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After two years, it hadn’t been uncommon for Imogen put her head down, to curtain her hair down across her face, avoid peoples eyes, only to realise after a few minutes of discomfort that she was hiding for Laudna’s traumas and not her own. After such a long time of dancing to Laudna’s winding lullaby, with her thoughts and fears and motives drifting freely along with the notes, Imogen became susceptible to the blurring of the well-worn line between them.
She wasn’t alone in it; Laudna cringed at the sight of a city on the horizon, often beat her lavender partner to comments about places sounding far too crowded or loud when they discussed travelling onwards. They weren’t her fears- Laudna relished a crowd. The more souls the better, the more souls, the more colours, the more shapes and sizes. And just like that she was barely the most interesting thing to gawk at. It was those sparse, silent villages, population 15, all of whom would find a gnome exotic- those were the places the rooted anxiety in Laudna’s rib cage.
So it made for some strange feelings, Imogen’s heart soaring while Laudna’s plummeted, Laudna’s spirits calming while Imogen’s were assaulted from all sides, all while the two were tied at the mind, polar ends of a magnet stemming from the same centre, seeing both sides of a coin at the same time.
They got used to it. In the beginning, they had always tripped over one another trying to put each other first, Laudna insisting they stop at this village where it was quiet for Imogen’s head while Imogen linked their elbows and dragged her to the city where it was crowded for Laudna’s face.
Soon enough they found a solution that fixed both problems at once, salvation in the form of the trees, a camp fire, a hammock in the open mouth of a lean-to, and a few weak magic wards to wake them in the event of uninvited guests. Imogen’s silence, Laudna’s solace. Not wanting to draw any unwanted attention, they almost never spoke aloud once camp was established, lulling comfortably into their shared connection to tell one another stories, ask questions, confess secrets. At the end of the evening Imogen would collapse back into the hammock and hold her arm out while she swung side to side with the momentum of her landing, watching Laudna kick their little fire out through heavy lidded eyes. No fire meant total darkness, and they could get away with sleeping without a watch. Laudna woke at every breeze and bird and Imogen felt safe enough that between that and the small magic traps, no one would get to them.
Laudna would come and lay herself down alongside Imogen with their warm blanket and Imogen’s arm would settle around her back over the top to keep it in place. It was comfortable and intimate enough for Imogen to cherish every second, the blessing of being far from anyone’s thoughts but Laudna’s, mixed with the butterflies of falling asleep in someone’s arms, unfamiliar as that was for Imogen. Laudna leaned up and kissed her forehead to say goodnight.
By the time they found themselves in Jrusar needing to appear normal, their extensive time alone had taken their knack for mutuality and engineered it into sharing one another’s psyches down to the finest lines, and it was a shock to have them ripped back apart. It was a shock to speak so much- Imogen’s throat had gotten sore by midday most days- and the sudden isolation within their own respective minds and the emptiness that surrounded each laugh without the emotion carrying with the sound pulled at Imogen’s heart.
It took a week for her to tentatively ask Laudna if she was finding it as difficult as she was. They were just about settled in Zhudanna’s little spare room. Imogen was sitting in her small clothes on their shared bed, hair still damp from their trip to the baths, staring wistfully at their curled up hammock packed neatly away in the corner. Laudna was standing in front of the fire, slowly combing her own damp hair through. She looked over her shoulder in surprise, then appraisal.
“It’s certainly not been easy but the academy will be worth it for you, I hope?” It was a real question, suddenly steeped in a few more layers of worry.
“Oh don’t get me wrong, I’m sure there’ll be somethin’ in there that can help, and I’m glad we’re here, just… can’t help but miss how it was. Is that bad? I don’t mean it t’be, I swear.”
Laudna put her comb on the mantlepiece, turned, noticed Imogen’s hair drying unbrushed, and picked it back up again. “I don’t think it’s bad, darling. It was rather an adjustment,” she said, sitting with one knee on the bed and her foot tucked under her. She began to comb through the lilac curls methodically. “Just because we’re back in the city doesn’t mean we have to change everything, if you don’t want to.”
Imogen’s eyes were closed, tension leaving her shoulders a little more with each careful graze of the combs teeth over her scalp and through the ends that tugged as they separated.
“You aren’t glad for the privacy?”
“You never felt invasive, there is no privacy from you for me, Imogen, just deprivation.”
Imogen hummed, smiled at the drama that she knew was sincere. It was hard to think past Laudna playing with her hair and even now, even while talking about it, it took her a second to realise that Laudna couldn’t feel it, that how she felt was only something that happened to her. She opened her eyes just barely enough to vignette the mirror across the room from them and watch at Laudna behind her. She opened her mind out towards her.
The comb faltered, and then Laudna’s smile grew infectious.
“I would hate t’deprive you.”
The relief of feeling Laudna’s joy in response rather than simply hearing her words was unparalleled, and Imogen tilted her own happiness into the mix and leaned backwards into Laudna’s arms, content to just exist swimming in the music. Laudna pulled her back further still until they hit the pillows and the sorceress twisted in her arms until she was laying half on top of her, left hand reached up to tangle loosely in Laudna’s almost dry hair. Laudna kissed her forehead.
They didn’t speak aloud for the rest of the night, Imogen’s face buried against the crook of Laudna’s neck, Zhudanna’s borrowed covers put aside in favour of their hammock blanket. Mentally, they ambled between peaceful, sleepy coexistence and figuring out what their new normal was.
Their connection, they decided, was theirs, and no one else needed to know about it as of right now, nor did it make sense to try and crush it just because of some conservatory and some funny looks. Damn the consequences, folk thought they were odd anyway. They could always make an effort to play normal in company that mattered.
Laudna’s lips pressed to her forehead again and stayed there, and Imogen fell asleep so deeply at ease that she didn’t notice half of it wasn't hers.