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Cold.
Always cold, for as long as she could remember.
She was from Cyberia, of course her childhood was filled with bundling in heavy coats on the very few occasions where Nastya got to leave the palace.
And of course, upon escaping from the palace, bleeding on the snow, she was perhaps the coldest she had ever been. She hadn't had time to grab a coat or even a blanket in her rush to leave the chaos. Carmilla had found Nastya curled in on herself in the snow, trying desperately to keep her blood in her chest.
The only warmth she felt that day came from Carmilla's hand.
From that day on, she was cold more often than not. See, without her real blood in her veins, there was no real way for warmth to be carried through her body.
That was why Nastya spent so much time in the engine room.
Aurora cared so deeply for Nastya, and it was almost enough to warm her up. But her beloved kept the engine room warm, so that she never had to worry that her fingers would become numb while working. It also kept the others out, as they typically found the heat unbearable, so it was certainly an added bonus.
So when she noticed that there was less and less heat radiating from her love, she knew what it meant.
She couldn't hide that pang of sadness that hit when she first felt the sensation of her fingers going numb as she adjusted paneling. She didn't say anything in response to the faint hum of concern, a hum that would normally solicit an “I'm fine, Rora,” at the very least.
It wasn’t Aurora’s fault that she was changing. She wasn’t indestructible, after all. She needed repairs, parts needed replacing. Nastya just wished that it hadn’t changed her love beyond recognition.
So she put on her coat, carefully tethered herself to the ship, and went out into the vast emptiness of space with a crowbar in hand. The cold was unlike anything she felt before, and she quickly regretted not putting on proper gloves. She found the last part of her Aurora, and removed it as carefully as her frigid hands allowed. When it was finally in her hands, she would have sworn that the piece of metal gave her some of the warmth she had so desperately missed.
She went back to her room, sitting on her bed. Her fingers gently traced her finger on the metal, the numbers and logo bringing her that wonderful familiarity. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she held the metal close.
She curled on her bed and cried, unable to find comfort in the ship she was on. The comfort she was so used to feeling on nights where she would cry herself to sleep.
Nastya didn’t know how long it took for her to fall asleep, nor did she know how long she slept, but she woke up with the piece of Aurora - of her Aurora - still clutched in her hands. She sat up and wiped her eyes. She knew what she had to do. She just had to be quick about it.
She stood and roamed the all-too familiar halls, making sure to go unnoticed.
She had finally reached the airlocks and was trying to gain access when she felt a sharp pain in her arm. She swore in Sprussian as she saw her blood splatter across the wall and floor, and dropped the plate in her panic.
The conversation she had with Jonny was a blur of yells and recrimination and hurt. The only warmth she felt was from the tears rolling down her cheeks. All that was on her mind was leaving. She remembered wrapping herself more and more in her coat, feeling the cold more and more as she longed to release herself into space. To be free. To free her love.
Nastya grabbed back the metal, holding it as close as she could with her injured arm. She was careful to not get any blood on it.
She turned away from Jonny, and closed the airlock before she could hear what he had to say next.
She felt that rush of cold, and curled in on herself. She kissed the piece of metal clutched in her hands, more tears flowing freely now that she was out of sight.
Now floating in the cosmos, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Goodbye, my love,” she whispered, the last words she would ever speak to her. She gave the piece of metal the gentlest of pushes, and she couldn’t even bring herself to look as it floated away.
***
She thought she would have been used to the cold by now. There was no way for her to know how long she had been floating in space, all alone, in and out of consciousness. She felt the frost covering her body.
All she knew was that she missed the warmth of Aurora. She missed the warmth of her crew, her family.
But there was no warmth. There was just the endless cold of space, far from stars, planets, moons, and anyone who could give her that warmth that she so desperately craved for as long as she could remember.
It was just the cold.