Chapter Text
Hours later, Shadowheart finds Lae’zel in her room. The githyanki faces away from the door, engrossed with writing. Shadowheart takes a moment to watch the woman. For the first time since they were reunited, Lae’zel looked calm. The act of writing seems to hypnotize her out of her typical harsh nature. It gets Shadowheart wondering, since when does Lae’zel write? What is she writing? Is it a letter to someone?
She makes it a step into the room, before Lae’zel turns to face her.
“Your senses are still sharp I see.” Shadowheart says with a smile.
“Sharper probably, Githyanki are even more treacherous enemies than what we battled in Faerun.”
Always superior, even when her people are the enemy. Behind that arrogance, she can see something more however. She remembers how much of a pain the githyanki adversaries they fought were, and could not imagine fighting only them for five years.
Lae’zel interrupts her thoughts, “I see you are here for that talk.” She starts, putting the ball in Shadowheart’s court.
Before she begins, however, she asks a question. “What are you writing”
Lae’zel looks over her shoulder at the letter with apprehension, “A letter. This doesn’t seem like the talk you promised.”
Shadowheart smiles, buttering Lae’zel up to get an answer “Who to?”
“No one. Now you’re just avoiding the topic”
With a pointed look, Shadowheart asks again, “Lae’zel, who to?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Well if it is to your ‘betrothed’ , I would like to know now if I am being played.”
Lae’zel stares at her in disbelief, “If anyone, I would be ‘betrothed’ to you! Is that really what you think?”
“Then who is it to!” Shadowheart asks again, not daring to answer Lae’zel’s question.
It takes a moment, but remembers their old games of tricks and ire. “Who do you think?” Lae’zel says with a smirk. She forgot about how hot Shadowheart makes her blood boil.
Shadowheart glares, understanding the time worn game. “Read it to me.”
“Why?”
“It's a letter, so read my mail to me.”
“No one said it would be sent to you.”
“And why not?”
Lae’zel shrugs, “It’s not like I have sent the others.”
“Others?” She asks, stepping closer.
“You think I have spent five and a half years away from you, and the first day I see you again is when I write my first letter. Chk, your time building seems to have knocked brain cells loose from your skull.”
As Lae’zel speaks, Shadowheart creeps forward, closer to the githyanki and the writing desk.
“Then where are they?”
“They’re gone”, Lae’zel says, quickly looking under her cot. “You can’t really have correspondence during war. Anything that can be used against you, will be.”
Shadowheart instantly clocks it. Lae’zel had never been the most deceptive person. She quickly files that information away, promising herself that she would find those letters, just as soon as they were done with this ‘talk’.
By this point, she is right on top of the warrior, and while she tries to not seem like she is lying, Shadowheart takes the opportunity to snag the letter from the desk.
“Got it!” She half screams, half giggles. In their verbal tumble, Shadowheart forgets that she is supposed to be mad. Instead all of her focus is on the mystery of this letter.
“Tsk'va! This is my letter, give it back!” Lae’zel says, reaching for the paper.
Shadowheart leaps away, with the paper in hand, dashing towards the door. In a fit of adrenaline, Lae’zel bursts forward, pushing herself towards the bed. She just barely intercepts the cleric, and pulls them both down into the cot. Shadowheart lands splayed onto the mattress, with Lae’zel on top of her.
“This” Lae’zel breathes, “Is NOT where I thought this talk would be going.”
Shadowheart giggles, knowing that despite being trapped, that she was in fact victorious. She reaches around Lae’zel, pulling her into a hug before pouting.
“Please read it to me?”
With those eyes, Lae’zel melts. She rolls her eyes and scowls, putting on a show of disdain, that they both know is false, before reaching for the letter. Shadowheart gives her a pointed look, implying that she is trusting Lae’zel to do as she asks, before relinquishing the paper.
“My dearest Shadowheart.” She begins.
“I have found that words have been failing me today, but I do not know any other way to explain my dilemma to you. I am plagued with the thought that I am not worthy for your love, and have shamed myself enough to let that fear dictate my life. I told you once how you showed me the colors of the world, and for the past years, that technicolor sun has gone cold. I was back to live for the red of blood and black of death, but now knew of the other colors. The pink of blush and the green of life. It was like seeing color and then willfully making myself to be colored blind.” She looks up for a second, looking directly at Shadowheart. The cleric looks at her with rapt attention, not daring to speak and break the spell Lae’zel weaves. Then she looks back down at the paper. “I say this, because I’m afraid that you will not want this vision impaired version of me. That I have fought so hard, to the point of un-recognition. I didn’t find you first because of that fear…. I didn’t get to the end of the writing the letter, there’s more but I don’t have the words to say it.”
Any fear Lae’zel had about speaking with Shadowheart melts when the cleric pulls her back on top of her, and kisses her. Shadowheart blushes into the kiss, now realizing that it was not disdain for her that kept her away, but disdain for herself.
Pulling back, Shadowheart whispers, “Why didn’t you say anything? I have been so worried that you moved on from me, from us.”
Lae’zel’s eyes narrow, disapproving of own actions, “I have never known fear such as this. You have taken the whole of me, and I can not settle for only a piece of you. Five years is a long time, that piece that loved me could have wilted and died like an unattended plant.”
“You wouldn’t know that until you talked to me, until you returned to me.”
“Chk, it was foolish of me.” Lae’zel says, looking away from her lover. Nodding to herself in frustration she eventually asks, “Forgive me?”
Shadowheart responds with a kiss on the githyanki’s nose. “Let me read those other letters, and you have yourself a deal.”
In their proper reunion, they do not see Karlach and Wyll outside the door, waiting to talk to them. With one look at the couple, they have a silent agreement: they can discuss their battle plans at a later time.