( not distinctly true — for one, alina would liken her brain to a soupy broth, at the moment, overheated from fever. for another, cracking open her skull runs the risk of having it all pour out into the basin of his palms, alina-shaped chunks flavored with — something more, something other. it's never been just her, alone in her head; even now, she can sense the hum of the amplifiers, a constant static she barely notices anymore. the seawhip coiled defensively around her brainstem, filled with righteous anger. morozova's stag looms watchfully, a protective guardian in the sacred grove of her thoguhts.

not for the first time, she finds herself grateful she's a pliant puddle of limbs under paul's lean body. less of a risk their minds clash rather than meld like a runny yolk. she squirms and stretches up into him, spurts of puffy exhales at his fingers teasing the ticklish skin of her belly, dangling in that dreamy void between sleepiness and consciousness. lazily, her toes dangle and draw down the backs of his legs, a softspun hum in her throat. a finger trails down the bridge of his nose, tapping freckles in her mental count. one, two, three, before she loses focus and has to start the process again. )

I don't mind you in my gaps. ( pun intentional, judging from the bleary, tranquil smile on her face. it's nice thought, isn't it? to be filled in all places, mind and body and soul. she lifts a hand, carding it through his curls, nails raking against his cat, like scratching a beloved cat under its chin. ) But I should warn you it won't only be me. I don't know how ... different my mind might feel, to you, but my power knows you're no threat. I won't let it harm you.