precious blood
. helium lost .

Author's Notes: Being that this is the first time I've attempted to write Palm and Novu, and that there's been minimal editing (I'm pretty tired today), any and all feedback regarding their characterization (and anything else, really) is greatly appreciated. Thanks!

Challenge/Theme: 1sentence at Livejournal—write one sentence for each of the fifty themes; I chose set beta.

Disclaimer: Hunter x Hunter © Yoshihiro Togashi, SHUEISHA, etc.

x x x x x

"N-Novu-sama," she begins, shyly looking up at him with those large, fathomless eyes of hers as she hears the clack-clack of her high heels tapping against the ground.

"What?" he replies, barely turning to look at her—but that's enough to send her heart into a frenzied dance, fluttering against her chest as her cheeks burn; she's sure that the glow is evident even in the dark.

"…Nothing," she murmurs, dark curtain of frazzled hair hiding her face again—a face that she wishes she could show to Novu, if only she weren't so shy, but… Well, what would Novu think, anyway; he'd undoubtedly seen faces prettier than hers, and…

"Will you be okay?" she asks hesitantly, hoping that he sees her concern for him, deep and unbreakable.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he replies, "Can't be too difficult, knocking little insects over left and right."

"But it's NGL—middle of nowhere, with virtually no means of communication to the outside world—" (to me, she thinks to herself) "—what if you get hurt; the doctors won't come soon enough!"

He rolls his eyes and looks at her for the first time that evening, saying, "You act as if I can't take care of myself—have all your drinks muddled your mind?"

Tears spring to her eyes at his words, those words with only a hinting of a sharp tone to them—"But you'll be waging a total war on them with Netero, won't you, and no one knows what's going to happen!"

He sighs, then says, "You just don't understand, do you—it's nothing new, just a combination of all my training and life experiences up to this date."

She feels the beginning of that sinking feeling again, that feeling of being brushed aside, like that time years ago when she'd sent out hundreds and hundreds of invitations for her birthday party, but not a single soul showed up… And she was left sitting alone at the chair at the end of the long, grand table, the birthday hat haphazardly seated atop her head—the tears had come before the fury, her fists shaking, until she heard the gentle steps of someone coming—and Novu had come in, his figure framed so perfectly by the door, and she knew that she had to be his… From that moment on, she'd loved him with all her heart—and only him—even if he'd hardly batted an eye in her direction, pausing only to tell her as he left that the food was good. Despite his indifference, she'd continued toiling after him with that burning passion guiding her, catering to his every need, just to see maybe the faintest glimmer of a smile on his face.

When she learned that Novu had left her to learn nen, she swore to herself (clenching her fists so hard that red crescents welled up on her palms) that she'd learn nen, too, or else stop breathing. Day after day she'd sit at that dinner table, meditating and calming her mind in front of that unwavering cup of coffee, up to the point where she swore she felt her head breaking in two. But she'd continued on anyway—for years and years—because maybe, just maybe, Novu would pay more attention to her if she could do something useful, do what he could.

The next time he came in, the door framed his figure in that same way, despite the fact that he'd grown taller after all those years—and there was something different about him, something even more majestic, just flowing from him; and she'd felt that bubble of elation swell up inside her, too strong to be popped by anything, at seeing him again. They'd gone out to the balcony, looking up at the stars together as he told her about nen and precisely how it worked—she hadn't understood the details then (and even had difficulty now)—but, then again, she hadn't been listening to his discussion, really; her focus was just on being so close to him, close enough almost to feel his breath upon her skin.

When it came down to it, he'd said as the moon set, nen wasn't so much a skill as it was a way of life—those without the ability to use it were like dead, hollow beings, trudging a meaningless, monotonous life.

And she had said, in the dead quiet of the night—punctuated only by the shrill cries of grasshoppers—that she wanted to learn nen, too, and only from him. He'd complied, probably more out of pity rather than anything else; at first, her quirks had very nearly been unbearable—her need to know exactly where he was at all times, her manic obsessiveness, her uncontrolled bouts of fury—but gradually, he'd come to get used to it, realizing her potential, if only she would channel some of that energy in the right direction.

Day after day, month after month, he'd drill her with that icy look in his eyes, something not hidden even a touch by the glasses he wore, and she'd obeyed everything he'd said, never pausing to question anything. He expected her to protest, argue with him—after all, some of the exercises were truly tedious, and would appear absurd at surface value—but she said nothing, and when she did say something, her voice was filled with so much adoration and admiration that he'd often felt guilty.

So he turned that guilt into more and more ridiculous procedures, up to the point where the line between training and just testing the limits of her devotion to him became so blurred that he'd forgotten that there was a line there in the first place—and just when she looked as if she were about to quit, she'd glance up at his cold figure, and continue on…

"Novu," she says suddenly, jolting herself out of her thoughts.

He looks at her again, and sees the clear devotion and affection in her eyes—if it were anyone else, it would look like some bad parody, some joke, some shojo manga with too many sparkles and bubbles—but with her, it seems to ring so true.

"Please… d-don't… don't die," she says, the tears welling up in her eyes as she turns away, ashamed for even suggesting such a thought, but the fact remains that she can't bear the thought of living without him. He sees the tears sparkling in the moonlight like precious stones as her breathing becomes irregular, ragged.

"Just stop thinking about it," he says, then puts his hands in his pockets and turns away, as well.

The quiet continues as they walk together by the riverside, the stars twinkling above them; he smirks, then says, "It'll be fun."

And she starts to sob, the tears spilling over, as she clasps a hand to her mouth, trying to stop, trying to stop, and she bites down on her hand to muffle those painful sobs, biting so hard that her hand begins to bleed miniscule droplets of that precious, crimson blood… Yet, she knows she's being ridiculous; why is she even acting like this in front of her beloved Novu?

But in the darkness, she feels him reach out and put his arms around her, and she feels herself melting and exploding at the same time—if that's even possible—with that secret joy, and when he says, "Hey, I'll be okay; stop crying," his words are like music to her ears. Her body trembles in his arms, and the pain in her hand stings more than the bitterest of sarcasm, but what does that pain matter compared to the elation she feels right now, held tightly in his arms?

She wishes she could offer more to Novu, instead of that disgusting little shriveled-up creature and its crystal, seeing all, but that seems to be all Novu is interested in; he won't take anything else from her.

"I wish you loved me…" she murmurs to herself, then realizes too late when he tenses up that she's voiced her thoughts. He pulls away from her, something she regrets instantly, and takes hold of her shoulders, staring deep into her eyes.

"Why do you say that?" he says, then adds, "I do love you."

Even though her heart leaps at his words, her mind knows that they're not true, and even though she's standing there with him, she feels torn, and utterly alone.

"It's just…" she says, feeling that heavy sinking void within her as Novu's eyes drill holes into her.

"Just tell me, Palm," he says, face expressionless—no concern, yet no curiosity, either.

Her face pales that slightest shade, and she says, almost too softly to hear—"You… just want my hatsu, don't you?"

He draws her close into another embrace and whispers in her ear, "No, no, of course not."

But she knows he's lying; Novu can never lie properly—his voice takes on a honeyed tone that doesn't fit him, doesn't appear to be natural. As the moon disappears below the horizon, a last, lone tear slips down her cheek and falls to the ground, the spot it leaves blending into the darkness, full and complete, of the night.

And, in confidence surprising even herself, Novu looks up and meets his eyes directly, and sees maybe even a glimmer of truth—or maybe a figment of her imagination; she's not sure—but that's enough for her, and she begins to think as her heart swells again, maybe…

They reach Palm's place, and she waits patiently for the kiss that she knows will never come—but, much to her surprise, Novu leans over and kisses her on the cheek, gently, lightly, almost unfelt—but surely.

And, for a moment, she thinks she's won.

But then, as he walks away without even a backward glance at her, she realizes that she's been losing her whole life…

x x x x x

Author's Notes: Loved it? Hated it? Well, please, let me know, and tell me why. As usual, any and all constructive criticism, feedback, etc. is greatly appreciated. Thanks :)