Ilyssa had woken up in someone else's bed for the first time in her life to the sound of curtains opening. She pulled on the hotel blanket and shuffled, her eyes wide open but turned off. A voice she had only begun to get used to hearing in person spoke to her:
“Get up, Illie. I'd like to get to the center early today. I have a few things I want to say to the host of my Q & A, and it would be preferable to get my word in before others.”
Bringing her finger up to her temple, she pressed on it gently for a few seconds before her eyes booted up, immediately exposing her to the morning sun; she quickly winced and forced them shut. She heard footsteps going from the window to the bedside table on the other side of the bed and a click from a remote awakened the television's speakers as the anchor talked about this year's ModCon. With her eyes still closed, she got up from the bed and sat on it, this time the footsteps moving towards the bathroom.
Only when Ilyssa knew that Bismuth was standing in front of the hotel's mirror and was attaching their mods did she turn to her right and open her eyes. Despite having spent the entire day with them, their naked body glistened in the sunlight. Three of their four limbs shared a chrome hue, with vibrant vine-like patterns glowing and reacting to their movements. Their right arm, however, was composed of loud, striking bouts of iridescence, with each of their five fingers splitting into a unique color of their own.
Bringing her eyes to their center, their torso had a radiant crystalline pattern, and they had put on a dark grey jacket with transparent sleeves as well as a pair of torn grey shorts, having a lighter hue than their top. Their hair, styled like their right arm, beamed as if to blind anyone who caught a glimpse. Their skin on their face did not look synthetic, even if it still was; in fact, their form was nearly completely artificial. However, in the dark, with their glowing aesthetics dimmed down, a difference could not be felt to the touch.
She felt like her eyes were blessed to see them in this way. She felt even better when she had thought about how they made love to her the night before, and how they shared innocuous details about their day after the matter. She took comfort in knowing that they did not take them to their room strictly for whatever beauty they found in her; the connection between them was something to bring to her chest and to hold dearly.
Bismuth knew she was staring at them, and woke her up for the second time that morning. “Illie, darling, I love the attention and all, but you have to get ready soon. We're leaving in thirty minutes.”
She jumped. Thirty minutes was not enough time for her. Hastily putting on her sandals, she grabbed her makeup bag and took to the toiletries, running to the bathroom. Bismuth, not wanting to stress Ilyssa out, spoke through the door. “Please don't rush yourself, I don't actually mind getting there as early as intended. If anything, it's your booth that opens first. Take it easy, okay?”
Enough time had passed for Bismuth to let their mind wander, and, sitting on their bed, they tinkered with their left arm as they passively listened to the news reporter, with the event they were participating in grabbing their attention.
“Today marks the second day of ModCon, a convention bringing the world's greatest synthetic limb modifiers, also known as modders, all in one place, showcasing their newest innovations in practical and aesthetic limb enhancements. The most notable name to be featured today is none other than Bismuth, the first person to have a nearly fully artificial body. They'll be hosting a Q & A panel at one, and many fans are eager to ask them questions about their lifestyle, as outside of their marks on the runway, they seem to be less indulgent in public perception.”
Bismuth really only desired the attention during a performance or a show; being recognized outside made them nervous as any little vulnerability they showed could easily be used against them. When in the open, they'd wear long coats and muted their limbs to match a somewhat medium skin-tone, and turned off the reactiveness of their hair to keep it as one colour. It was due to their heterochromatic eyes looking down at her during their break, their sunglasses that had been meant to hide such a detail innocuously sliding down their nose, that their identity was revealed to her. From there, a conversation turned into a laugh, and a laugh turned into a hotel name and a room number.
Opening the door, Ilyssa walked out, her outfit being a little more reasonable than Bismuth's.
She was there to sell her mods, not to showcase them on her own body. Her only mod was her eyes, and she only got them to help her sleep. The light at her old room in her parents' house flickered during the night, and blindfolds were too itchy when it came to rest. They had many other features, such as a zoom function or a tinted “sunglasses” mode, but she didn't bother spending a night configuring them.
She spotted Bismuth on their bed, and they looked back at her. Unable to read the emotions on their face, she spoke.
“So… Do I look good?”
“I couldn't tell, it's been less than twenty four hours we've been around each other. Your outfit and figure, however, is indeed stunning.”
The way they chose to compliment her, despite how alien it felt, was smooth and charming in a way that was new to her. They walked to the elevator, and as the buttons glowed to the touch and the door slowly closed, Ilyssa turned to Bismuth and looked up at them. They kept their head facing straight, but once they noticed her, they softly looked down and kissed her.
The speaker blared “Ground Floor, going up” as the elevator door opened, and the two walked to Bismuth's van, and drove off.
Arriving at ModCon, they decided to split for the day. Ilyssa needed to get her booth ready, and Bismuth wanted to change into a more subtle outfit before exploring the tables and admiring the other modders.
The morning had passed relatively quickly—Ilyssa's did at least; even though the number of mods she had sold was comparable to yesterday's, her mind was not at her stand, having wandered elsewhere. She had made several mistakes during that time, handing out the wrong mod or miscalculating change, and embarrassment would flood her mind. But the simple thought of going back to Bismuth's hotel room, the sound of the door shutting and the deadbolt locking, as well as the ensuing acts, had left her feeling hopeful and regarded.
At twelve fifty five she had noticed the traffic around her table drop to near-zero, and she put up an “On Break :)” sign, closed the lights around her stall, and covered her mods with a tarp as she walked to the auditorium. Only now when she wasn't huddled up on an uncomfortable folding chair did she realize how silent it was; perhaps, she thought, her mind was making enough noise for her anyway. She already knew what Bismuth's outfit and presentation was, and yet it felt like everyone would see them in a brand new way: in a panel, where they'd interact to the audience not as a performer, but as a person. Everyone, except for Ilyssa, of course; she got first dibs on their impression last night, she had told herself.
Entering the auditorium, the crowd was ever so slightly nauseating for her: too many heads listening, too many lights blaring, too many people that, under the wrong circumstances, would turn around and stare directly into her, upon which she would turn off her eyes and fall into the floor. Bearing her teeth, she stood on the tips of her toes and caught a glimpse of the only reason she came into the room. She had wished she had figured out how to zoom in with her eyes, if only to truly admire their beauty from afar. It was hard for her to pay attention to what they were saying, but she had no need to; as easy as it was to imagine the questions she'd ask them, it was comparably easier to guess their response. In her mind, she went back and forth, painting a most elegant portrait of their character with questions and answers, and, being satisfied with what she had made, she left the auditorium, not wanting the crowd to unexpectedly give her unwanted attention.
Her mind did not form any memories of the next four hours, only more images of Bismuth beckoning to her, holding her close to their chest and caressing her gently, among other methods of displaying affection towards her. Once her phone alarm blared at four forty, she picked it up and quickly turned off the message reading “GO TO THEIR VAN”. She hastily sold one last mod before closing her booth for the day, and lightly walked to an exit before staking out at the parking lot where their van sat.
In the left corner, it had blended so well, what with the harsh shadows cast by the van's walls, and the desaturated look it took form in. A dufflebag, considerable in size, hid from her gaze, yet once spotted, it beckoned to her, piquing her curiosity in an alien way. She did not have time to peer any longer as she heard the back door open and Bismuth, having put back on their less flashy outfit, configured their limbs to turn off the reactiveness. Seeing them distracted, she quietly went to a wall and leaned on it, appearing casually. Only then did they notice her. “Oh, Ilie. What are you here for?”
She stuttered, clumsily attempting to hide her nervousness. “I-I was, um, looking to get some fresh air, before getting into a taxi and leaving.” Ilyssa was good at many things: modding, caring for her friends who were unfortunately not as into modding as she was, and arriving on time. Lying was not part of her skill set.
Bismuth softly giggled. “Right. Well, I'll let you know that the lock on my van's shotgun seat is broken. I'll see you around?” She did not reply. As the exhaust pipe loudly roared, they began softly pulling out of their parking space when the alarms began blaring and a mild shriek erupted from behind their van. The back camera turned on, and showed a distorted view of Ilyssa quietly staring at the rear end. After a moment, she began to walk again, and, after leaving the camera's view, slowly opened the passenger seat's door and sat, unwilling to make eye contact. She put her eyes to her temple and turned them off before the headrest comforted her, and Bismuth, with a smile on their face, finally pulled out of the space and drove.
It began to rain, drop by drop, and Ilyssa had heard them, one by one, on her side of the windshield. “Hey, Biz, it's gonna—”
“Yep, I know.” They groaned. “Could you do me a favor and get my coat from the trunk? Or an umbrella? Please?”
Ilyssa was preparing her response, perhaps a “Yes” or a “Sure”, uncertain, but they spoke first. “Oh, actually, I could just get off at the roof thing the hotel has.”
“The portico.” For some reason she couldn't pinpoint, she hesitated a strange amount for every word she uttered, an amount she wouldn't dare to blame on Biz.
“The portico, thank you. Actually, I'll still request that you bring that umbrella and coat, would you, Ilie?”
She hated the hesitation in her mind, how it seemingly showed up out of nowhere, and how it clouded her judgement, when previously she could trust that, when it came to it, Bismuth's word was infallible. She decided that for the moment, she would shove it all into a dark corner of her mind, and that in the near future she would take a moment to process this. But for now, all she did was agree, with a quiet “Mhm” emanating from inside her mouth.
“Thank you kindly, darling.”
Driving under the hotel's portico, Bismuth softly put the keys into Ilyssa's palm, and walked through the automatic doors. She saw them greet the receptionist and turn to the hallway leading to the elevator they one shared a kiss in. Tearing her eyes off the window, she moved to the driver's seat and parked close to a back entrance, as is their usual.
Opening the trunk, as she fetched both their coat and umbrella, the dufflebag sat in the corner, hidden in the darkness. It did not need to get her attention, for its mere presence was loud enough in her mind to signal something—awful, perhaps, and it had captivated her. As she stood in the rain, the twisted shadow screaming in silence in front of her, in one motion, she took a harsh step back and swung the trunk's door shut. She took a few heavy breaths and pressed her fingers to her temple. She then scurried over to the back entrance, and after a few moments to breathe, walked to the elevator and pressed the chrome button with an upwards arrow on it. Entering, she pressed one more button and looked down at the umbrella and coat she was holding as the doors closed on her.