time thinly.
Ása seemed completely unbothered by it all.
"You're here when you're here," she had said once, coiling a strand of Åsa's hair around her finger when they rested together in her cramped flat. "That's all it is. Doesn't bother me."
"It doesn't?"
"No." And a kiss to her cheek, her mouth. "Better this way. We won't get bored of each other."
That was how it went. They carried on with their lives; Åsa inherited her family's business, and Ása became a captain. And at times – in the night, in the dark, in the quiet, when she could – Åsa cut through her dreams, and joined her.
It was as simple as that.
The air was thick with rain.
Åsa looked up at the sky, then pulled the hood of her rain slicker more securely over her head, and set to loading the boat.
In the water down below, she could hear the seal splashing.
It had been following her for months now, whispering at the corner of her mind. She'd met it in a dream, and if she hadn't already been accustomed to uncanny things, she might think she was going mad.
Better to make a friend of it. Especially when that friend was the sort to tell you things that you needed to know.
"Be patient, now," she called down past the dock into the water. "We'll have to wait for a while. They're not here yet."
The splashing stopped.
Åsa sighed.
The news had been worrying of late. Reports from abroad – a disease spreading. Ordinarily, she paid it no mind, no fuss. The news was and always would be troubling. Always a crisis somewhere.
But then Iceland closed its ports.
That was when she started to pay attention.
She remembered the stories Ása had told her, when the two of them stayed curled up together in the cabin of her ship, long fingers stroking her hair.
"They said that there was news coming from far away, some place I don't know. Whatever it was, it sounded more serious than usual. The government got antsy and shut down the whole lot, nobody coming in or out." Ása dipped her head, brushing a kiss against Åsa's temple. "That's why things turned out over here the way they did. Why it isn't as run down as everything else. We made sure we were safe."
"...What about Finland?"
"Finland's a backwater." A snort. "Surprised they hung on as long as they did."
"Hey, now –"
"Made of tough stuff, I guess." Another kiss. "I went to one've their main ports once. Pori. Rough place. The rest isn't any better from what I've heard. But life... finds a way, I guess."
"I guess." She'd closed her eyes, let herself melt under her hands. "Could you tell me more? About what you know of the early years."
And she had.
Åsa looked out across the lake. There was a small island, she knew, with a cabin on it. Her family had built it ages ago, and she still made sure it was kept neat and in good repair. There was no way to get there unless you knew the way and had a boat.
"Islands," Ása had said. "That's the ticket. Isolate yourself as much as you can, and you'll make it through anything."
The previous night, Åsa had gone to her. Sliced the air, stepped through her dreams. Found herself once again in the captain's cabin on Ása's boat. She could feel the ship around her, heavy in the water. Somehow without seeing, she knew the seal was there, swimming beneath them.
Ása looked up from her knitting, then set it aside.
"This is the second time this week," she said. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, of course."
Åsa sank down onto the edge of her bunk. "I'm worried," she said, after dipping her head to steal a kiss. "I think... our worlds are coming together. Somehow."
"Oh?"
"Iceland closed its ports this afternoon."
"Hmm." Not one word. Ása pulled her close instead of speaking; tugged her into her arms. Without any objection, Åsa went down to rest against her. Closed her eyes and pressed her face into her coat.
She didn't want to think about it. And speaking those words had been more than enough. But there it was.
Long fingers patted her hair, sweeping her fringe out of her face. "Well," Ása said after a moment. "Here is how I see it. If you prepare, and it's nothing, then there's no loss, except you might look a bit foolish. And if it isn't nothing, you'll survive. Now, listen here...."
She told her what to do, and Åsa listened.
Now, all that was left was to put it into action.
Åsa turned away from the lake, memories of Ása's advice ringing through her mind. She looked toward the road for the tenth time that morning.
There was a vehicle coming up the way, and another behind it.
She breathed a sigh of relief. So, her family had decided to humour her after all, then.
In the dripping rain, she went to meet them.