faderift | ( closed ) all you have is your fire

WHO: Magni & Lakshmi
WHAT: banter banter banter
WHEN: week or so after the return to Kirkwall
WHERE: Gallows
NOTES: none for now

Inevitably, she imagined, Lakshmi would wish that she'd asked to meet her elsewhere. Somewhere inside, more private. Hidden, in a way, though her Rani insisted that it was a matter for Magni's own— not safety, necessarily. Credibility? To not be seen speaking to the radical rifter who was so strange and scandalous after seeming so comparatively normal. Magni, however, has decided she doesn't give much of a shit.

She wants to be outside. These months and months in Kirkwall have ground at her, she realises. Taking away parts of her, and she does not want to be reforged by a place like this. It is time to go home, at least for a while, to breathe in the air of the Frostbacks so she can better heal in the cradle of the Mountain-Father.

The gardens of the Gallows are a poor substitute, but that is where she sits, the crutches she is reliant on resting on the rough wood of the bench she's claimed, torso wrapped around and supported as best it can be to help the injury at her lower back. Even when sitting she seems almost to loom amongst the roses.

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A very slight smile, a one shoulder shrug. Words could be very powerful things, and they could be empty. She tried to pick them carefully, but she lacked the art of them - for better and worse, she thought, but in this moment she hoped it gave them weight, and value. She is content to stay like this, really, just enjoy the quiet and her company, this room to be more careful with one another that they have carved out.

Even so, after some moments, she exhales weightily. "I... asked you here to tell you something. Good news, I think."

Though she falls silent again, frowning very slightly, as she tries to wrangle her words. "I decided to heed your advise." From before. It feels very long ago, now. "And return to Talonhold, for a time."

And it is, it is such good news, one that brings a smile so genuinely to her lips as she takes both her hands within her own, and bows her head to breath into Magni's hand, heating them with her breath in a soft kiss to her knuckles. Soft and smooth.

"It is good." Cradling them close, half turned up gaze under her brows, then drops them down, lashes against the curve of her cheek. "When do you leave?"

Magni lists closer, softly nudging Lakshmi's temple with her nose, breathes in the scent of her hair. So carefully washed and treated with warm oil and flowers, carrying memories of sketching blades and ridiculously teasing each other, of pulling Lakshmi back against her chest with nothing between them.

"When Varmas arrives." Today, or maybe tomorrow, but soon is in her tone, as she watches Lakshmi's eyelashes, how they rest against her skin. "He knows my faith. These mages are too scared to heal properly, they scatter like dandelion fuzz if they even think of a spirit. I must see the shamans." If I am to smith again, if I am to heal, if my body is to obey me as I wish it to.

Silence, though not so much as she might usually offer. "And I... when you are so close all I wish is to go to you. If I am to think of all you told me and decide what our path might hold, I need to— be the dandelion."

"You should. I know what your Hold means to you."

How she bathes in this comfort of it, selfishly. Their hands held together, settled between them, turning her head up to stretch into the soft brush, and give it in return. Taking long deep breathes to suck in the air.

"They do that," but isn't sure she trusts Magni's shamans anymore than she does the physicians here. Not for the first, and not for the last, she wished Tesla was here. "But promise me, before you put anything on your body, boil it in water first." That was what he had said was best, wasn't it? Something about some little things in the skin.

"As you must, walk as many paths as you need, for as long as you must. Of all things I have, time is the only one I can be sure of."

There are so many things needing saying, thoughts to be expressed, and no doubt questions each of them need to ask.

She sets aside seriousness for a moment, head canting very slightly at Lakshmi's advice. Slowly, with a seriousness that is entirely inappropriate:

"What good will my clothes be to wear if they're wet?"

(Remember that time, Lakshmi, that time you spoke about wise words?)

Lakshmi smiles, shakes her head. It would be too hard to explain, and in the end, the why was for clever men with microscopes. "Let them dry, but make sure the bandages especially get boiled. Think of it is as a superstition of mine, so I know you will be safe."

I hope you are bloody right about this Tesla. She didn't want to look half mad for no reason, unlike usual, looking mad for only sort of a reason.

A quiet laugh to herself, which her own joke certainly doesn't deserve because it was truly stupid. Ah, well. Lakshmi, it seems, is patient enough with her humour. Gently, she squeezes Lakshmi's hand. Silent reassurance, a promise to do as she asks in how Magni holds her gaze.

"You are a strange woman, Manikarnika, but for you?" For you, it will be done.

"That is all I ask." She bows her head to it, a deep relief of gratitude. Leaning in close to her, keeping them close, keep her near as she may, for as long as she could.

"How long do you think you will be?"

A very slight raising of her shoulders, a quiet murmur of uncertainty. "As long as wounds take to heal. As long as I might before the Thane orders me back."

Magni gently tips Lakshmi's chin up, to look at her. "I will return."

"Don't," the murmur is soft. Her hand lifts and sets on her chest above her heart. Palm flat and fingers gently curled in the way that any old swordsmen do, too hard to keep them straight, their starburst scars white against her brown skin. Feeling the beat against her weathered palm. Sure in her words as she is in it.

"Do not promise such a thing. It is your choice. I meant it. You owe me nothing, not even your return."

“It is not for owing you something that I would return,” she replied, voice soft. “No matter my decision, I will return. We shall still fight at one another’s side, even if some things are not to be.”

Because the world was so much bigger than both of them, and because she would see Lakshmi safe, no matter what happened between them.

"I will be honoured." She murmurs it back. Selfishly so, her head does not lift. At odds with the words for what they are. To speak of battle, distance and restraint. To place the lines that she will not cross should it come to it and insist that Magni remember them too.

But to not draw away, not even a little. To feel that soft puff of breath on her cheek. Warming her skin against the winter chill, even where the new scar is dulled from feeling much. To take that steadiness that Magni so simply was, and lean back into it like a crutch she could never admit to openly needing, but so gladly leans into. "Saawariya."

She cannot kiss her, for all that she longs to. To comfort Magni as much as to offer that comfort and affection to Lakshmi herself. Her exhale almost shakes with how that one word sounds on her tongue, and Magni leans forward (cautious, tender) to wrap her arms around Lakshmi and draw her into an embrace. The strength she would usually have is denied her, her mobility is sorely limited. Holding close, that— she hoped that would not be to violate the boundaries they are trying to observe.

Take great care of yourself, Manikarnika. Talonhold does not forgive those who allow harm to befall those precious to it. That is what she wishes she might say, the sentiment she might convey, but her words feel stolen from her, and her throat hoarse.

( closed ) all you have is your fire

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