Chapter Text
I.
The road in this stretch is mostly empty; fields and plantations, trees, and the occasional roadside building whizzing past. Wind whips her hair through the open car window, and Imogen takes a hand from the driving wheel to brush it off her eyes; soft folk from the radio fills the background.
She looks to her side to find Laudna, and, where she had been sleeping soundly until just before, now she’s looking out the window, wakeful and with a brightness to her eyes, the midday sunlight framing the lines of her features.
“Hi,” Imogen says, softly, splitting her attention between driving and her.
Laudna turns to her with a content expression. “Hi,” she responds, her voice still slightly husky. “I might have dozed off a little. Sorry.”
“S’okay, you looked like you needed it.” Imogen flashes her a smile.
Laudna stretches awkwardly within the confines of their small, old sedan, letting out a small groan. “Do you want me to drive?”
“I can go until the next stop.” Imogen stifles a yawn.
“Do you need a massage to stay awake?” Laudna asks, playfulness tingeing her voice.
“Tempting, but I’ll be alright for now,” Imogen responds in the same tone. She adds as an afterthought “Could use a snack though.”
Laudna searches through the glove compartment in vain. “Tsk. We’re all out.”
“Tragedy. I’ll stop at the next gas station.” Her implanted chip quickly comes to life, displaying on the HUD in her irises a route to the nearest one, following the road and less than a couple miles out.
It’s not long until they spot it: partially rundown, sun bleached signs, and milling with trucks and people. Imogen leaves the car with Laudna to refuel while she enters the convenience store. It’s a simple, quaint place, without much variety, but hunting for snacks she quickly finds a good mix of sweet and salty treats.
The cashier is a jovial old lady, who greets her cheerfully with a drawl to her accent that reminds her of her hometown (a shiver). Imogen’s implant activates as she approaches, displaying in flickering text the woman’s name as well as some basic info and social stats. They make short small talk and she pays for the items from her and Laudna’s shared funds—what they saved up from odd jobs done on the road and their brief stays in towns all over.
The door closes behind her, the electronic bell over it ringing sadly, out of tune. She does a quick scan, and spots their car parked off the exit back into the road; Laudna is nearby, and talking to her are two strangers: one taller with a faun-like silhouette. Worried they might be giving her a hard time, Imogen closes the distance briskly. As she nears, Laudna catches her over the shoulder of the shorter one—they have their back to Imogen, and their green skin and rocky purple hair stand out, as well as the phrase ‘just don’t’ patched on the back of their well-loved battle vest—and waves her over with a grin.
As soon as she gets within earshot Laudna says to the two proudly “this is her,” then turns. “Imogen, these nice folk were asking for a ride and I offered—”
They face her, and Imogen barely registers Laudna’s words or the curious stare of the friendly-looking horned woman because as soon as the other locks eyes with her, her chip goes off, sending a clear signal into her brain and coloring the interface beside his head with warnings identifying him as her Pair.
They stare at each other for what feels like too long; Imogen files the details of the face of the one who, according to the most precise system on the planet, is fated to be her life partner. She expects fireworks, or perhaps a musical crescendo, or at the very least some butterflies in her stomach. She gets none of it; just a sense of unease, and a knot of nervousness deep in her belly, accompanied by the barely controllable urge to run away.
Imogen finally speaks up, feeling like she’s watching through another’s eyes, and the best she comes up with is a deadpan “I only bought snacks for two.”
They laugh awkwardly, broken out of the moment, and pat the pocket of their jacket. “I brought my own, and so did Fearne here,” they say, gesturing to their companion. Their voice is rough, deep, but not quite harsh, just forceful.
“Hi,” Fearne greets with a singsong stretching of the word, though Imogen can’t help but feel like those deeply striking eyes are reading her carefully; her implant IDs her, with some glitching, displaying a bare minimum amount of information.
“Hi...”
“You know Ashton?” Fearne asks, apparently eagle-eyed and having noticed their reactions to each other.
“No, I—”
And “No, no, we just met—” Ashton adds simultaneously.
Laudna seems to not catch on or ignores the awkwardness. “Well good, since we’re doing introductions, I’m Laudna,” she says, in the cordial, cheery way she’s prone to.
Ashton seems entirely too happy about the diversion, and turns to her a bit too fast. “Nice to meet you,” he says, as if he had trained the words extensively.
“Yeah, thanks again for offering the ride,” Fearne adds, taking Laudna’s hand in greeting, lingering for a second too long with her touch.
“Where—” Imogen begins, trying to keep her cool. “Where are you traveling to?”
“The same direction you guys are,” Ashton supplies, simply.
“No destination?”
“Nope.”
Imogen exchanges a look with Laudna. Sounds suspiciously vague , she speaks into her mind privately, doing her best to keep her swirl of emotions and confusion in check so it doesn’t slip through the connection.
Laudna gives her the barest hint of an eye-roll. They’re fine, I can tell, they’re just drifters .
Imogen finds the two staring at them with raised eyebrows. She clears her throat quickly. “Ahem. Alright, since Laudna offered...”
“Pile in!” Laudna says, opening the back door of their beat-up old reliable and ushering them in with all the panache of a limo driver. Imogen steps in to take the stuff they had stashed in the back to the trunk so they have where to sit comfortably—a couple bags with day-to-day affairs and a cardboard box with a collection of knick-knacks (trash to some, but Laudna sees something in these items, and Imogen doesn’t have the heart to stop her when she excitedly adds the latest addition to her ever-growing collection).
Fearne lets out an “ouch” and fishes from under her a bird skull, miraculously unbroken, which Laudna quickly plucks from her hand.
“Oh! There it is,” Laudna displays the avian remains proudly on her palms and explains: “It’s for a project I’m working on. Or a re-project, hah!” She doesn’t seem to think elaboration is required and stashes it on her box, slamming the trunk closed.
Ashton accompanies the object with their eyes partly narrowed for a moment, but just shrugs and gets in beside Fearne—without giving Laudna shit or getting creeped out and bolting, refreshingly (one point for the strange hitchhikers, Imogen reluctantly cedes).
The thing about their nomadic lifestyle is that it brings with it the danger and the wonders of the unknown and uncertain; it’s skipping town before the angry locals decide to act upon their threats, yes, but it’s also meeting the strangest, most interesting people and being forever changed by their brief yet lasting brush of shoulders. So she learned to appreciate the chaotic nature of their travels, embrace it, even as she remains cautious just the same. Groups are still trouble for them, especially with her mind’s inability to not stick itself into other people’s business and the tendency of them to fear Laudna, but one or two people they can deal with. It’s what leads her to not protest when Laudna latches onto someone new, letting her and her surprising attunement to the intentions of strangers lead when it comes to these things, simply keeping an eye out and protecting them from those who might get close enough to hurt her.
Admittedly, she’s also dying of curiosity over this Ashton person and their friend. If they were tagged as her Pair, there must be something to them, right? She has to find out. Yes, her current feelings are much more manageable if she attributes them to curiosity. So she slams the door of the passenger seat closed and locks herself in a confined space with two strangers, hoping to everything the fates are right, and suppressing the nasty little voice in the back of her consciousness.
—
The awkward quiet doesn’t last long. No, not with Laudna behind the wheel. She speeds through the road, driving with abandon and yet Imogen never feels unsafe, trusting her singular ability to bob and weave through the passing cars and trucks without ever putting them through any close calls. Their passengers pretend to be unaffected but she can see in a glance how they grip the seat and the doors for support, knuckles tense even as they respond calmly to Laudna’s barrage of interrogations pertaining to the every detail of their circumstances. Fearne seems more willing to entertain the questions, answering in a happy tone—interrupted momentarily by a filthy curse whispered harshly when Laudna makes a particularly sharp maneuver, then back to it as if nothing happened. Ashton, meanwhile, appears content in sidetracking and brushing off questions with the masterful precision of one used to doing it like breathing.
“And where are you originally from?” Laudna asks them, loud enough to be heard over her eclectic road trip mix playing on the radio, maintaining eye contact through the mirror for what is probably a bit longer than what would be considered safe while driving.
Fearne looks to Ashton, as if whatever they said was an entertaining game she gets to watch.
He replies with a half-shrug and a smack of the tongue, then: “Somewhere I wanted to leave as soon as possible,” he says with an unaffected tone.
Laudna hums as if barely accepting the answer, but she apparently learned quickly when she wouldn’t get further elaboration from them, and doesn’t press the issue.
Fearne steps in, providing her own answer as a way to fill the air. While she explains in surprising detail and yet completely superficially her childhood in 'a distant place', Imogen focuses on reading Ashton. It's hard not to find her attention drawn to them. She wants to know how the one her implant designed as her Pair works. She wants to ask them questions and for them to answer. Well, she wants to take them up by the scruff and shake them until answers fall out at least. She catches their eyes on the rear view mirror a couple times, and they awkwardly divert them, both unable or unwilling to communicate directly, even through simple eye contact.
Laudna jumps into an extended telling of the city she grew up in and its features; she appears open enough, more than willing to share her past and let everyone inside as if it's no big deal, but Imogen knows better; she knows the gaps in the truth she's telling, the small omissions and large blanks that would be filled by the kind of thing one does not confide to strangers, even someone as open and transparent as Laudna.