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lovelyfoolish · 4 months

Text

dans mes yeux ça se voit

nat x f!detective (shivani gupta) / 1.4K / M

⇢ summary: natalie sewell fears nothing.

⇢ notes: happy holidays, @sunshineandviolets! i'm your match for @wayhavensecretsanta ♡ all of your detectives are beautifully constructed and would be a pleasure to write about, but i knew i wanted to write about shivani after i read about her love of bugs (adding to my insects and wayhaven canon? you love to see it) and desire for a fairytale romance. (and as a part-time woman in stem, i couldn't resist sneaking in some of my own interests with all the bug facts.)

i hope it's very cozy where you are and that you have a lovely holiday season and get to go on a nature walk with a pretty girl someday soon ♡

🐞 ‎

set the mood

🦋 ‎

In her memories, the sea glitters like a diamond, waves that wear white foam shrouds catching the light as they dance, rolling towards an unseen shore. She could never see the bottom. She never wanted to.

For a moment, Nat tastes salt instead of the heady, smokey flavour of the Lapsang Souchong she drinks while Shivani eats her breakfast in the back of her throat.

Then, iron.

If she still thinks of the sea as a precious gem, even after all this time, even though she knows what it can do, then the lake that stretches out before them, placid and unmoving, so still it’s unnerving, must be glass, crawling towards the horizon. The treeline frames its edges, the mountains cast shadows over it, it reflects the grey of the winter morning sky like a mirror —

In this light, the lake is a gleaming pearl at the centre of an oyster dulled by the dark of the ocean.

They’ve come here before. A few times. She can map it in her mind. In a few minutes, they’ll pass a makeshift dock that Shivani once told her was crowded with reckless swimmers in the summer. There’s a fallen pine to the north, half-submerged and rising from the water like the rib of something ancient, right at the shore’s edge. Ribbons of smoke curl from the chimneys of the houses in the distance, mist rising off the surface of the water. It’s quiet, the only sound their footsteps on the path, and she is restless in a way that feels both unfamiliar and innate, swallowing down a feeling she has no name for.

Not — déjà vu, exactly. Not melancholy. Something else. Something implacable, that feels like something trembling inside her chest, straining against her skin, what a chrysalis on the verge of metamorphosis must feel like.

As she walks, her long strides shortened to match her girlfriend’s, Nat’s fingers brush against Shivani’s. They touch only momentarily, but it makes her stand straighter, exhaling softly. How many times did Shivani do this alone before she met her? How many times had she walked alone by the edge of the water before she met Shivani?

“Nat.”

She turns towards the sound of her name, finding Shivani staring up at her, the sky reflected in her expression, the gold ring in her nose glinting. It makes Nat smile reflexively, her lips unfurling like a bow being untied as she reaches for her hand. Her fingers wrap around her wrist, a bracelet of adoration, before she hooks their smallest fingers together as though making a promise, stroking her palm with her thumb. She wants to touch her more, in a way that is rapidly becoming more impractical the further they get down the path, deeper into the trees.

Shivani’s skin, with its down of dark hair, is soft as velvet — it is treacherous to liken her human (so human, entirely human, much too human — and yet, she has chosen her) girlfriend to something inhuman, but with her dark eyes opened wide and that constant, unchanging air of caution, she thinks first of a doe.

“Yes,” Nat says in answer, head tilted, fixated on her girlfriend, that smile she only smiles for Shivani on her lips again.

“It’s a widow skimmer,” she says, the pitch of her voice betraying her excitement, and Nat follows the point of her gaze — a dragonfly is flitting down by the water, so fast she would have missed it if Shivani hadn’t spoken. “Libellula luctuosa. Male. You can tell by the white band on its midwings and its blue body. Can you see it? If it was a female it would have yellow stripes on its body instead of blue, and there wouldn’t be any white patches between its nodus and stigma, only black or brown.”

“It’s beautiful,” Nat says, “Should we get closer?”

Shivani shakes her head, laughing softly. “Nat, it’s hunting.”

She arches her brow, and Shivani’s eyes light up.

“Dragonflies are one of the most dangerous predators on Earth,” she continues, leaning closer to Nat as she watches the insect, side of her head against Nat’s bicep, making her heart flutter, not unlike the beat of the widow skimmer’s wings. Nat is flushing. She can feel her cheeks getting warmer. “If you’re their prey. They can catch other insects in midair and not have to land before consuming them. They feed while they fly. There’s been research that suggests they’re almost like humans — they can focus their attention like humans can, and that allows them to stalk their prey more accurately. Their efficiency is almost unparalleled. They’re remarkable.”

Prey. Such a simple, uninteresting word, over in a syllable, but she finds it repulsive nonetheless, spitting it out in her summations and reports.

“It was funny, really, there were reports of places where frogs were experiencing extreme rates of missing or extra limbs, and there was no environmental factor that they could pinpoint, like improper chemical disposal. It turned out that dragonflies were preying on the frogs as tadpoles. Their bodies would sometimes grow an extra limb in response to losing one before they were grown. And then as frogs, they would get their vengeance by preying on the dragonflies. It’s cyclical.”

Vampires prey on humans.

Someone is holding her hand tightly, squeezing it gently. They’ve stopped walking.

“You know — I read something about dragonflies recently that made me think of you, Nat.”

When they met, it was Shivani’s voice she noticed first. (— Her eyes second. Her lips third.) It’s clear and with an elegant lilt to it, her tone higher when she speaks Gujarati, a voice that made Nat want to listen to her talking about anything, in any language. She finds herself listening to her as though her voice was music, able to hear her even from a distance, as though it was a rope thrown to her. When she hears her name, she knows. Shivani is reaching out for her. They’re close enough that Nat could stoop to kiss her, or sweep her off her feet and carry her home, or —

“A few years ago, researchers discovered that bacteria are not able to survive on a dragonfly’s wings. They’re what’s called “bactericidal”,” Shivani says, “Those wings — they look so delicate, but they might be the key to preventing infection and saving millions and millions of lives. It’s so simple, really. On their wings, there are these structures called nanopillars. They’re like — little spikes. They have different sizes and lengths, and they trap and tear apart bacteria on a microscopic level. It’s as though the bacteria land on a knife point. They can’t survive that. So you’ll never find a dragonfly with a wing infection.”

Nat reminds herself to focus, gaze finding the dragonfly again, lulled by Shivani’s voice. Another has joined it, skimming the water. A blue body, white bands on its wings — another male.

“And they’re trying to use that research to create nanopillar bandages. To prevent infections from open wounds. And — I thought you might find that interesting. That they’re dangerous hunters. But someday, in the future, they might be the reason why we have technology that can save someone like me. Or Verda. Or one of my students.”

When their eyes meet, Nat wants to collapse, overwhelmed by affection for her girlfriend.

She doesn’t have to say it explicitly. She knows exactly what Shivani is telling her, and her heart is aching as she lets go of her hand and reaches out to stroke her face, holding her round cheeks between her palms, desperate to kiss her.

“You’re right,” she murmurs, “I do find that interesting.”

“Nat,” Shivani says, “You know you can tell me when something is wrong, right? Whenever you want. I’ll listen. I want to help you. You’re my girlfriend. I want you to be happy.”

“Don’t worry,” Nat says, lowering her head, wrapping her arms around her shoulders as Shivani rises on her toes, their lips finally meeting. The kiss is sweet — the taste of honey lingers in the corners of Shivani’s mouth — and smokey, the Lapsang Souchong she drinks on her girlfriend’s lips now. “I’m happy. I want to know everything you know. Will you teach me more about the insects here?”

“Well,” Shivani says, suddenly not meeting her eyes, “There is one other thing I know about widow skimmers.”

“Go on, darling,” Nat says, already amused, immediately certain of where the change in her attitude is leading.

“Widow skimmers — when they — when they mate — they form —” her voice is getting quieter. If Nat touched her face again, she knows her girlfriend’s cheeks would be blazing hot, “When they mate they form a heart.”

Nat gasps softly, first, and then she laughs.

🪲 ‎

the opening line is courtesy of my aunt, who refers to the time of afternoon where the sun is low enough that the ocean starts to sparkle as "the diamond hour"! (the lake being a pearl is via my brain, though. i am delighted there is oyster art on my dash as i type this, i am taking it as a sign.)

a male widow skimmer by photographer greg lasley! i don't know where your wayhaven is, and they're native to north america, but it was so beautiful and distinct i couldn't resist choosing it for shivani to spot. (in my mind the two males nat spots at the end are lovers. parallels!)

information on the relationship between dragonflies and frogs is from this journal article and this blog post, and information about dragonflies' hunting is from this nyt article.

what shivani says about dragonfly wings being antimicrobial is true! here's an article about their nanopillar structure.

subscribe for more dragonfly facts with cami and shivani :-)

#i accidentally published the draft on december 15th lol #i hope you did not get notified about it #especially bc it was my formatting copy and the actual fic was still in google drive lmao #this came out a little angstier than i intended so i hope you still like it :) the intention was shivani comforting nat!#as a person with anxiety sometimes i wish i could be the one comforting the ones comforting me #you know?#also i wanted to share bug facts :)#one day i'll let go of n sewell and diamonds as a motif #but today is not that day #can u believe i forgot the tags #wayhavensecretsanta #twc #nat sewell

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