[It was said half under her breath and the only thing she got out before Gilia silenced her with that kiss. Like pressing a brand to her lips so she would feel it every time she wet then with her tongue.
As Ianthe listened, some of the woman she was underneath all the composure, and elegance, and even the necromantic brilliance, peaked through. The vulture, the scavenger, the viper that could and wound lie in wait, and even the monster this place had pulled from her were evident in her currently lilac eyes.]
I will have what I want, one way or another. It is not in her best interests to make an enemy out of me. She is not stupid. She has to know the very few ways to turn me against her.
[ She cards her hand back from her temples, cupping Ianthe's face between her eyes and sees that beast, that calculating daughter of noble houses, and does not flinch. Does not look away from her blood and her pain, and all suffering inflicted and taken.
Rather that she meets it, as what she is - the heir of an ancient house, so pure in her faith that her Holy-Father gave vision, the daughter, sister, niece and Queen of her own that could destroy cities and knew all that was beneath her, raised to power and duty from the moment she first drew breath. ]
You are Prince Ianthe Naberius, daughter of the Third House, Lyctor and Necromancer unparelled, Saint of Awe. Do not let her forget it, or cheaply make you her hound, and if she does, may she regret it. I bid that to you, as your wife.
[She was the first in ten thousand years to chive lyctorhood, and she did it without the study notes, having reverse engineered the Eightfold Word megatheorem through various trials. If Zlatka went back on her word, Ianthe would just have to do it the long (really long) way. She did believe the Duchess would teach her, if only because Zlatka wanted to leave this fucking place as much a the rest of them, but she knew what John was doing, what he did when the lyctors of old betrayed him and how he controlled Kiriona. Best remember that applied to Zlatka as well. Ianthe would have Resurrection.]
I am a patient hunter, my love, but I am still a hunter. Though I may seem to be at her beck and call, I am just biding my time. I'm always biding my time. I won't forget who I am, though it may look like I have. I remember.
[Because shame was a privilege. Ianthe leaned in to kiss Gilia. Kiss her wife like she should have when she awoke.]
[ There she was, there was her wife. Fearsome and worthy of all she had worked for, not begging for scraps from a petty lord that dangled what she wanted on a string.
She melted below her, her arms circling her, kisses her full and hard and unforgiving to it. She loves her, and she will hold it her to this, for better or worse, with no respite. The tears slip, an expected relief that it hurt she had to wake to this mess and fight for this from the minute she opened her eyes to this horrible thing that has happened.
But she loved her, and for that, she hung on with both hands. ]
[Ianthe kissed her and kissed her and kissed her. With love and longing, conveying her fear and loneliness, and everything that had been in those moments she left messages to Gilia while she recovered.
She kissed away the tears and pressed her lips lovingly to the new scar. Ianthe could remove it, but she liked scars. It didn't make Gilia any less beautiful, but if her wife ever asked, she would see to it.]
[ Her fingers curled into her hair, cupping the back of her head to keep her warm and close, kind and near.
At least until her strength began to fail her again, and she had to fall back into the pillows again with yet another coughing fit. Exhausted from her short stint sitting up right. ]
I am sorry, much seems to be beyond me, at present.
[ Spirits it felt so good to be wrapped up in her arms again, her whole body going lax, where she felt safe and supported. Had her close at hand, her body becoming still from her coughing. ]
Just make sure you do not exhaust yourself as well, my love.
If I tire, I'll just sleep. I... haven't been doing that. Much.
[If at all. She almost said she was a bottomless well but Gilia knew that she had limits. They were hard to get to, but they were there. Nevermind that she would let herself go back to that ugly hag if it helped heal Gilia.]
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[It was said half under her breath and the only thing she got out before Gilia silenced her with that kiss. Like pressing a brand to her lips so she would feel it every time she wet then with her tongue.
As Ianthe listened, some of the woman she was underneath all the composure, and elegance, and even the necromantic brilliance, peaked through. The vulture, the scavenger, the viper that could and wound lie in wait, and even the monster this place had pulled from her were evident in her currently lilac eyes.]
I will have what I want, one way or another. It is not in her best interests to make an enemy out of me. She is not stupid. She has to know the very few ways to turn me against her.
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Rather that she meets it, as what she is - the heir of an ancient house, so pure in her faith that her Holy-Father gave vision, the daughter, sister, niece and Queen of her own that could destroy cities and knew all that was beneath her, raised to power and duty from the moment she first drew breath. ]
You are Prince Ianthe Naberius, daughter of the Third House, Lyctor and Necromancer unparelled, Saint of Awe. Do not let her forget it, or cheaply make you her hound, and if she does, may she regret it. I bid that to you, as your wife.
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I am a patient hunter, my love, but I am still a hunter. Though I may seem to be at her beck and call, I am just biding my time. I'm always biding my time. I won't forget who I am, though it may look like I have. I remember.
[Because shame was a privilege. Ianthe leaned in to kiss Gilia. Kiss her wife like she should have when she awoke.]
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She melted below her, her arms circling her, kisses her full and hard and unforgiving to it. She loves her, and she will hold it her to this, for better or worse, with no respite. The tears slip, an expected relief that it hurt she had to wake to this mess and fight for this from the minute she opened her eyes to this horrible thing that has happened.
But she loved her, and for that, she hung on with both hands. ]
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She kissed away the tears and pressed her lips lovingly to the new scar. Ianthe could remove it, but she liked scars. It didn't make Gilia any less beautiful, but if her wife ever asked, she would see to it.]
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At least until her strength began to fail her again, and she had to fall back into the pillows again with yet another coughing fit. Exhausted from her short stint sitting up right. ]
I am sorry, much seems to be beyond me, at present.
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[Ianthe shifted to slip her bone arm underneath Gilia and lay on her side, cradling her wife.]
Rest, Lia. I'll keep feeding you thalergy in a slow steady stream. I have plenty. I'll stay as long as you want me.
[A phrase with two meanings.]
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Just make sure you do not exhaust yourself as well, my love.
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[If at all. She almost said she was a bottomless well but Gilia knew that she had limits. They were hard to get to, but they were there. Nevermind that she would let herself go back to that ugly hag if it helped heal Gilia.]
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Stay right here, that is all I desire.
[ But the sincerity of her intention is ruined somewhat, by the yawn she makes a second late, exhausted and wide. ]
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Alright. I got you. [She snuggled down, pressed a kiss to Gilia.] And thanks... for still loving me.
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[ She whispered, so close to the edge of sleep, that only a minute later, she is gone to it again. ]