the_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

The flat is in chaos, covered in partially packed boxes and unorganized stacks of papers and books. Nothing more is being done with them today, however. Alanna is busy stuffing clothes and a few select books into saddle bags. Adam took the triplets to Myles earlier, and is scheduled to meet her at the ruins with the horses and supplies. She's running late.

Dressed for riding in serviceable light leather and linen, Alanna twists her bright hair into a knot at the base of her neck and pulls a cap over it. Puff watches her from the top of the couch.

The door is propped open with a stack of spell books she's already memorized.

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Thom ducks through the door, nearly tripping over the stack of spell books.

"Still hate packing?" he asks, his soft voice rather wistful.

Stiffening, Alanna looks over her shoulder. Her face would be unreadable to most, but Thom likely has a clue.

"I can think of more pleasant ways to spend my time."

"It could be worse," he says. "You could be on a boat."

He has a point and she tells him so, moving her pet dragon off a black cloak she had set aside. She shakes it out and hands it to her brother.

"Try this on."

Thom takes it and, smoothly, drapes it over his shoulders.

Then he looks up and asks, "Why?"

Her eye twitches.

"As remote a chance as it might be, you can't be recognized on the way to Olau."

It fits well enough. One hand already making room in a saddle bag, she holds out the other for the cloak.

"You could do an illusion," he suggests.

Thom removes the cloak and hands it over to her. "Or have me do one."

"No," she answers firmly. "You can't do any magic, Thom. We can't run the risk that someone will notice."

And she will likely be too unconscious to work an illusion.

"Adam will have other clothes for you. They might be a bit big."

She frowns, looking him over. Goddess only knows what sort of shape he'll be in.

He tries not to think about that.

"I'll try not to complain about it," says Thom. "Much."

There's a hint of a smile, at that.

"I won't have to hear it, but we don't want Adam to kill you so soon after I return you to the land of the living."

Thom widens his eyes. "But I'm going to be brand-new! Squeaky clean. Surely even Adam wouldn't sink so low."

Alanna snorts.

"I have my doubts about the squeaky clean," she says, giving him a rueful smile. "Don't forget there's a pond nearby, if you want to wash up. But don't delay. Coram is visiting tenants and Adam will have the cart nearby, but I will only feel better when we reach home."

"I don't care what I look or smell like," Thom sniffs. "I am not washing in any pond."

"Suit yourself."

Realizing she's ordering him around and mentioning things they've already discussed, Alanna sighs and abandons the bags. There's no sense in checking them over again.

"I wasn't sure you'd want to see me before I left."

"Why not?"

He grins. "I mean, other than that it's really weird -- for you."

"Weird doesn't even begin to cover it," says Alanna, whose heart has been speeding up at the mere thought of what she's about to do. "I have no frame of reference for what this feels like."

She shrugs.

"Aren't you worried I might mess it all up?"

There's a faint edge to her voice that very much says: if you know what's good for you, say no.

Thom looks taken aback.

After a second, he bites back on a joke -- If you fuck up, just stab me in the neck and try again -- and says, "No. I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you could do it."

He shrugs. "And at this point, if you do mess something up, it'll be because something is wrong with my method. Not you."

As gently as possible, she wraps her fingers around the neck of his shirt and pulls him steadily forward.

"But," she drawls, gaze intense, "there's absolutely nothing wrong with your method, is there?"

Predictably, he squeaks.

"No! It worked perfect the second time. I fixed it!"

"Good," she says, releasing him.

Momentarily at a loss, she clears her throat and blushes faintly.

"Sorry about your shirt. I'm a little on edge."

The collar is stretched out on one side.

"That's OK," says Thom. Only a little resentfully.

"Anyway, I'm not trying to trap you like Roger was me. Or -- not me, necessarily, but whoever was going to come along."

= him.

"I know," is her soft reply, as she makes a futile effort to smooth the wrinkles she made.

It's a nice shirt; he'll want that on Earth.

"Thom-"

She bites her lip.

We all know how Earth is into lace-up silk shirts with loose sleeves. Super into.

Thom looks hard at her for a second; gathers up her smoothing hands and asks, "Yes?"

Well. It's not like Alanna reads Vogue.

"Have you thought about what happens... after?"

Squeezing his hands, she meets his eyes.

"Here?"

He pauses. "I'm not really -- I mean, I won't be here anymore once you've done it.

"But I'm not going to stop being, either. I'm not too worried about it."

"No, not here."

Pulling away, she removes the cap and wipes her forehead.

"You're giving up your Gift to live on Earth. Adam is giving up his powers to live in Tortall. While he's there, at least." She swallows, barely conscious of pacing before him. "Have you considered that when you die, he might be subject to the Black God, and you to heaven or hell?"

Thom looks struck, flinching slightly away from her.

"I hadn't thought -- "

He digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

"Have you talked to anyone else about it?"

"Adam had a similar reaction," she tells him by way of an answer. "But there's a sort of balance to it, isn't there?"

She stops, looks at him.

"Think about it. I had a dream- I would never want you to face what awaits traitors in the Black God's realm, and Adam doesn't deserve an eternity with his father."

"That's all well and true," says Thom. He frowns.

"But what about us?"

"Us?"

Her expression is equally stricken.

"Thom, I-

"I don't know. I don't know that we would see each other anyway."

Slowly, "I suppose not."

He shakes his head.

"We can figure that out later, if we want -- I didn't mean to distract you now."

She laughs uneasily, without humor.

"None of us can know the will of the Gods," she hazards. "I'm not distracted. You know how I get when I have a purpose in mind."

It's been annoying Adam for weeks.

Thom considers. "Obnoxious?"

She makes a face and loftily clarifies, "Single-minded and determined."

"Or just stubborn as a pig."

He giggles.

"Or a mule," she concedes, failing to keep a small smile off her face.

"Well."

Awkward.

"Go on," he says. "Git."

And turns to leave himself.

"Wait," she calls out.

Grabbing first his sleeve, then his waist, she pulls him into a hug.

"I love you," Alanna whispers into his shoulder. "And if I bring you back with two heads, I'll be really, really sorry."

Thom hugs her back, reluctant to let go.

"If you do that, I'll kill myself."

Slow and warm and genuine, for once, he smiles. "I love you, too, Sister. Regardless."

He kisses her; slips away.

Well aware she's running late, Alanna stays still, watching the door, until Puff lands on her shoulder and belches smoke.

She blinks, looking at the dragon out of the corner of her eye and sighing wearily.

"Time to go," she says unnecessarily, gathering her things. "See you at home, Brother-mine."

A quick look around, and she locks the door behind her.

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