princess_of_ida | IC Inbox

[ Her stomach drops with dread. ]

... It was... it was not one of us - me? Was it? That caused it?

Nope. None of you.

[Her eyes involuntarily flickered briefly over to the stag painting in the wall.]

Then I just started drinking afterward.

[ Her eyes track, looking over her shoulder - bit quite understanding what that meant, to look back. ]

Tell me how I can help?

I don't think anything can help this. Not even the booze - I know this. [Nothing except Alina.] I just don't want to feel anything.

[And yet, she still felt albeit numbed because she can't get drunk enough without killing herself.]

You're home. That's what matters. [She took another bite of stew before setting it down.] Do you really want that bead?

... At least we have that in common. If I could cut every feel from my heart, I would.

[ Her laughter is not hers, it's dry, empty and flat, there is no mirth in it. ]

I do. [ She breathes out slowly. ] If something were to happen again... someone knowing where I am... it could have... it could have changed something.

[Ianthe was silent for a moment, trying to wrangle her thoughts through the slippery fog of her mind.]

I don't feel the... need to be able to track you. I can't say I understand how you feel, though I have my Void experience. But if it's fear of what may happen in the future that drives you to want that bead...

Don't borrow tomorrow's grief.

[ It was sensible advice, as far as it went. ]

... Maybe just for a little while then, so I know you're with me, when I feel...

[ Alone, afraid, so hateful of herself. ]

Alright. Whatever you need.

[Leaning back against the headboard, Ianthe lifted an arm, offering for Gilia to be held. She washed to hold her.]

Whatever you need to talk about, I'll listen. I'm with you now.

[ She braids the bead back in with quick fingers, securely tucking it away.

About to move towards her, but pauses just before she does. Instead opting to lean over the side of her bed, to go to her basket, for the parcel stacked on top. ]

I brought you something... I meant to give it to you before.... well, before... everything. We give gifts to celebrate growing older at mid-winter. So I made you something.

[It was perhaps for the best that Ianthe was still drunk. The sleep and food had forced her to recover enough that wasn't drunk enough (in her opinion) as the whispering voice of her sister slipped into her mind and the pain she didn't want to feel was gnawing at the base of her brain. But she wasn't sober, so she didn't catch the reality of Gilia's wording, that she was essentially talking about a birthday gift.]

For me? Okay.

[Don't tell her it's a birthday gift.]

Perhaps it will not be as wonderful as the Third House's finest seamstresses but...

[ She puts the item that was wrapped up in simple plain brown paper, in front of Ianthe as she scooted up the bed. Settling in beside her timidly for her current state.

When she opens it, there is a coat in there, as promised, to warm her against the worst of the winter nights and days ( if a little late now - thanks for nothing, flooding that made it impossible to work). A deep grey, and set against, in gold and purple silk threads that faintly shimmered is a pattern of bones and purple gem beads in the skulls, woven between folk patterns. ]

This is beautiful, Lia.

[Her fingers ran over the embroidery and the beading, taking in the quality. She couldn't currently think enough to compare it to anything from home, but was in awe. It was soft and looked warm and...]

Let me try it on.

[Getting out of bed, Ianthe stood up... and promptly ate shit as her head swam. The next moment she was a heap on the floor, clutching the coat to her. This was fine.]

Ianth-!

[ Thud, down she goes.

Gilia scrambles up, going to her.

She scoops her up, getting her hand under her knees and shoulders to lift her, her tentacles emerging briefly to lift her up. Perhaps not as graceful as Ianthe might have done it herself, but enough to get her back into that bed and not a second longer on the floor than she could help. ]

My love, you are still not well yet.

[But the floor was so nice. Ianthe had been spending a lot of her free time there.]

Just... need a drink. I'll be OK then.

[But back on the bed, Ianthe wrapped her arms and one leg about Gilia, murmuring a single word.] Mine.

[ Exhausted as she is, she huffs a bemused little puff of not quite laughter. ]

Decided it, have you?

Mhmm. Share you another day. Today you're mine. Only mine.

[Good luck peeling her off... which wouldn't be nearly as hard as it could be.]

Are you okay?

I can do that.

[ She cannot help but to kiss the top of her head with a smile, her love, her dear love. ]

I am here, now, that is all that matters.

[ 'okay' could be some other day, because it certain wasn't today, or yesterday, and likely not tomorrow. ]

[Ianthe nuzzled in, kissing whatever part of Gilia was right in front of her face.]

It's been so lonely here. Without you, without her. So lonely. Thank you for coming home.

[Another kiss, softer.]

Whenever you want or need to talk about what happened to you, I'm here. No judgement. Just love.

Mayhap, in time. It is all... all too...

[ New and festering, like a sickness that takes root in her lungs and wheezes black rot into every breathe.

She holds into that small quiet kiss, letting it soothe her as best anything could. ]

I will be well, not to see you lonely. But who has not come, shall I fetch her for you?

Doesn't matter. She doesn't want me anymore.

[Muttered words, barely audible.]

You be as you need to be. Don't be something you're not for me. Feel what you feel. It's okay to feel it. I'm not going anywhere.

[ That, that she will store it for later, when Ianthe's head is clear enough to answer it somewhat sensibly. ]

Neither am I, I promise. I am right here for you.

[ She settles her chin on top of Ianthe's head, resting gently, talking into the wall, at the empty space somehow, of how everything feels. ]

But... I do not know what I am to feel, at the moment. It is like the world has gone empty, and me with it.

Then just close your eyes and listen to the sea. It's always there, even if its distant.

[Ianthe's muddled thoughts could only think of how it had once felt to travel by shuttle, to be completely cut off from thanergy, unable to draw upon it and use necromancy. It was such a crutch for adepts as they used it to bolster everything about them, using it automatically to aid in even the most basic of tasks. To not have that, to feel abandoned by everything she knew, had been hard.

Some adepts went so far as to sit on a patch of dirt during short trips, so they could soak up the thanergy stored within. Ianthe never did that; she just suffered and took from her cavalier when it got bad.

And maybe that was the impetus that drove Ianthe to transfer some of her energy into Gilia, seeping it sloppily into her body through their contact instead of with the precision her necromancy was known for. To fill Gilia with something so she wouldn't feel empty. It had no form, no shape, no destination other than wherever it was needed, a nebulous unfocused giving.]

[ There is a warmth to being near Ianthe's gifts, of something cloying, perhaps, like holy places, rich with power that seeps into her bones and turns her a lazy languid. Like having warm wine next to fire place in winter.

This was a stronger drink, tonight, unasked for, but no less welcome. It eases her limbs out, relaxing into her embrace. It was not the song of the Slender, not the sea's rhythmic push pull.

But it was something, something so sorely needed, nonetheless. She looped her arms tightly around Ianthe's shoulders and kissed the top of her head, before laying her cheek there. ]

I love you dearly, Ianthe. I will never say it enough.

[The energy didn't falter though it wasn't steady, unintentionally ebbing and flowing. She had a ceaseless amount and this was but a drop in the bucket.]

Love you, Lia.

[Figured it would take being drunk for her to let that escape containment. And look, she didn't explode.]

[ The warmth goes so much deeper, this time, more than her thalergy. Bone deep would never be a more apt metaphor.

But Ianthe was ever prideful, she did not press it, drive it further, even as she felt light, it could carry her for a dozen days and nights, a lifetime in fact. ]

Does your gift pass Third House inspection? Is it beautiful enough for my vain butterfly?

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