closed.

[tender]

WHO: Derrica + Ellie
WHAT: Patch job.
WHEN: August-ish.
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Discussion of violence, will update as needed.

The Gallows is not a small place, but it manages to be insular. Things don't go unnoticed for long.

And so that is why they're here now, in Derrica's room, with her satchel open across the bed. She'd corralled Ellie, pressed her into sitting upon while Derrica drew a chair up in front of her. The shutters have been pushed open to let in the sea air, cooling the space.

Derrica hasn't asked what happened, not in so many words. There's a way to draw that out of Ellie, but she doesn't know how to say it. Not yet. So she's examining her with very gentle hands, careful as she takes in every bruise and scrape.

"I can ease most of this," she tells Ellie. "If you like."

Because that's important too: what Ellie wants, what she'd like Derrica to do. It's always important that someone makes the choice to ask for her magic, rather than the bandages and ointments in her satchel.

Comments

[tender]

"I was."

Her hands pause in her hair, then sweep carefully down through the loose tendrils before she returns to unwinding her braid. It doesn't occur to her that Ellie is asking the question in the sense that magic should have protected her.

"That's part of why he came up after me," Derrica explains, though this is something she understood much later. "It's the way you would approach any kind of fight, by wanting to handle the people who are posing the biggest threat as quickly as you can."

[notathreat]

Should have protected her, should have enabled her to attack at range. But Ellie's expression turns more grim, and she breathes in, letting it all out in a slow sigh.

"Smart of him," she says, and realizes a heartbeat later that that probably sounds cold.

"Glad you're okay, though. That must've hurt like a bitch. How bad was it?"

[tender]

Something Ellie might have the pleasure of learning about Derrica: she has never been so found of attacking at range when she could be swinging the blunt end of her staff into someone's kneecap.

But in the moment—

"Bad enough," Derrica says. One last plait, and she shifts her hands to it as she explains, "I was able to do something for it in the moment, but I couldn't expend too much energy when there was still so much happening. And then after..."

A second shrug.

"There were people worse off. I spent what I had left on them first."

Turning to look at Ellie, she smiles a little and confesses, "And I don't mind the scars."

[notathreat]

Settling her head on the pillow, Ellie frowns at her. It's not like she can get after her for putting others before herself when it's so far in the past, but it does mean that she'll be more careful of her in future missions.

Survival often depends on making sure to properly see to one's hurts, and not downplaying them.

Still, she smiles back at the comment about the scars.

"I don't either," she answers. Which is probably a good thing, considering how many she has. She pulls up the side of her tunic, showing Derrica the one in nearly the same place. It's a stab wound, but messy, like Derrica's.

"Slavers."

[tender]

The first, immediate urge Derrica has is to put her palm over that mark. It won't help anything. Derrica isn't even certain it would be a comfort to Ellie, nevermind whether or not it's something that should be done. There is quiet examination, before Derrica lets out a breath.

Her hands settle into her lap. The few pieces of jewelry there clink as she begins scooping them into one palm. Derrica's hair streams in waves over her shoulders, unbound.

"You don't have healers where you come from, do you?"

Not that it guaranteed anything. There was a limit to what even healers can do. Derrica's own scars are an illustration of that.

[notathreat]

This scar isn't something that Ellie's apparently all that bothered over, and she can see the way Derrica's attention shifts to it. She impulsively wants to take her hand, to show her it's okay, but bites back the urge, the kick to her heart.

Touch is a loaded thing, but thankfully Ellie's racked up a lot of years dodging these impulses.

"No. No magic either."

Ellie's expression sobers a bit, as she studies Derrica's face. "Did you choose to be a healer? Like, studied for it? Or was it something you just found out you could do?"

[tender]

Before she answers, Derrica leans over to tip the bits of jewelry into the shallow bowl sat on the side table. When she turns back, she settles herself up against the headboard, legs drawn up.

"When you have magic, the way mages like I do, it...comes to you, at some point. Some of us have a skill for certain kinds of magic."

And Derrica pauses then, considering. Maybe thinking of how to explain, or how best to translate such a thing for Ellie.

"I had a gift for healing. It came easier to me than any other kind of magic. So that's what I spent the most time studying. I could have chosen something else, but having a talent for healing isn't something to be put aside. If it were fire, or ice, maybe, but..."

A trailing pause, then she shrugs with a small smile. The point is easily taken from that. How can anyone ignore a gift like this?

[notathreat]

Ellie turns onto her side, cheek on the pillow and hair spread across it, next to her, her eyes softer and trained on Derrica's hands as she drinks it all in, paints the colors of Derrica's past into the lines she's drawn in her mind.

"Fits you."

It's hard to imagine her as anything else, really. Some people are just like that. But she knows that the people who are kindest often have the most steel.

"You went from being a healer, to being a pirate?"

[tender]

A hesitation.

Not pained just, thinking. Remembering. When she tips her head to Ellie, it's with a small smile.

"I was a healer on ships too. It's why that first crew allowed me to stay. Healers are always necessary."

Whatever other roles she'd played, it had always come back to that. Knitting wounds back together, new-made apostate. Not the life she'd ever pictured when she was growing up in Dairsmuid.

"Am I keeping you awake?" is a softer question, Derrica studying Ellie's face. She has to be exhausted, after all she's gone through.

[notathreat]

Ellie sees the hesitation and tenses, ready for walls to be thrown up, and relaxes slowly when they don't come. She nods, fitting it into what she knows, and decides not to pry. Derrica has asked her so little, it feels shitty to want to dig into her past, lay it open just for her own curiosity.

Ellie knows how she'd feel, if someone did the same.

"No," she answers, just as softly, shifting on the mattress. "I don't sleep all that much. Probably keeping you awake, though."

[tender]

There's a question Derrica could ask: What keeps you awake?

But she thinks she knows enough to guess at it. Or part of it. So she doesn't, just slides down the mattress to stretch out alongside Ellie. Derrica is very deliberate about how she arranges her body, how much space she leaves Ellie on her side of the mattress.

"Is there anything that helps you sleep?" is maybe an easier question. As if it was as simple as opening the shutters or keeping a light on.

[notathreat]

Turning onto her side to face Derrica, Ellie props her head up with her hand, settles the other down between them, fingers relaxed as she picks idly at the blanket, playing with the fabric.

She no longer startles or hangs back from her, but she's not to the point of reaching for her on her own.

"... music," she answers, with a wistful half-smile, looking at Derrica's eyes. "Or reading, sometimes. Looking at the stars, on good nights."

[tender]

Music is impossible, unless they want to wake Bastien at this hour and persuade him to sit in the hall with one of his instruments. Derrica has no books, but Holden is likely away, and would have one to spare.

But the easiest option—

"Here, let me see if this helps."

The Gallows windows are narrow by design, not really meant for stargazing. But Derrica pushes the shutters open, then tips her head towards the pillows.

"If you lay with your head at the foot of the bed, you'll be able to see out. It's a mostly clear night, I think."

[notathreat]

Ellie can't help but smile, warmed by the thought, and looks from the window back to Derrica; it's been a serious and exhausting sort of day, but she's still got just enough juice left in her to give a little snort of laughter.

"You come too. Unless you want feet in your face."

[tender]

"I will."

With one last fussy adjustment to the shutters, Derrica does return. And resettle. And tip her head towards the window, considering the view.

"Better?" she questions, soft as she rearranges the blankets, the pillows. It's not the same as sleeping under an open sky, but it's something.

[notathreat]

"Yeah," Ellie whispers back, settling with her on the blankets, close to her side, watching the slip of stars she can see on the velvety black of the night sky. With the shutters open they can better hear the echoes of the sea below, steady as a heartbeat.

It's relaxing.

Without thought, she pulls up the blanket, reaches across Derrica to tuck it in around her back, the movement mindless, tender, like it's something she's done hundreds of times, making sure they both have enough to stay warm. She catches herself, her hand briefly pausing before she slowly pulls her arm back, letting herself settle.

"Thanks."

slap a bow onto this pls

[tender]

It's unexpected, and all the sweeter for it. Derrica is so aware of Ellie's boundaries, of what she'd asked that first day they'd met. The brief arrangement of the blanket, and the shift in proximity with which she accomplishes it, feels remarkable. Having closed her eyes, Derrica opens them to look at Ellie, watching her. Assessing, making certain of Ellie before smiling at her.

"You're welcome," Derrica tells her, to the tune of anytime.

An easy promise to extend. It comes without hesitation, as Derrica exhales, closes her eyes again.