Khemrys (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
homeless_pard) wrote2013-07-14 07:21 pm
homeless_pard) wrote2013-07-14 07:21 pm
I know you now my lord
Who: Khemrys and Magus
When: Just after healing Magus, before the big fight.
What: Khemrys ponders the man whose house she has joined and tries to sort herself out after the first major healing in her life.
She tied a last thread, slid the last needle home, and eyed her work. The cloak was repaired now, the last of the garments still bearing mark or stain from the healing past. Hers were not fine stitches fit for a high lord, but they were small, and clean, and straight. The mend was near invisible as she held up the folds, and near invisible would have to do.
Sewing and stitching were simple, clear tasks; something to set her mind at ease with it's familiarity. She could be doing stillwork, or cooking, or any number of simple things but none of those would let her stay here. Here beside Magus, watching as he slept. The healing had been...harsh. Her first time delving so deep into her Power, and it had used his resources (and her own) cruelly. It was no wonder he slept now, and she would not leave him to wake alone after such.
That and she was still sorting through her own skin after the work. These, long and thin, were her fingers. She could feel them move, the stretch of skin across her knuckles and the gentle prick of fabric beneath her fingers...and yet, if she was distracted she felt another set of fingers from the inside out. They lay, heavy and relaxed upon a chest that rose with steady breathing, not a mended cloak.
And in a way...those were her fingers as well.
It had faded, somewhat, since the healing had ended. For a time there had been but a single heartbeat, a single breath, and one sense of bone and blood. Now, slowly, the differences were occurring. This was her hand, she could see it, and move it at her whim. The one she saw upon Janus's chest was not hers, though, if she wished would it move at a thought?
No, no certainly not. Down that path lay darkness and shadow and she could not go there. She could taste his heart on her tongue and the flow of blood in his veins like they were her own, stepping away to start her mending had been like tearing her own flesh when they were separated but...that was fading now.
Duller.
She was glad he was asleep. It would be unseemly to feel so connected to someone and have them watching as she tried to find the boundaries of her own skin once more. Unseemly, frightening perhaps, and...she would not wish him frightened of her. He did not share well, her lord. She did not think he would care to share bodies in a way far more intimate than man and maid might. Khemrys wasn't certain she cared to and it was her own ability that caused it!
She blinked and the brush of her lashes against her cheek was a brief tickle where his lay still and gentle in sleep. That was his face, this was her own, and she reached out a hand to touch his cheek gently, reassuring herself. She felt that brief contact like an echo through her skin, a phantom hand pressed to her cheek even as her fingers were solid on his.
No, she did not imagine any might be comfortable with such as this.
Idly she wondered if the twinning, the shared sensations, would stop if she shifted. Ah, but what if he then felt the slide of fur when he wore skin? Would it be maddening? Distracting?
What if...
...what if it made him angry to be tied to such as she? This was deeper, and far more intimate a bond than words and vows. Another reason, perhaps, to be glad he slept. She hoped the sharing would fade before he awoke. She didn't think she could bear it if she saw disgust in his eyes. What good, after all, sharing a heartbeat and the feel of a body to a mage or warrior? It was a boon to a healer, to trace the ills, but to any other?
She imagined none would care for it outside those bound together already. A husband and wife perhaps might find naught amiss with the feel of skin slowly peeling apart from one another after a heated tangling, but none else certainly. No.
Khemrys dropped her fingers from his cheek slowly, shivering as cool air brushed where her warm fingers had lain. Fainter? Yes, it was fainter, that feel, or so she told herself. Perhaps this was natural, when one of Power had to twine so deep into another. Perhaps it simply took time to sort a soul and mind back out from the muddle panic had made of them.
Yes, please lords and ladies let this be normal and passing.
She did not think she could bear to lose another home; not when this one had come as such a generous boon.
"Rest well my lord," she offered softly, voice thick with worry and exhaustion both. She'd sleep when he awoke; best neither of them sleep unprotected this eve. For now though she added his mended cloak to the light blanket she'd found to cover him, her shoulders unknotting slightly with the added warmth over his. May he rest well and fates be kind enough to allow him freedom when he awoke.
When: Just after healing Magus, before the big fight.
What: Khemrys ponders the man whose house she has joined and tries to sort herself out after the first major healing in her life.
She tied a last thread, slid the last needle home, and eyed her work. The cloak was repaired now, the last of the garments still bearing mark or stain from the healing past. Hers were not fine stitches fit for a high lord, but they were small, and clean, and straight. The mend was near invisible as she held up the folds, and near invisible would have to do.
Sewing and stitching were simple, clear tasks; something to set her mind at ease with it's familiarity. She could be doing stillwork, or cooking, or any number of simple things but none of those would let her stay here. Here beside Magus, watching as he slept. The healing had been...harsh. Her first time delving so deep into her Power, and it had used his resources (and her own) cruelly. It was no wonder he slept now, and she would not leave him to wake alone after such.
That and she was still sorting through her own skin after the work. These, long and thin, were her fingers. She could feel them move, the stretch of skin across her knuckles and the gentle prick of fabric beneath her fingers...and yet, if she was distracted she felt another set of fingers from the inside out. They lay, heavy and relaxed upon a chest that rose with steady breathing, not a mended cloak.
And in a way...those were her fingers as well.
It had faded, somewhat, since the healing had ended. For a time there had been but a single heartbeat, a single breath, and one sense of bone and blood. Now, slowly, the differences were occurring. This was her hand, she could see it, and move it at her whim. The one she saw upon Janus's chest was not hers, though, if she wished would it move at a thought?
No, no certainly not. Down that path lay darkness and shadow and she could not go there. She could taste his heart on her tongue and the flow of blood in his veins like they were her own, stepping away to start her mending had been like tearing her own flesh when they were separated but...that was fading now.
Duller.
She was glad he was asleep. It would be unseemly to feel so connected to someone and have them watching as she tried to find the boundaries of her own skin once more. Unseemly, frightening perhaps, and...she would not wish him frightened of her. He did not share well, her lord. She did not think he would care to share bodies in a way far more intimate than man and maid might. Khemrys wasn't certain she cared to and it was her own ability that caused it!
She blinked and the brush of her lashes against her cheek was a brief tickle where his lay still and gentle in sleep. That was his face, this was her own, and she reached out a hand to touch his cheek gently, reassuring herself. She felt that brief contact like an echo through her skin, a phantom hand pressed to her cheek even as her fingers were solid on his.
No, she did not imagine any might be comfortable with such as this.
Idly she wondered if the twinning, the shared sensations, would stop if she shifted. Ah, but what if he then felt the slide of fur when he wore skin? Would it be maddening? Distracting?
What if...
...what if it made him angry to be tied to such as she? This was deeper, and far more intimate a bond than words and vows. Another reason, perhaps, to be glad he slept. She hoped the sharing would fade before he awoke. She didn't think she could bear it if she saw disgust in his eyes. What good, after all, sharing a heartbeat and the feel of a body to a mage or warrior? It was a boon to a healer, to trace the ills, but to any other?
She imagined none would care for it outside those bound together already. A husband and wife perhaps might find naught amiss with the feel of skin slowly peeling apart from one another after a heated tangling, but none else certainly. No.
Khemrys dropped her fingers from his cheek slowly, shivering as cool air brushed where her warm fingers had lain. Fainter? Yes, it was fainter, that feel, or so she told herself. Perhaps this was natural, when one of Power had to twine so deep into another. Perhaps it simply took time to sort a soul and mind back out from the muddle panic had made of them.
Yes, please lords and ladies let this be normal and passing.
She did not think she could bear to lose another home; not when this one had come as such a generous boon.
"Rest well my lord," she offered softly, voice thick with worry and exhaustion both. She'd sleep when he awoke; best neither of them sleep unprotected this eve. For now though she added his mended cloak to the light blanket she'd found to cover him, her shoulders unknotting slightly with the added warmth over his. May he rest well and fates be kind enough to allow him freedom when he awoke.