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Whitestone. How ironic that she was back here after what transpired in Issylra. Yes, how ironic it was that the last time she was in this town it happened without her say.
Because she had been dead, how ironic.
How ironic indeed, that Delilah had weaved herself back into her mind in that same way, when she was most vulnerable and out of control.
Control, something she so desperately wanted and tried to unavailingly grasp onto whenever she had access to it. Laudna didn't have control when she was young Matilda, sitting on a rich and full dinner table, her only sin being that she looked similar to someone that had never crossed her path before. A warning, just something to put up on a tree to scare people away. Laudna briefly thought she had control when she killed Bor'dor, his life force filling her chest with an exhilarating surge of power and the dull thud of a heart beat that wasn't hers. After fleeing from Whitestone, she felt like she was swimming against the current, the waves crashing onto her back and swallowing her into it's depths. Dark and cold, thrashing her fragile body until she felt the deep ache of exhaustion set into her brittle bones, stretching her mind and frame so thin she had to pick up the body of a dead rat so she had a friend to talk to.
The looming threat of her death wasn't something she cared about anymore. She had done it before, two times at this point, if whatever they were doing that brought her back to this place ended up killing her, so be it.
Imogen was the one that concerned her the most. Always was, ever since they found each other.
She sat in bed, her purple hair resting on her left shoulder in a braid, this time shaped by Imogen's capable hands. She sat there, her frame obscured only by a sheer dress and shorts, coat folded on the foot of their bed for the night. Laudna watched her through the mirror placed on the far wall of the room, hairbrush in one hand and the other playing with the ends of her own hair. Her gaze left her girlfriend for a moment, settling onto the the pair of shears she took out of her belt while undressing.
Memories of running through the Parchwood, scavenging beetles to play with the dolls she used to make flooded her mind. She remembered how one day she fell on a puddle of mud, her knees scraped and hair sticking to her face uncomfortably. How when she got home, her mother had complained about how long her hair had gotten and that the mud had hardened and was impossible to wash out, a smile on her face.
She still cleaned her hair that day.
Laudna looked at herself in the mirror. She studied her fingers threading through black and white, her vision blurring with unshed tears. Wet trailed down her cheeks as Laudna parted her hair in the middle, two sections resting against her front, her eyes coming back to her own face as she smiled.
Control.
She could have it, even if it seemed insignificant on the great scheme of things, it mattered to her.
Memories still haunted her to this day. She would never forget what was done to her and what was taken from her. But she cherished what she got after everything. If she had never left Whitestone she would've never have the need to create Pâtè. If she never became a wanderer, or a witch as some townsfolk around all the places she passed through liked to call her, she would've never stumbled into Imogen. Would've never known her.
Would've never loved her.
She felt Imogen's gaze on her back but the other woman didn't move from where she sat on the bed. They didn't need words, she knew Imogen understood even without diving into Laudna's mind. She saw it on her face, a soft smile on her mouth and eyes so loving Laudna couldn't maintain eye contact for too long, shifting it instead back to that pair of shears. She touched them, the long and pointed nail on her forefinger running along it's length until it reached the handle and she wrapped her palm around it to feel it's weight on her hand, cold steel against cold skin. Laudna closed her eyes and brought it up near her chin, her other hand coming up to her hair.
And she opened her eyes again.
At the sound of blades hitting each other she looked down. Black and a few white strands of hair fell on her lap as her whole body seized, a sob escaping her mouth. She heard shuffling behind her and eventually warm hands cupped her face, scarred thumbs wiping the tears staining her pallid cheeks.
"It's okay baby, I'm here." She heard and looked back up again. Laudna nodded, the smile still on her face. She wasn't sad, how could she be?
"Is it alright if you help me with the back, darling?" Laudna said, one of her hands landing on a scarred wrist. "I'm afraid I don't have much experience with this." She looked pointedly at Imogen's braid, a wave of self consciousness hitting her suddenly.
Imogen smiled and got up from her knees, "Of course." She uttered under her breath and moved behind the warlock, parting her hair more appropriately and Laudna relaxed into the chair she was sitting. It dug into her bones uncomfortably but Imogen's hands on her hair was worth any ache she felt in her body. She studied Imogen's movements through the mirror again, a crease forming between the lavender haired woman's eyebrows as she concentrated on the task at hand. Laudna loved watching Imogen, either during combat when lighting licked up her body and travelled out of her capable hands or just doing mundane things.
Imogen looked back at Laudna through the mirror in front of them after a few moments, a questioning look in her face as she raised her hand towards the pair of shears the warlock still had on her grasp. Laudna smiled again and looked down at her hands on her lap, the few strands of hair she cut earlier still there, clinging to her sleep clothes like hooks, holding her back. She brushed them off of her and watched every single one of them land on the floor, gravity pulling them down and keeping them there. Laudna craned her neck up, this time looking directly at Imogen who had her gaze on her girlfriend already.
"Whatever you need, hon'" She heard Imogen whisper. She understood, that was all she needed. Laudna brought her hand back up again and gave the steel shears to Imogen, adjusting her head so she would be facing the mirror again, waiting. She felt and saw Imogen's hand circling around the back of her neck to her cheek, thumb caressing the skin there. "I love you, Laudna. Whatever you need I'll give it to you." Imogen held her gaze while saying these words and a different kind of warmth filled Laudna's chest. Not the same as when she couldn't move her arm and Delilah drove a rift between them. Not the same as when she killed Bor'dor, Orym's eyes trained on her and a nod of encouragement thrown her way when all she wanted was to be taken out of there. Not the same as when Otohan's blade pierced her skin, black ichor and blood rushing out of her chest and warming the skin there. Different, a kind of warmth she welcomed and would never shy away from. The love she felt for Imogen was the only thing that could ground Laudna. She loved this woman so unconditionally she firmly believed she could do anything and Laudna would still love her, still be there for her with whatever she chose to do and whatever path she chose to walk.
"I love you too, Imogen." She simply said as she felt a kiss being planted on the top of her head. A scarred hand ran it's fingers through the hair on the back of Laudna's head as she saw Imogen adjusting the hand with the shears so that she could know what length was best until Laudna nodded, more hair falling on the floor like the tears running down her cheeks. She didn't feel sad, no, she felt free in a weird way. A weight lifting off of her shoulders, her neck felt easier to move around the more hair Imogen cut.
Freedom. What a funny word that was.
She wasn't free, at least not yet. She wasn't free from Delilah, her grasp in her soul still very much there. She wasn't free to live a quiet life with Imogen and she didn't know if they would ever be able to have that. She wasn't free, it's true, but at this moment she felt like she was. Maybe it sounded silly, it was just hair after all but Laudna couldn't care less.
They could die at any second.
With damp cheeks and a smile on her face, she looked back at Imogen. The other woman had an intense look on her face, love pouring out of her in waves, these ones not swallowing Laudna into their depths but instead keeping her afloat. "Does it look good, darling?" She heard herself ask, the smile on Imogen's face softening even further.
"You are so beautiful, Laudna." The warlock felt her neck being angled up to look at Imogen, a kiss gently placed on her wine colored lips. "You will always be beautiful in my eyes, hon'."
Laudna's cheeks ached by the force of her smile as she ducked her head back down, her body shaking from all the emotions she felt burbling in the surface. "Now," The sorcerer said behind her, "I think it's time for a bath. There's hair everywhere." Laudna chuckled and nodded, getting up from her chair. She rotated her body to stand front to front with Imogen and leaned down for another kiss, trying to convey all the things she felt for this marvelous woman.
"Thank you." She felt Imogen tucking a strand of hair behind her ears and she brought her own hand to them, the jagged edges of her mutilated ears covered by jewelry.
Imogen smiled back at her and started walking in the direction of the door that lead to the bathroom on the room they were staying, opening it. "I'm gonna prepare a bath for you. Come in when you're ready." And closed the door behind her with a soft click. Laudna walked to the mirror again and studied herself. With her hair this short, she could see the scar on her neck completely and the gold cuffs on her ears. She ran her fingers through it like she was doing earlier but this time the ends of her hair brushed against her fingers before her hand passed her shoulder. She moved her hands to her neck and caressed the skin there, raised skin of the scar tissue there greeted her back. Her fingers continued up until she reached her ears and put her hair behind it, displaying her whole face on the mirror. She worked the cuffs out of her ears and put them on the edge of her nightstand, tucking her hair behind her ears again and this time feeling only the jagged edges of the mutilated skin there, a smile on her face again.
She didn't want to hide anymore.
She never did it because she hated this part of herself, but because other people would look at it, get scared and she just never took them off again. She didn't care if people got scared, she loved it even, the sense of control it gave her that she could use what was done to her to protect herself. She paced back to the mirror and saw herself reflected there, her hand moving to the clothes she had put on to bed and taking them off, reveling every bit of skin on her body. She observed her own movements as she folded the clothes and placed them in front of her. She ran her finger across the scar in the middle of her chest from edge to edge and splayed her palm on it, feeling her sluggish heart beat beneath the skin there. She smiled again and moved to the door Imogen went into earlier, opening it and stepping into the room.
She could think more later. Now she wanted to forget some things for just a few moments.