Post by PeroxidePirate on Sept 9, 2010 8:05:16 GMT 10
Title: Wild World Before Me
Rating: PG
Prompt: 31. The Aesthetic of Lostness
Summary: The world is a big and beautiful place, if you know where to look.
It was mid-morning: Daja could tell by the way the light shone on her eyelids, even though she was more asleep than awake. She was comfortable, with blankets pulled up to her neck and the curves of another woman's back snug against her front. She couldn't see any reason to get up, really.
She moved her head forward on the pillow, to feel the smooth silkiness of Rizu's hair.
Her cheek found a mass of hair with the texture of unspun wool, carrying a very faint scent of metal and smoked tea. Every muscle in her body went tense as she came to complete wakefulness, realizing where she was and who she was with.
“Morning,” Polyam said. Somehow in that one word, Daja could tell she'd been awake for some time.
“Sorry.” Daja quickly unwrapped her arm from around Polyam's waist. She rolled onto her back, and promptly fell out of the narrow bunk, landing on the floor with a thud.
She lay there, eyes falling closed again, and wondered if there was any chance of the floor opening up beneath her.
The nails holding the boards together quivered with interest; the ones nearest to her practically itched to work their way out of the wood.
Stop that, she admonished. I didn't mean it.
She had to have been in a few situations that were more embarrassing than this – she'd survived two fires, after all: one left her naked, and the other left her completely exposed. She could handle this – whatever it was.
She sat up, turning so she could look toward the bed. Polyam was also sitting up, with her bare leg curled under her and her stump hidden in the hem of a nightshirt. Daja looked away. “I'm sorry.” She whispered it this time.
“Don't be. It was nice.”
Daja lifted her eyes, and Polyam gave her that almost-sneer that should have been a grin. “It's been a long time since I shared a bed with someone – in any sense. I like my space, but... it's nice, now and then. Daja, I could have woken you hours ago. I could have gotten up. I chose not to.”
Polyam's voice was low; smoky and intriguing as the tea Daja liked so much. Her hair was tossled, her nightshirt rumpled, and as she shifted position, the white linen outlined her shape. Daja hated the way she suddenly wanted what she could have had for the asking the night before. She didn't avoid the other woman's gaze now, though: it occurred to her that Polyam, with all her scars, might think Daja found her unappealing. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Polyam's face was still, her expression somewhere between bemusement and patience.
“Now what?” Daja asked.
Polyam straightened her shoulders. “Things for washing are there.” She pointed. “Extra shirts in that cupboard, if you'd like to borrow one. The waterskin should be full – and I don't need to remind you not to lose the cork.” Daja grinned; it was a lesson all tsaw'ha learned early. “And I'll go make us breakfast, as soon as I get this contraption attached.”
Daja watched as Polyam reached into a narrow, yard-long compartment at the head of the bed, retrieving her metal leg.
“You had that shelf specially made?”
Polyam's lip curled; when she spoke, it was with some of the bitterness Daja remember from their first conversations, long ago, when they were trangshi and qunsuanen. “Children like to play pranks. Men do, too. It's embarrassing, at my age – or your age, even – having to ask one's mother for help reaching the roof of a wagon.”
Daja winced in sympathy, but Polyam was already standing up and pulling on her breeches. “I'll meet you outside – follow the smoke.”
Alone in the wagon, Daja took her time washing and changing. When she was done, she settled cross-legged on the floor, with her back against the bunk, and sank into her power. She'd been nearly drained the night before – it had been a stretch to reach Tris, possible only because of the strong emotion they were both feeling. Now she was refreshed, and the ties to her three saati blazed bright in her mind's eye.
Tris? she sent a pulse of energy down the tie.
I wondered if you'd try to reach me. Her mental voice was emotionless as she asked, How was your night?
Daja answered with equal blandness. It was fine. How was yours?
Not restful, Tris said candidly. But I sorted some things out.
I'm glad.
Well, I don't have time to talk about it now. I have things to do.
Daja rubbed at the living metal on her right palm. Oh?
Sandry's on her way to the house. I need to talk to her and Briar. Tris hesitated, blocking Daja from the majority of her thoughts. I'd appreciate if you'd leave us be, she finished.
I see, Daja answered, though she didn't. It was hard not to be hurt when her saati wouldn't tell her what was going on. It's a private party, and I'm not invited.
You told me to talk to them! Tris's magical presence flared in frustration. And you're right, but I need to do it my way. Please.
Daja sighed, pushing her own hurt away to the back of her mind. Of course you do, she agreed. All right. I'll stay out of it.
Thank you. A wisp of wind brushed Daja's cheek, and she couldn't be sure if it was real or magical. I'll be in touch.
Tris broke their connection, retreating into herself, and Daja let her go.
“It's half a day's ride to the castle,” Kirel said, over breakfast. “If we go now, we can get there and get packed up tonight. We can leave for Winding Circle tomorrow.”
Daja closed her eyes, hands wrapped tightly around a tin cup full of tea.
“And Summersea,” he added quickly. He knew she still missed living in the temple village.
“I'm not going back,” Daja said, opening her eyes.
Polyam froze, teacup halfway to her mouth, curious hopeful eyes locked on Daja's face.
Daja shrugged, then gave a tiny nod: they'd talk about it later.
She turned back to Kirel. “I'll go with you to the castle, of course, and make my report to Her Ladyship. Then you'd better go on to Winding Circle without me.”
Lady Inoulia and the smith were glad to hear that Daja and her friends had purified the copper. They were less pleased to learn it was the young mages who had – unintentionally – caused the impurity in the first place. Lady Inoulia's mood brightened when Daja not only refused payment for the work, but also offered to buy the magic-infected copper for her own use. “It's only fair,” she insisted, “given how much I've benefited from the talents I developed during my first trip to Gold Ridge.
“Dedicate Kirel deserves to be paid for his work, of course,” she added, pulling a small package from her tunic pocket. “My friend.” She turned to Kirel, pressing the velvet pouch into his hands. Most of the gold would go into Winding Circle's treasury; she still felt she owed zokin to the temple, though no one else saw it as such. “Give my love to the others, please.”
He studied her face, and she met his pale eyes steadily. They were both thinking of Tris, she realized.
Daja smiled. “I wish you well,” she whispered, in Trader-talk.
She turned back to the others. “Lady Inoulia. Master Smith. It has been a pleasure.” She gave them a Trader-style bow, and then, without waiting to be formally excused, she fled the room.
Daja was in her rooms, packing, when Polyam found her. Like Tris, she walked carefully on the stairs.
She spoke in Trader-talk. “You really mean it? You're not going back?”
Daja nodded.
“Are you traveling with us, then?” The question was tentative, but hopeful.
“When do you leave Gold Ridge?”
Polyam leaned on her staff, studying the younger woman. “Four days.”
“Then I have a little time to decide.” Daja pressed her palms together.
“Nothing like planning ahead,” Polyam chided.
Daja laughed. “I know I'd have fun, traveling with you.”
Polyam answered with a one-sided grin.
“But everything I said last night is still true.”
“I know.”
Daja held out her right hand, palm up. Polyam took it, flesh pressing against the living metal that coated Daja's skin.
Daja's voice was soft. “I will always think fondly of you. And one day...” She gripped Polyam's hand more tightly. “One day, maybe.”
“One day could be a long way off. Someone else might tell me yes. Someone else might tell me now.”
“I'm not asking for anything I can't give in return. Polyam, I wish you happiness in any case.”
Polyam laughed again, though she didn't loosen her hold on Daja's hand. “You're going to tell me 'maybe' and leave it at that?”
She's not at all nervous about the living metal, Daja realized, because she lives with it, too.
“Well,” she said, bringing her free hand up to grip Polyam's shoulder. “Maybe.”
It felt right to kiss her, to lose herself in the strange-familiar sensations. After a moment, it felt just as right to stop.
Daja was in the forge, alone, when she felt Tris's call in her mind. She set aside the magicked copper she'd been working.
Did you get it sorted? Daja asked.
Tris answered in a rush. I'm leaving Summersea. I'm going to Lightsbridge, and I know nobody else thinks it's a good idea, but Daja, I need that license. I need to be sure I can make my way, honestly. I need to be sure I won't be tempted to war-magic. I need to know that if you come back – if any of you come back, next year or the year after or whenever it is – that it won't be because you're obligated to me.
What makes you think we don't want to come back?
Please. Tris made her exasperation abundantly clear. You've been dropping hints since you left, practically. And Sandry's been badgering Briar to go, anytime she thinks I'm not listening. She'll have to come back, I suppose, to help the duke. And Briar will come back – for his garden, if nothing else. But... Tris shook her head, braids quivering with contained energy. There's so much I don't know yet.
There is, Daja agreed. Isn't it wonderful?
Tris blinked. What are you going to do? she asked.
Daja shrugged, forgoing words to let images spill across their magical connection instead: the forge at Gold Ridge, and heaps of magic-saturated copper waiting to be worked. A Trader ship, brass rails glittering in the sun. Polyam's wagon, the rest of Third Caravan Idarun winding ahead. The shining white towers of Lightsbridge University, as Niko had described them long ago. Daja's mare, and a lone packhorse, setting off in an undefined direction. There were so many possibilities, all clustered about, waiting for her to choose.
I don't know, she said. I have absolutely no idea.
Daja stepped out of the forge, into the shining afternoon sun. The wind caressed her cheek, and she turned her face into it, grinning. Tris, we have the whole world before us. We could do anything.
Rating: PG
Prompt: 31. The Aesthetic of Lostness
Summary: The world is a big and beautiful place, if you know where to look.
It was mid-morning: Daja could tell by the way the light shone on her eyelids, even though she was more asleep than awake. She was comfortable, with blankets pulled up to her neck and the curves of another woman's back snug against her front. She couldn't see any reason to get up, really.
She moved her head forward on the pillow, to feel the smooth silkiness of Rizu's hair.
Her cheek found a mass of hair with the texture of unspun wool, carrying a very faint scent of metal and smoked tea. Every muscle in her body went tense as she came to complete wakefulness, realizing where she was and who she was with.
“Morning,” Polyam said. Somehow in that one word, Daja could tell she'd been awake for some time.
“Sorry.” Daja quickly unwrapped her arm from around Polyam's waist. She rolled onto her back, and promptly fell out of the narrow bunk, landing on the floor with a thud.
She lay there, eyes falling closed again, and wondered if there was any chance of the floor opening up beneath her.
The nails holding the boards together quivered with interest; the ones nearest to her practically itched to work their way out of the wood.
Stop that, she admonished. I didn't mean it.
She had to have been in a few situations that were more embarrassing than this – she'd survived two fires, after all: one left her naked, and the other left her completely exposed. She could handle this – whatever it was.
She sat up, turning so she could look toward the bed. Polyam was also sitting up, with her bare leg curled under her and her stump hidden in the hem of a nightshirt. Daja looked away. “I'm sorry.” She whispered it this time.
“Don't be. It was nice.”
Daja lifted her eyes, and Polyam gave her that almost-sneer that should have been a grin. “It's been a long time since I shared a bed with someone – in any sense. I like my space, but... it's nice, now and then. Daja, I could have woken you hours ago. I could have gotten up. I chose not to.”
Polyam's voice was low; smoky and intriguing as the tea Daja liked so much. Her hair was tossled, her nightshirt rumpled, and as she shifted position, the white linen outlined her shape. Daja hated the way she suddenly wanted what she could have had for the asking the night before. She didn't avoid the other woman's gaze now, though: it occurred to her that Polyam, with all her scars, might think Daja found her unappealing. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Polyam's face was still, her expression somewhere between bemusement and patience.
“Now what?” Daja asked.
Polyam straightened her shoulders. “Things for washing are there.” She pointed. “Extra shirts in that cupboard, if you'd like to borrow one. The waterskin should be full – and I don't need to remind you not to lose the cork.” Daja grinned; it was a lesson all tsaw'ha learned early. “And I'll go make us breakfast, as soon as I get this contraption attached.”
Daja watched as Polyam reached into a narrow, yard-long compartment at the head of the bed, retrieving her metal leg.
“You had that shelf specially made?”
Polyam's lip curled; when she spoke, it was with some of the bitterness Daja remember from their first conversations, long ago, when they were trangshi and qunsuanen. “Children like to play pranks. Men do, too. It's embarrassing, at my age – or your age, even – having to ask one's mother for help reaching the roof of a wagon.”
Daja winced in sympathy, but Polyam was already standing up and pulling on her breeches. “I'll meet you outside – follow the smoke.”
Alone in the wagon, Daja took her time washing and changing. When she was done, she settled cross-legged on the floor, with her back against the bunk, and sank into her power. She'd been nearly drained the night before – it had been a stretch to reach Tris, possible only because of the strong emotion they were both feeling. Now she was refreshed, and the ties to her three saati blazed bright in her mind's eye.
Tris? she sent a pulse of energy down the tie.
I wondered if you'd try to reach me. Her mental voice was emotionless as she asked, How was your night?
Daja answered with equal blandness. It was fine. How was yours?
Not restful, Tris said candidly. But I sorted some things out.
I'm glad.
Well, I don't have time to talk about it now. I have things to do.
Daja rubbed at the living metal on her right palm. Oh?
Sandry's on her way to the house. I need to talk to her and Briar. Tris hesitated, blocking Daja from the majority of her thoughts. I'd appreciate if you'd leave us be, she finished.
I see, Daja answered, though she didn't. It was hard not to be hurt when her saati wouldn't tell her what was going on. It's a private party, and I'm not invited.
You told me to talk to them! Tris's magical presence flared in frustration. And you're right, but I need to do it my way. Please.
Daja sighed, pushing her own hurt away to the back of her mind. Of course you do, she agreed. All right. I'll stay out of it.
Thank you. A wisp of wind brushed Daja's cheek, and she couldn't be sure if it was real or magical. I'll be in touch.
Tris broke their connection, retreating into herself, and Daja let her go.
“It's half a day's ride to the castle,” Kirel said, over breakfast. “If we go now, we can get there and get packed up tonight. We can leave for Winding Circle tomorrow.”
Daja closed her eyes, hands wrapped tightly around a tin cup full of tea.
“And Summersea,” he added quickly. He knew she still missed living in the temple village.
“I'm not going back,” Daja said, opening her eyes.
Polyam froze, teacup halfway to her mouth, curious hopeful eyes locked on Daja's face.
Daja shrugged, then gave a tiny nod: they'd talk about it later.
She turned back to Kirel. “I'll go with you to the castle, of course, and make my report to Her Ladyship. Then you'd better go on to Winding Circle without me.”
Lady Inoulia and the smith were glad to hear that Daja and her friends had purified the copper. They were less pleased to learn it was the young mages who had – unintentionally – caused the impurity in the first place. Lady Inoulia's mood brightened when Daja not only refused payment for the work, but also offered to buy the magic-infected copper for her own use. “It's only fair,” she insisted, “given how much I've benefited from the talents I developed during my first trip to Gold Ridge.
“Dedicate Kirel deserves to be paid for his work, of course,” she added, pulling a small package from her tunic pocket. “My friend.” She turned to Kirel, pressing the velvet pouch into his hands. Most of the gold would go into Winding Circle's treasury; she still felt she owed zokin to the temple, though no one else saw it as such. “Give my love to the others, please.”
He studied her face, and she met his pale eyes steadily. They were both thinking of Tris, she realized.
Daja smiled. “I wish you well,” she whispered, in Trader-talk.
She turned back to the others. “Lady Inoulia. Master Smith. It has been a pleasure.” She gave them a Trader-style bow, and then, without waiting to be formally excused, she fled the room.
Daja was in her rooms, packing, when Polyam found her. Like Tris, she walked carefully on the stairs.
She spoke in Trader-talk. “You really mean it? You're not going back?”
Daja nodded.
“Are you traveling with us, then?” The question was tentative, but hopeful.
“When do you leave Gold Ridge?”
Polyam leaned on her staff, studying the younger woman. “Four days.”
“Then I have a little time to decide.” Daja pressed her palms together.
“Nothing like planning ahead,” Polyam chided.
Daja laughed. “I know I'd have fun, traveling with you.”
Polyam answered with a one-sided grin.
“But everything I said last night is still true.”
“I know.”
Daja held out her right hand, palm up. Polyam took it, flesh pressing against the living metal that coated Daja's skin.
Daja's voice was soft. “I will always think fondly of you. And one day...” She gripped Polyam's hand more tightly. “One day, maybe.”
“One day could be a long way off. Someone else might tell me yes. Someone else might tell me now.”
“I'm not asking for anything I can't give in return. Polyam, I wish you happiness in any case.”
Polyam laughed again, though she didn't loosen her hold on Daja's hand. “You're going to tell me 'maybe' and leave it at that?”
She's not at all nervous about the living metal, Daja realized, because she lives with it, too.
“Well,” she said, bringing her free hand up to grip Polyam's shoulder. “Maybe.”
It felt right to kiss her, to lose herself in the strange-familiar sensations. After a moment, it felt just as right to stop.
Daja was in the forge, alone, when she felt Tris's call in her mind. She set aside the magicked copper she'd been working.
Did you get it sorted? Daja asked.
Tris answered in a rush. I'm leaving Summersea. I'm going to Lightsbridge, and I know nobody else thinks it's a good idea, but Daja, I need that license. I need to be sure I can make my way, honestly. I need to be sure I won't be tempted to war-magic. I need to know that if you come back – if any of you come back, next year or the year after or whenever it is – that it won't be because you're obligated to me.
What makes you think we don't want to come back?
Please. Tris made her exasperation abundantly clear. You've been dropping hints since you left, practically. And Sandry's been badgering Briar to go, anytime she thinks I'm not listening. She'll have to come back, I suppose, to help the duke. And Briar will come back – for his garden, if nothing else. But... Tris shook her head, braids quivering with contained energy. There's so much I don't know yet.
There is, Daja agreed. Isn't it wonderful?
Tris blinked. What are you going to do? she asked.
Daja shrugged, forgoing words to let images spill across their magical connection instead: the forge at Gold Ridge, and heaps of magic-saturated copper waiting to be worked. A Trader ship, brass rails glittering in the sun. Polyam's wagon, the rest of Third Caravan Idarun winding ahead. The shining white towers of Lightsbridge University, as Niko had described them long ago. Daja's mare, and a lone packhorse, setting off in an undefined direction. There were so many possibilities, all clustered about, waiting for her to choose.
I don't know, she said. I have absolutely no idea.
Daja stepped out of the forge, into the shining afternoon sun. The wind caressed her cheek, and she turned her face into it, grinning. Tris, we have the whole world before us. We could do anything.