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Laudna did not mean to break the stone. Obviously, she did not mean to break it. She would never. Imogen can read minds, she can know for herself. But she doesn’t. Because somehow, it’s still easier, after everything, for her to believe that she shouldn’t trust anyone, than to believe Laudna really does care.
The thought hurts, but tonight, Imogen needs to be a little bitter.
It’s a beautiful windy night. When she was little, Imogen would take her horses out on days like this. She’d ride down the hill by her house, by the creek, and she'd let the horses drink, and she’d sit there. It’s a nice memory, but it just hurts. It sticks out of her chest like a glass shard, because now, she knows that this version of herself, out by the creek, was still lonely.
Not that the current Imogen was feeling much better.
There’s this intrusive thought that keeps pecking at the back of Imogen’s mind. Being exposed to so many unwelcome thoughts so frequently, these little intrusive thoughts usually don’t take Imogen by storm. But still, Imogen sits, and tries not to think about how easy it would be to live alone.
Imogen pictures herself, living somewhere quiet, with horses, and good food, maybe home cooked, and comfortable clothes not made for moving. She imagines herself working, maybe at a bakery, no one thinks gross things at a bakery. Imogen smiles at the thought of a fireplace, it has been so long since she was by herself, warmed up to just a fireplace. She’d get a new book, a nice blanket, and tea. Nice, herbal tea, in her ceramic mug. Laudna always made her tea in this one ceramic mug.
Imogen quietly imagines holding the mug over the edge of the airship and letting it fall. That would be easier. But, there is no joy in the picture, just some lingering sadness. Lingering sadness and a broken mug. She probably wouldn’t be able to do it, anyways.
By the creek, there was this one big stone that Imogen liked to sit on. It jutted out from the landscape like it had always been there, and some part of her wanted to believe it had. Truthfully, though, it was probably part of some mountain once, then, through some force, magic or man, it was split. When she took Laudna to see the creek, they both sat on the rock together.
Maybe, there’s a rock like that one in this fantasy Imogen builds. Maybe, Laudna’s the one sitting there, strange, frightening, and perfect. It just feels too lonely. In her head, Imogen imagines walking up to Laudna, seeing her slightly-too-wide grin, the way her pupils dilate a bit too fast, and Imogen cries. Softly, as to not wake anyone up, but she cries nonetheless.
Wiping her tears away, Imogen remembers that she was the one who asked to be alone right now. She doesn’t want to be alone anymore. More than anything, she wants Laudna to burst through the door and hug her, and make her tea, and to tell her about Patê. She wants Laudna to wrap her bony arms around her waist, and to lean into the cold touch. Laudna would never enter her room uninvited, so this could never happen, Imogen reminds herself. If she wants comfort, she needs to seek it herself.
Imogen imagines Laudna by herself, on that dreadful rock, and she stands up, off her bed. Putting on her shoes, she opens the door to her cabin, and makes her way to the room where she hopes Laudna will already be asleep. However, when she nears Laudna’s cabin, Imogen notices a warm glow coming from the room, and not with the energy of that conversation, Imogen just sits down by the door.
She lets herself graze over Laudna’s mind, not hearing any specific details, just staying in her presence. Usually, this brings Imogen some peace, feeling such a wonderful mind thinking, but today, the thoughts feel sharp. Imogen flinches, and feels Launda react. The thoughts go quiet for a moment, and then the door opens.
Laudna is visibly shaken. She usually is a manicured mess, but right now, she feels scattered. Her hair is pulled back out of her eyes, which are red and bleary, show her fear and embarrassment so plainly, and Imogen can think of nothing but that this is her fault.
Clearly, being the bigger woman, Laudna speaks first. Raw with emotion and willed with exhaustion, she smiles, as if she’s perfectly at ease. “I’m so sorry, Imogen. Is there anything, anything I can do?” her smile falls. “I am so damn sorry, I don’t know what happened, I would never try to hurt you--”
“I know, Laudna,” Imogen whispers.
Laudna stands perfectly still, barely letting a small, “oh” leave her lips, her gaze scattered.
“Can I come in?” Laudna just kind of falters, and shakes her head for a second, and puts an arm out for Imogen, who takes it with all the strength she has left in her. Laudna reciprocates the grip with equal ferocity.
As Imogen enters the room, following Laudna’s lead, she sees the sources of the light, three small, grayish-blue glowing orbs, dangling, and circling the room. True to name, the light cast by the orbs dances, letting light onto the disarray of Laudna’s cabin. Books that Laudna packed herself, strewn about the room, clothes scattered across what little furniture there was.
Laudna says, quietly, “Sorry for the mess, I didn’t know you’d be over.” Still holding onto her hand with all that she has, Imogen just says, “My room is the same,” which isn’t quite true, but it makes Laudna smile.
“Oh, be quiet,” she says. “You’re always the one telling me to clean up.” She cracks a slight smile at this, and that was all it took to break Imogen.
Tears rolling down her face, again, Imogen sinks onto the bed, and Laudna joins her. Not crying, not really saying much, just whispering that it’ll be okay, and that she’s sorry.
Laudna wraps her long bony arms around Imogen, just stretching a little farther than they should. Imogen, in turn, just cries. She cries, and she holds onto Laudna, until she can’t cry anymore.
Then, they sleep. They sleep for hours, long enough for Chetney to complain, and Orym to get a bit more worried than he should have been. After seeing Imogen’s room empty, and seeing a few lingering glows of purple and blue coming from Laudna’s room, he figured it was better to give some space.
When Imogen does finally wake up, she does so to the smell of chamomile tea, and a terrifying woman she loves more than anything getting dressed for the day. Said terrifying woman turns at her, giving a genuine smile, and says, “good morning, Imogen,” in a haunting sing-song voice, that echoes in her mind over, and over, and over again.
Still wearing off of her sleep, Imogen just grins, sits up, and pulls Laudna back into the bed with her. She places a kiss on Laudna’s scary little smile, whispering, “It is a good morning, isn’t it.”