Chapter Text
The sky is tearing itself apart, bleeding angry swirls of crimson clouds that howl and whip around her. Lightning crackles like pulsing veins and thunder booms to drown out her racing heart.
Everything is red, red, red...
“Run, Imogen!” her mother’s voice, frantic, desperate. “Run!”
And so she runs.
Imogen feels the dust and rubble snapping at her heels as she sprints towards the safety of her home. The wind howls and howls.
“Run, Imogen!”
She finally reaches the front porch and looks back--!
When her eyes spring open, Imogen feels ill. Her stomach churns as her chest heaves for breath, and her heart hammers itself painfully against her ribs. The jagged web-work of thin purple scars pulse and ache beneath the skin of her hands. Her mouth feels dry, lips chapped, while her forehead is sweaty and plastered with her dampened violet bangs.
She curls in on herself, trying to calm her body down. Everything hurts...
The phantom wailing of the storm still haunts her but somewhere distant she can hear snippets of voices from her father’s mind as he dreams, and she desperately grasps for them. After a moment of struggling and focusing, she’s able to make it sound clearer in her head, to push back the memory of fear if only a little bit.
He’s dreaming about the time he had gotten her Flora from the market. Imogen had picked her out from all the other horses for sale that day--Flora wasn’t the best in breed or stock, but young Imogen had felt the gentleness in her spirit. She was the sweetest mare, and she was perfect for her.
Imogen feels a pang of guilt in her chest as she listens. She knows that her father had gotten Flora so Imogen wouldn’t feel so lonely.
She didn’t have any friends, couldn’t have any friends.
Imogen was cursed.
Without meaning to, she hears the thoughts of those around her as easily as if they were speaking them aloud. This led to Imogen learning that everyone has secrets, dark ones. Some are greedy, some are cruel, some are vain; everyone carries frightening things in their thoughts.
She has heard many things that she wishes she hadn’t.
It’s even worse when there’s more than one person around. Then she hears all of the bad things all at once, hissed whispers grating upon the surface of her brain like nails on a chalkboard. Being near people always meant a cacophony of pain and confusion and too much.
She has to constantly fight just to hold her own mind together, to keep herself separate from the tempestuous chaos so she doesn’t get swept away in the storm of it all and lose herself.
And so she hides.
Away from people, away from the litany of thoughts that bombard her mind with their dissonant multitude. Away from the headaches, the loudness.
Imogen sighs, realizing that going back to sleep is not going to be an option. She gets up and starts getting ready for the day. Based on the color in the sky, it appears to be a few hours before dawn.
Time to get an early start on the farm chores.
She quietly slips outside into the brisk early morning air, pulling her jacket a little tighter around her frame as she trudges towards the barn. She can see her breath come out in little puffs in front of her, can feel the slight crunch of the autumn grass beneath her boots.
Something about the dark morning hour calms her. It’s almost as if the world lies still, not yet awake to bother her with its noise.
Above her the sky blushes at the seams as the night prepares to meet the dawn.
And that is when she hears it.
Something fragile and faint, like distant music. Not quite a stream of thought, but...similar, softer, pleasant and muted as if underwater.
It was pretty, whatever it was.
”Pardon me, but can you tell me which way the nearest town is? Also, don’t mind the appearance.”
Imogen just about startles out of her own skin when she hears someone speak. She pauses, hand still gripping the barn door, as she turns towards the voice and--oh, wow...
The woman that stands before her looks unlike anyone she has ever seen in her life.
Even in the dim predawn light she can tell how strikingly different she is.
Large, endlessly dark eyes that seem to swallow the dim light around them peer at her from behind curtaining threads of ink-black hair. Her skin is dull and pale like Catha’s light, her face angular and stark. She wears a threadbare maroon tunic adorned with various hanging bobbles and a tattered cloak, reminding Imogen of the stories where goddesses would disguise themselves as haggard travelers to walk the earth.
The pleasant wavelengths are radiating from this mysterious stranger, Imogen realizes with disbelief.
No one ever sounds like this though.
“Please don’t be frightened!” the woman continues quickly when she sees Imogen’s jaw drop, “I mean you no harm, of course!”
Imogen immediately wants to kick herself for being so rude and gawking at this poor woman who was just trying to ask her for directions. “Oh gosh, I’m really sorry for starin’ miss,” she blurts out in apology, “I just didn’t expect anyone to be out here this early...” she hopes that she hasn’t made her uncomfortable.
It feels like its been ages since she spoke to someone who didn’t hurt her to be around. She has clearly forgotten how to be normal around people.
The woman chuckles, a deep and amused sound that puts a tiny quiver through Imogen’s spine. “What a coincidence! I didn’t expect to see anyone either.” She grins wide, revealing slightly pointed teeth, “I was originally just going to keep walking west until I arrived somewhere, so this is a very fortunate meeting!”
Imogen can’t help but smile at that. Something about this woman, her optimism, her demeanor, her mind whose sweet humming has not wavered since they began speaking, has her fascinated.
“I-I’m Imogen, by the way.” she introduces herself, half-polite half-flustered, “Imogen Temult.”
Imogen, Imogen, Imogen... Voices whisper through the music along the edges of her mind, a soft chorus that drifts over her brain like the lazy morning fog. It feels nice, refreshing even.
No one ever had thoughts that sounded like this. This wasn’t loud, wasn’t sharp, this didn’t hurt.
The woman draws a bit closer, expression one of curiosity--or is it awe? There are many emotions Imogen glimpses all at once as she nears--surprise, uncertainty, wonder.
“I must say it truly is a pleasure, Imogen! I’m Laudna.” There’s something softer about her smile this time, something more hopeful.
“Nice to meet you too, Laudna.” and for the first time, she truly means it. “You were lookin’ for the nearest town, you said? Well, you’re almost there.” She lifts a gloved hand and points to the southwest, “Gelvaan is just a bit further that way. This here farm is just along the edge of it.”
Laudna’s head swivels in the direction she points with a tiny crack and the woman hums pensively. “Well, that’s wonderful news! I have been needing to procure a new water-skin, you see, after my last one was burned to bits.”
Imogen frowns. “Burned? How’d that happen?”
Laudna turns to look at her again, grin still in place. “Oh, they lit my old house on fire.” She says this with the same nonchalant tone people used when talking about casual things like what they’d had for breakfast or the weather.
“What?! You serious?!” Imogen suddenly worries about the kind of situation Laudna is currently in, “Who’s they? Are you alright?”
Laudna loftily waves a slender hand. “Just some townspeople about a hundred miles away from here. I’m quite experienced with this sort of thing though, not to worry! I simply didn’t have the time to retrieve all of my belongings this time, is all.”
Something about the tones around Imogen shift as Laudna speaks. Like a candle flame shrinking on the wick, the music dims. Something about it makes her want to reach out for it, to grasp it and make sure it stays.
As her mind extends she catches flashes of memory, of sensation. Yelling, fearful, hateful--breaking glass as stones shatter window panes, deafening booms of blows on doors, loud cracks of splintering wood--heat, flame, embers that sear, smoke that chokes--the sudden cold chill of night air as she runs through the darkness on bloodied feet, brambles whipping at her legs. This plays over and over across different houses, different landscapes, different towns. The same nightmare, again and again.
Imogen doesn’t realize she’s crying until a chilled finger hesitantly brushes a tear from her cheek.
And that’s all it takes really, that tender bit of careful kindness from this person who has endured so much cruelty, for Imogen’s heart to break.
She sniffles, takes Laudna’s hand to hold in both of her own. “I’m so sorry that’s happened to you, Laudna! You don’t deserve any of it.” She notices how cold the woman's skin feels, even through the leather of her gloves, “Would you like some warm tea? The town market won’t be open for a few hours yet, you know. Maybe you could rest here a while and then I can show you the way after my chores are done?”
She’s already reaching behind herself to drag open the barn door for the both of them. “I haven’t had breakfast yet either, so this is actually an excuse for me too!” Imogen quickly continues, ushering her in to sit upon a nearby wooden crate. “If you don’t mind just waitin’ here a sec, I’m gonna head back to the farmhouse real quick and get us some breakfast?”
The barn is dark in the early morning, but Imogen quickly goes and lights the lantern sconces to cast a cozy golden glow around the space. When she turns around, Laudna is looking up her from her seat on the crate, dark eyes wide and searching. Hope and fear dance together across the woman’s musical thoughts for a moment before her emotions settle again.
“I wouldn’t want to impose, but I do enjoy your company very much Imogen.” she finally says, voice soft and expression fond. There is no discord between Laudna’s thoughts or her words, either. They drift whimsically like tiny bubbles of hope and elation rising between them.
Imogen feels a flutter in her chest. Something in her is knocked hopelessly off-balance and she struggles to return to center.
“N-No trouble at all, really! I uh, I like you too, Laudna.” she clears her throat, wills her nerves to settle. They don’t. “I...I promise I’ll be back before you know it, okay? You just wait right there!” She practically squeaks as she strides purposefully toward the door with bright burning cheeks.
Imogen doesn’t flee the barn exactly, but she does leave quickly and full of an odd sort of embarrassment. She wishes that she were used to her own awkwardness with people, but even now she just wants to shake her head at herself. She hadn’t meant to get so flustered all of the sudden, but something about Laudna’s sweetness makes her feel splayed open in a way she isn’t used to.
She simply hadn’t been prepared for how the woman’s pale face would look in the golden light, hadn’t braced for the warmth in her voice, in her thoughts, and it had sent her heart galloping from her chest.
Imogen takes several deep breaths of chilled morning air, letting it cool her heated face. The house is still quiet, her father soundly asleep upstairs. He is now dreaming about chasing a runaway calf through a flower market. Imogen stifles a little giggle and quietly puts the kettle on and moves to rummage through their larder.
She cooks them both some eggs and toast that she slides onto slightly chipped ceramic plates.
She then prepares a tidy cloth bundle of extras including a pouch of cured jerky and candied nuts, a warm blanket, a small box of matches, a brass cooking pot, and a thick spool of thread paired with a sewing needle for mending. She figures her father would barely notice the missing items, and if he did, Imogen would just think of something convincing to say.
Laudna can take these with her too. I hope this will be enough...
Something painful churns deep in her gut because she doesn’t want Laudna to leave when she had just gotten here. She doesn’t want to let her walk away back into a life of loneliness and scorn.
Maybe I can add something to lift her spirits when she sees it?
As a last minute decision, Imogen packs some of the pressed wildflowers that she had left hanging in her window to dry. They were fragrant and sweet and bore petals in soft pastel hues that helped her feel calm. She hopes they could serve to brighten Laudna’s day a little.
The food is still steaming when Imogen makes her way back out to the barn. She carefully balances two full plates on one arm, two cups grasped in one hand, the other holding onto a large thermos and the bundle of supplies.
As she nears she can hear that same delicate amalgam of muted tones, although...this time she hears another voice.
One that is definitely not Laudna.
This voice is dark and cruel and grating on her mind like the fangs of a predator.
“She’s not coming back, you foolish child. I wouldn’t be surprised if she went to ask her father to come chase you off with a torch.”
Imogen picks up her walking pace as much as she can without dropping everything. Whoever this voice was, they were definitely trouble.
“See this is why I don’t listen to you, among many other reasons.” She hears Laudna reply aloud, surprisingly calm, “Your intuition about people is just terrible. Imogen is a very sweet girl, she’ll be back just like she promised. You’ll see!”
“You are so naive to think that anyone would ever want to help you, poor undead wretch. She’ll run like all the others, once she knows what you really are...”
“Well,” and Imogen is close enough now to hear how Laudna’s voice cracks and bleeds out loneliness and pain at the edges, “If she wishes me gone at such a time, then I won’t trouble her further and I’ll go.”
“You truly are a pathetic-”
“You know what’s ‘truly pathetic’, Miss Whoever-You-Are?” Imogen finally can’t bear listening to this horrible woman mentally degrading Laudna any longer and casts her own thoughts outwards in an angry burst. “You are, for givin' shitty advice on a life that ain’t even yours!”
Silence. The dark and heavy presence that once lingered over the space has vanished.
There is only the soft music of Laudna’s thoughts now in response, as Imogen stands in the doorway of the barn. Perhaps she had successfully spooked the mean mind-lady off?
Laudna’s head snaps around and dark eyes stare at her in awe. “...Imogen?”
Imogen, for her part, offers an awkward smile that probably more closely resembles a grimace. The sinking dread creeps in when she realizes that Laudna definitely knows that Imogen was just inside her head, listening in on her private thoughts.
“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to overhear your thoughts with, uh--”
“Delilah Briarwood.” Laudna supplies, eyes unblinking.
“Right. I just have this...problem? A curse? I hear people’s thoughts all the time, even when I don’t want to...I-I wasn’t tryin’ to snoop on you or anything, I swear!” Imogen nervously shuffles forward and hesitantly offers Laudna a plate of food, “Do you still want to have breakfast with me? I-I mean, it’s totally fine if you don’t feel comfortable around me anymore, I uh, I understand that havin’ your mind read all the time is kind of...invasive?” Everyone always thought so. No one trusts Imogen once they know she peers into their minds and sees their most private thoughts like a flashing neon sign. Which for the record, she never wanted any of it.
She is swiftly drawn out of her depressing thought spiral by the sound of Laudna’s laughter, rich and bright and delighted. “You are so funny, Imogen darling!” she tells her with a huge toothy grin, “If anything, I should be the one asking that. I am an undead woman with a villain stuck in her head after all! If anyone should be uncomfortable with us dining together, it should be you.”
Laudna accepts her so easily. Just like that. Like it was nothing, like Imogen wasn’t a total freak of nature who would overhear all of her secrets by accident.
Maybe...it would be okay to tell her everything? About the nightmares, about the red storm, about the lightning she sometimes feels crackling wildly beneath her skin.
Laudna was different too. She heard voices in her head and has faced more scorn from people than Imogen ever has.
She might actually understand.
Imogen’s heart constricts, and tears sting at her eyes for a brief moment before she sniffles.
“Well I don’t mind if you don’t?” her own voice sounds small and watery and full of hope.
Laudna just gives her the softest smile, accepts the plate, and scoots over to make room for her to sit beside her.
“Not at all.” the woman murmurs, her expression changing to one of excited curiosity, “So, Imogen, you can read minds? That’s pretty interesting!”
She nods. “Yeah, I couldn’t always do it, though. I started hearin’ thoughts around the time I began havin’ these nightmares about a terrible red storm that swallows up everything and...” she trails off as the phantom sensations of memories creep in again.
If she thinks about it for too long she can hear the wailing of the wind in her ears, feel the whipping of dust and sand along her skin, taste the lightning on her tongue.
Run, Imogen!
She curls inward slightly, trying to forget her mother’s frantic shouting and focus instead on the dull drifting tones of Laudna’s thoughts.
It works better than she expects it to, the other woman’s mind now almost welcomes her presence in as a guest. It feels even more comforting than before, like a safe embrace that Imogen wants to bury herself in and never leave.
Laudna’s smile falls a bit as she notes her growing distress, expression morphing into concern as she asks, “Is that why you were awake so early this morning? Did you have a nightmare?”
Imogen sheepishly fiddles with her hair. “Yeah...” she sees the worry in Laudna’s face increase, and tries to offer her a reassuring smile, “I-I think I’m alright now, though.”
And it is the truth. Laudna has kept the memories of her nightmare at bay.
“Well, if you wish to discuss it further, I am here to listen.” Comes the gentle, raspy reply.
And that’s all it takes really, for Imogen to open up to her.
She tells Laudna the details, how frightening it all is, how she thinks she might be cursed. She tells her about how she sometimes tastes ozone when she’s upset, and how effortlessly static builds around her fingertips.
“I have these...ugly lookin’ scars, too. I think they might be spreading?” And she hesitantly slips off a glove to show her the strange network of thin purple lines that zig-and-zag in gleaming channels across her skin.
She watches Laudna stare at them for a moment, tracing them over and over with her void-like eyes. Then Imogen starts feeling self-conscious so she tries to busy herself with pouring some tea out of the thermos for the both of them. Maybe if her hands were moving, she reasons, the hideous webbing would be harder to notice.
“They’re rather beautiful, I think.” Laudna finally speaks, her quiet voice enough to make Imogen freeze. There’s a note of reverence there that she hadn’t expected to hear, and the sincerity of it swiftly pierces her through.
Like pretty gloves of violet lace that a princess might wear... The tender thought drifts whimsically across her mind, born solely of the pureness of Laudna’s admiration.
Imogen finds herself feeling all flustered again.
She doesn’t know why her heart is racing in her chest, or why her palms feel sweaty. Laudna is so sweet and has such lovely thoughts about her that she just doesn’t know what to do. She is so different and strange and wonderful and unlike anyone she has ever met before.
Their hands brush as she stiffly passes Laudna her tea and Imogen swears she feels sparks alight beneath her skin.
“Thank you.” She carefully sends, because she knows her voice won’t work for her right now.
Of course, dear... Comes the sunny reply and an odd amalgam of hushed whispers. Imogen smiles, relaxes.
This is nice.
Finally, finally, here was someone who wasn’t weirded out by all of this. Someone who she could feel comfortable around.
“Ah, this tea is simply delightful!” Laudna declares while quickly draining her cup, “It’s been a while since I’ve had a decent chamomile.”
Imogen holds up the thermos, giving it a little shake for emphasis. . “There’s more where that came from, still nice n’ warm?”
Laudna giggles, dark eyes sparkling with wicked delight, as she holds out her cup to her. “You spoil me, sweet girl.”
Imogen’s cheeks warm at the praise, but she manages to keep her hands steady as she pours Laudna’s tea.
When she meets the woman’s gaze however, she finds herself ensnared, bearing down into soft endless pools of ink.
Laudna really is beautiful, in an ethereal sort of way. Almost as if she would vanish like a mirage into the morning mist if Imogen closed her eyes for too long.
“Maybe you deserve to be spoiled, Laudna...” she tells her softly.
Imogen finds herself carefully reaching out to brush a strand of long dark hair away from those fathomless eyes she can’t look away from.
Wine-colored lips part in surprise for a moment and Imogen is transfixed by them before reality swiftly strikes her with a rising sense of panic and she tears her hand away.
She doesn’t know why she just did that, why she just touched Laudna’s face like that.
She doesn’t know why she wants to do it all over again.
Laudna, bless her, seems completely unbothered by what just happened as she happily sips her tea. Looks like she might savoring it a little more this time around, though.
Sweet and lovely... Imogen catches the little snippet of thought as it passes by and accidentally fixates on it. Surely, Laudna was thinking about the tea?
“So, you mentioned something about chores earlier. Anything I can help with?” Imogen watches the woman lean forward somewhat eagerly. “I’m stronger than I look, I assure you.”
Please let me repay your kindness somehow...?
Imogen understands the notion of feeling indebted, and yet she believes Laudna owes her nothing. If anything Imogen is the grateful one, for being able to finally sit down and just be with another person without being in pain.
She hadn’t realized how lonely her life had been until Laudna showed up.
“Well, first I was going to feed the horses, if you’d like to help me with that?” She offers with a shy smile, “Plus, then you’ll get to meet Flora. She’s real special to me.”
Laudna beams, “She sounds wonderful!”
Flora isn’t quite sure what to make of the pale, spindly creature standing before her. She shifts nervously in place, ears folded back.
“It’s alright, sweet girl.” Imogen quietly soothes her and pats her broad neck gently, motioning Laudna forward. “This is Laudna. Laudna, this is Flora, my favorite horse in the whole world.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Flora.” The graven woman hesitantly steps forth, only for Flora to snort and shift back in slight agitation. Clearly, she was spooked by Laudna’s unnerving undead presence.
“Now don’t be like that, girl, Laudna’s a sweetheart I promise.” Imogen tentatively reaches out her mind to calm the horse. She feels Flora’s fear for a moment, her instinctual urge to recoil away from something strange or unnatural, but then she extends her own emotions. She conveys how safe Laudna makes her feel, that she is nothing to be afraid of.
Flora settles again, this time not flinching away when Laudna tries to approach her. Imogen grins at the two of them before pulling a tiny sugar cube out of a sachet in her coat pocket. “Here, Laudna.” she places it in her cool palm, trying very hard not to notice the vibrant sensation of how their skin touches. “This’ll win her over for sure.”
With a hopeful grin, the undead woman offers the treat to the placid creature. Flora sniffs at it once and then eagerly mouths at her pale hand for the confection, ears suddenly flicking around happily. Laudna giggles, delighted and bright.
"See?" Imogen can’t help but boast. "Fast friends."
Laudna looks over at her then, joy softening into something tender and subdued that makes Imogen’s breath catch. Fast friends... is the thought that echoes quietly back to her.
When the chores were done, Imogen led Laudna into town.
Normally, going into town was something she dreaded and avoided at all costs, but something about Laudna’s presence provided a balm against the grating thoughts that bombarded her.
“There goes that weird Temult girl--”
“Her poor father, havin’ to raise a--”
“--waste of a pretty face--”
“--bet she’s listening in right now. What a fucking freak...”
Imogen folds herself a little closer into Laudna, who is currently wearing a hooded cloak. She had explained earlier to Imogen that it helped her not get immediately run out of the towns she visited.
“Who is she with?”
“--ominous figure, dressed like that--”
“Probably up to no good...”
A thin arm slips around her shoulder like a comforting cloak and Imogen melts into it. “If it gets to be too much, darling, you just say the word.” comes the hushed murmur near her ear. “We can leave, no questions asked. Find somewhere nice and quiet away from all these people.”
Imogen smiles through her headache, allowing herself to sink a little deeper into Laudna’s mind for a second. It’s a calming respite from the loudness of everything else, and it welcomes her eagerly with its soothing songs.
“Thank you, Laudna.” she sends across their connection. “I think I’m okay though, we’re almost there anyway.”
Laudna gives her a gentle squeeze, guiding her carefully through the crowded street.
Alright, just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you..?
Imogen reaches up to rest her hand upon the cold one that cradles her upper arm as she sends, “You’re already helping me by being around. Just stay close to me?”
Faint vibrations tickle her skin as Laudna chuckles warmly against her. I would love nothing more...
Laudna stays.
She finds a small abandoned lean-to a ways outside of town and fixes it up quickly using a combination of magic and handiwork. Imogen is impressed by how fast the woman had accomplished creating a livable space out of next to nothing. Then she remembers that it comes from years of practice doing the same thing over and over, all alone, and she wants to cry.
She wasn’t alone anymore though. Neither of them were.
Laudna visits her everyday, brings her little trinkets she found or things that she made.
Imogen is eventually introduced to Pâté, Laudna’s rat puppet friend. She finds his ridiculously raunchy jokes very amusing and sometimes she even forgets that he’s not actually alive and that it’s just Laudna making him talk.
Every new thing she learns about Laudna is fascinating and unique. She wants to know everything about her.
Imogen’s father had reacted poorly to Laudna at first, just like everyone else.
He had pulled Imogen away and stood in front of her as if to shield her from Laudna, ordering the undead woman to leave immediately.
Imogen had heard him think “monster!” and snapped.
She had pushed her way past him, planted herself protectively in front of Laudna, and scolded him through a mist of angry tears.
How dare anyone call Laudna a monster when she is the nicest person Imogen has ever met? How dare they look upon her and see something to be scorned when her thoughts are so beautiful and inviting?
He had stared dumbly at the two of them for a moment, stunned by his daughter’s staunch defense of this creepy-looking stranger.
“Laudna’s not creepy, daddy. She’s a very kind person and her thoughts don’t hurt me to be around.” Imogen had sent to him. “She knows about my mind-readin' problem, too, and still wants to be my friend...please just give her a chance first?”
He had caved then, unable to deny his daughter a chance at being happy and having someone to talk to that wasn’t him or a horse.
And so he had swallowed back his reservations, apologized with sincerity, and had asked Laudna to stay for dinner with them to make up for his rudeness to her.
One month later and they are joking and bonding over discussions of soil quality and harvesting techniques. Imogen learns that Laudna had grown up on a farm too, in a far away place called Whitestone, though her family had supposedly been very poor.
“Explains why she’s so thin, the poor lil’ lady..." her father thinks sympathetically to himself as he packs Laudna a little extra to take with her every time she comes over for dinner now. “Maybe I’ll pack some cookies too ‘cause she seemed to like ‘em...I wonder if Imogen asked her to the harvest festival next week? She hasn’t been in years but maybe Laudna can convince her to go have fun for once...”
Imogen smiles at them, at how her family unit has expanded, feeling full and oddly complete.
“Here, Laudna, I can help you up first,” Imogen kneels, offering her knee as a stepping stool. “Flora’s not very tall, just throw a leg over her and you should be able to shimmy into the saddle.”
Laudna barely presses any weight upon Imogen before she is up and sitting atop the horse in a surprising display of dexterity. She grins down at her, pointed teeth flashing. It’s quite cute, Imogen thinks.
“Well I’ll be...” she drawls appreciatively, “I thought you said you didn’t have much ridin' experience?”
A deeply amused chuckle that carries a hint of wistfulness with it. “I don’t, but I once loved to climb trees.”
Imogen is tempted to reach out to her mentally and inquire about the implication that she doesn’t love it anymore, when she is met with phantom sensations; coarse rope coiling around her neck, hot blood filling her lungs, and jagged bark cutting mercilessly into the skin of her upper back--Imogen mentally retreats.
That was deeper, private. Laudna had not shared that source of pain with her yet and Imogen would not pry it from her.
“Okay Laud, lean forward just a bit? Thank you kindly.” Imogen swiftly hoists herself up into the saddle to settle behind her. She tries not fixate too much on how Laudna guides her hands to the reins and settles back against her as if they had done this a million times before.
They haven’t. In fact, Imogen hasn’t really ridden with another person before, save for when she was a little girl learning how to ride with her dad.
This is definitely different than that.
She can feel each shift of the woman’s hips, the curvature of her spine, the coolness where patches of their exposed skin align. Laudna carries the scent of sweet mulch and myrrh with her, which Imogen breathes in with every inhale.
It all feels so different and new and good.
Flora seems to be on her best behavior too as she dutifully carries them along through the thicket, tail flicking lazily behind her.
Imogen is grateful for the sluggish pace, wanting to hold Laudna as long as possible. Maybe it was selfish of her. To hope they don’t reach their destination anytime soon.
“This is quite nice, isn’t it?” Laudna muses quietly, absently watching a tiny yellow butterfly flutter past. “Such a beautiful day!”
Imogen smiles, letting Laudna’s optimism wash over her. “It is,” her voice comes out a little lower than she’d intended. She feels the woman shiver against her and immediately shifts back to remove her coat. “Are you cold? Here, you can take my coat, it’s already warm. I brought an extra one just in case because the Highlands're chilly in the autumn time and it’s also a bit windy today.” Imogen knows she’s nervously rambling, but she also knows that Laudna doesn’t mind.
She tucks the coat carefully around the woman’s shoulders, heart fluttering at the shy smile she receives as Laudna pulls it a little tighter around herself. The coat is quite big on her, and Imogen is strangely satisfied seeing Laudna tucked snugly inside it.
It’s soft and smells like wildflowers... Laudna’s private observation drifts across Imogen’s awareness. Like her...
Scarred fingers flex their grip upon the reins. It’s moments like these where Laudna makes her heart so full of emotion that it grows almost heavy with the weight of it all. She just wants to hold her close and--
“Is that the hill you were talking about?” Laudna interrupts her line of thought, pointing ahead of them.
“Oh, yeah that’s the one.” Imogen says, urging Flora forward with a click of the tongue, “At the top of the hill is another level of the plateau, but there’s a field I wanted to show you.”
As they crest the top of the somewhat rocky incline, the ground evens out into a sprawling field of flowers. It’s rare to see blossoms amidst the heart of the autumn season, but there are oddities in all aspects of nature.
“Oh Imogen, this is beautiful!” Laudna exclaims, looking out at the dancing expanse of tiny white blossoms in childlike wonder. Imogen beams with pride.
“I spotted this place the other day while on my deliveries for Master Faramore, and I knew it would make the perfect picnic spot.” she tells her happily, guiding Flora to a stop.
She easily turns and hops down, dusting off her riding pants before offering a hand up to help Laudna off. The woman lands a bit unsteadily, with a slight cracking sound, and she stumbles.
“Careful, sweetheart.” Imogen’s hands dart out to support her at the waist, Laudna reflexively resting a cool hand on her upper arm for balance.
They end up standing rather...closely as a result.
Imogen stares up in wonder at the soft, murky depths of dark eyes that are enshrined by long, flaring lashes. They seem to call to her the more she looks into them, beckoning.
It has become increasingly clear to her lately, how she feels about Laudna. This was something far greater in magnitude than simple admiration or friendship. This was like finding a piece of herself that she didn’t know she had been missing, and the thought of ever losing it again was devastating.
Imogen pulls away. It’s too much, the sequence of cause and effect frightens her. She can’t threaten what they have going, can’t bring herself to grasp for more.
“Well,” she clears her throat, cheeks warm and rosy, “Why don’t you see if you can find us a good spot to settle while I grab our stuff?”
Laudna nods with a dutiful expression and wanders off. Imogen watches her go for a moment, listening to her gently humming mind and the whispers of wind through the grass.
Imogen is distracted by the tranquility, which is why she doesn’t notice the danger at first.
Until it’s too late, and a dagger is pressed to her throat.
“Well, well, looks like we have a couple of lost girls here...” a gravelly voice sounds from behind her.
In her surprise, her mental barriers crack open and thoughts bombard her senses. There’s at least three separate minds pressing in all at once, grating and sharp and choking.
“--easy pickens, not even armed!”
“Wonder how much they’ve got...”
“--purple one’s got a nice body--”
Imogen squeezes her eyes shut against the screaming head pains and blindly stomps backwards onto the man’s foot. He yelps and shifts enough for her to duck underneath his hold and put some distance between them.
Flora rears back with a panicked whinny when the other two attempt to seize her reins. Imogen mentally urges the horse to run and the creature takes off in a frenzy, nearly bowling one of the men over.
“You bitch!” the highwayman she’d stomped on snarls, brandishing his dagger at her. “You’ll pay for that!”
Imogen is about to turn and run when long, pale skeletal fingers gently curl themselves over the top of her shoulder. They are icy and thin and taper into sharpened black claws of bleeding ichor. A frigid chill settles over her like a misty cloak and she can now see her breath come out in little puffs in front of her. Threads of spindly black hair curtain along the edges of her vision, hanging from somewhere above.
Don’t turn around, darling...
Laudna’s whispered thoughts echo firmly in her mind, pushing out everything else. Imogen grasps for it and grounds herself in it, in her.
“͓̽L͓͓̽̽E͓̽A͓͓̽̽V͓͓̽̽E͓̽, ͓̽N͓͓̽̽O͓͓̽̽W͓̽!” a deep guttural hiss sounds from somewhere above Imogen’s head. It is a dark, unnatural layering of voices that causes the hair on the back of her neck to instantly stand on end and her skin to prickle with gooseflesh.
She sees the men’s faces twist with horror and they stumble backwards.
“Oh shit! I-It’s a demon!” they trip all over themselves as they turn tail and flee, screaming.
Through her confusion over their sudden change of heart, Imogen absently notes that Laudna’s hand is much larger and longer and sharper than it usually is where it rests upon her shoulder. It wasn’t immediately apparent to her before because of how feather-light the touch is, as if not really making contact at all.
Are you alright..?
She hears the concerned sentiment directed towards her after a moment.
“Yeah, I’m alright, Laud. What about you?” Imogen nearly forgets herself and goes to crane her head up to look at her, before she’s halted by a gentle squeeze from unnaturally lengthened fingers.
Please, don’t look at me...
The barely concealed fear in those thoughts puts Imogen more on edge than being held at knife point does. She dutifully drops her gaze to the little blossoms scattered around them, but not before she brings a hand up to rest upon Laudna’s where it clutches at her shoulder. It’s colder and clammier than usual but she doesn’t mind it one bit.
“Thank you, for savin’ us.” she mumbles, stroking softly over the bony knuckles with her thumb.
“Are you afraid of me running away like they did?” she can’t stop the question from pouring out of her and into Laudna’s mind.
I don’t want you to see me like this...
“I’m not afraid of you, Laudna.” Imogen promises with a light squeeze of her hand. “I’m not. You make me feel safe, comforted--”
That will change when you see this dreadful form of mine...
Imogen quickly shakes her head. “It won’t, Laudna. I promise it won’t.”
The hand pulls away but Imogen doesn’t turn around. “I do want to know you, Laudna, every part of you.” she sends mentally what she is too cowardly to say aloud. She knows some of her feelings must seep into her words, but she cannot bring herself to care. “I don’t care if it’s scary or weird. It’s you.”
There is a soft sound behind her, a sort of muffled breath.
"͓̽I͓͓̽̽m͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽g͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽n͓̽..." a low, warbling chorus of hisses. It is both reverent and chilling, and once again she fights the urge to turn around.
“Can I see you?” Imogen calls out in a voice that wavers with emotion. “Please?”
There is a long pause, a slight shift in the air. “͓̽Y͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽s͓̽.”
Imogen turns and gasps.
Laudna is much taller now, towering over her like a looming shade. Her limbs have stretched themselves far beyond natural proportion, her neck bent forward at a strange ankle. Her eyes are sunken, wide and black like the void of night, bleeding dark ichor down her cheekbones, which are now much longer and angular looking. A spectral veil of darkness falls over her face, giving her a haunting ghostly visage.
And yet, the serene musical presence of her mind remains. The being before her is still undeniably Laudna, and Imogen is unafraid.
She shuffles up to where the new form stands frozen watching her, and slowly reaches for her face. The woman ducks her head minutely to tuck a cold cheek into Imogen’s scarred palm.
“See?” she murmurs up to her softly, soothingly, “It’s okay, Laudna. I’m not scared.”
She hears a crack, and watches as the form before her breaks and rebuilds and slowly shrinks down into the one she’s most familiar with.
Laudna smiles at her weakly. “You’re quite a brave soul, aren’t you darling?”
Thank you...
Imogen smiles back, reaching out to thread their hands together, hot and cold mixing pleasantly. “I think it’s kind of fun when you’re all spooky. It’s amusin' to watch people scatter like mice.”
Laudna chuckles then, brightening, unfolding from her state of heightened nerves. “Well you just say the word and I’ll gladly scare anyone you like, hm?”
There is something soft and new in her eyes now, a light that wasn’t there before and Imogen is transfixed by it for a moment.
“Something tells me that won’t be necessary. I don’t think they’re coming back to bother us anytime soon...” She’s pretty sure one of the men pissed themselves as they were scrambling away.
“Why don’t we go round up Flora and have our picnic? I packed those little cookies you like.”
Imogen can sense her horse wandering about nervously somewhere near the foot of the hill and goes to retrieve her; the gentle beast was torn between returning to the safety of the barn and looking for her rider. The reunion is a relief for both of them.
The ordeal with the highwaymen is soon forgotten as the two women sprawl out comfortably under the deep blue autumn sky and watch the puffy clouds drift lazily by, idly chatting about nothing and everything.
Laudna weaves them flower crowns out of the dainty white blossoms, and Imogen braids the blooms into Laudna’s pretty dark hair.
There is laughter, warmth, and a palpable deepening of a bond clad in tenderness and forged by the stars.
The world is cruel.
People never look beyond what they want to see, never open their minds to anything outside the norm. Different always equates to wrong.
It had started out subtle, at first. Only Imogen would really notice such a gradual change in a population’s general opinion.
They would always give a second glance, a small widening of the eyes, a subtle cringe at the edge of the brow; Laudna had frightened them, just by existing nearby.
Then came their ugly thoughts of judgement. Thoughts that weren’t even worth deliberating because of how cruelly untrue they were. They believed Laudna to be all manner of scary things--a witch, a ghoul, a monster.
It made Imogen angry; made her taste ozone on her tongue as she would have to bite back a scathing comeback to an insult never voiced aloud.
And then the rumors start.
Every time there’s a strange occurrence, a terrible accident in the night, their thoughts all turn upon Laudna. It is easy to cast blame upon something you don’t understand, something you fear.
And the tragic thing about fear is how it can be so easily reborn as hatred.
She’s afraid of Laudna going into town alone now, because every time Imogen opens her mind she is utterly bombarded. With exclamations of terror, with threats of fire and stones that buzz around her like a nest of angry hornets.
Even her father notices, after a while.
“I’m worried ‘bout your Laudna...” he grumbles to Imogen one morning as he stares out the window towards town, coffee mug in hand, “Folk’ve been talkin’ about sendin’ her packing, sayin’ she’s evil or bad luck or somethin’ like that...bunch of superstitious idiots, if you ask me.”
He gives Imogen a dagger the next week, telling her to keep it holstered on her, just in case they both run into trouble in town.
When she sees the black smoke trail from her window, Imogen is terrified.
She barely remembers throwing on her boots and racing outside. The distance to Laudna’s residence was not very far, but Imogen was still there in record time, almost as if she had flown there in her haste.
She stares dumbly at the blazing inferno that had once been Laudna’s home, can see the smouldering remains of her herb garden, can see the charred broken pieces of the makeshift birdbath scattered about.
The ugly thoughts hit her then as she turns and sees a small crowd.
“--bitch got what she deserved!”
“Maybe we’ll be safe now--”
“That witch was so scary...”
This was wrong, Imogen thinks, this was wrong and backwards and vile. Something inside of her snaps and flares violently to life.
“You people want scary?!” She mentally sneers at them, feeling consumed by rage. “I’ll show you scary!”
She wants to be cruel like they were, wants them to hurt.
In that moment, in her spiraling, unbridled anger, Imogen lets go of her control for the first time.
Her vision goes white as raw power sparks to life beneath her skin, her forearms aglow with threads of violet lightning. She wants to destroy them, erase them, every last one. For what they did to Laudna, who meant the world to her.
They took her everything, so she will take everything from them. She can feel it. Cracking, snapping, howling through her veins.
In that moment, Imogen lets herself become the storm.
Years of built up resentment collide with her vengeful fury in a crackling electric arc that sears the very air as she releases it.
The lightning strikes the ground at their feet with an explosive booming clap that shakes the earth and scorches the land.
She had not hit any of them, unused to the sheer force of the power inside herself, and they all take the chance to try and scurry off like fearful roaches.
Imogen carefully raises her crackling hand again, eyes aglow with blinding light.
This time she would not miss.
Imogen...?
“Laudna!?” The aura of roaring violet vanishes as Imogen turns and sees her standing in the burning doorway, clutching her dead rat puppet and a small cloth sack.
“I had to go back for Pâté,” Laudna explains casually, as if she hadn’t just rebuilt Imogen’s whole world again with her presence, “He would never let me hear the end of it if I had allowed his whiskers to get singed, and--oomph!”
Imogen hugs her and fights back tears that come flooding out anyway. “I’m so glad you’re okay! I was so scared they got you...”
Thin arms pull her closer and she is enveloped by comfort, by the subtle scent of myrrh and rain. A peace settles over her then, like the forest after a storm. At last, the sky calms and quiets.
“I am here, dearest.” Laudna soothes her gently, long fingers stroking through her hair. “It’s alright.”
They hold each other until the shack is a charred skeleton of wood and rope and cloth.
“So...” Laudna finally breaks their silence as the sun sinks beneath the horizon. “You have magic too? I mean, it makes sense because of the whole telepathy thing, so that’s interesting!”
Imogen stares down at her hands, at the dull thin purple lines that web her skin. She remembers them aglow, she remembers them not extending that far up her arm. “I guess I do?” She sighs, “I just wish I understood it more. Like where it all comes from?”
Laudna nods sagely. “Yes, it is quite a mystery, isn’t it? Maybe there’s like an institution of information or something that has the answers? There’s got to be scholars for that sort of thing, surely.”
Imogen would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about leaving before. She had. Whenever the nightmares got just a little too frequent, she would find herself planning a trip to find guidance, to find a solution.
She hums and glances to the smoking rubble. “What are you going to do now, Laudna?”
The woman chuckles, but there is no mirth to it. “Move on, I suppose...to somewhere else.” There’s a heaviness to her frame then, and Imogen realizes Laudna means to leave town, to leave her.
Which, she supposes, is the natural conclusion for her considering ‘here’ was no longer safe to inhabit.
Imogen smiles then, a decision cementing itself firmly in her mind. She pulls back and meets Laudna’s gaze.
“Could this ‘somewhere else’ of yours have an institution of magic scholars, maybe?” she drawls coyly, adjusting Laudna’s shawl about her shoulders.
Black eyes widen in surprise. “Imogen, you--” she halts, breath catching as her lips tremble.
You would come away with me...? The dark whispers caress Imogen’s mind longingly, lovingly.
“Of course I would, Laudna.” She sends in return, letting her own feelings dye her words for her, “Want to help me pack?”
“Dad,
If you’re reading this, I have left town on a trip with Laudna to try and find more information on my problem with the nightmares and my mind-reading. I don’t know how long we are going to be gone for, but I promise that I’m coming back, okay? Please take care of Flora for me, and remember to put the special warming blanket on her when it gets cold out.
I’ll write when I can, just know that I’m safe and Laudna’s looking out for me. She says ‘hi’, by the way.
Love Always,
Imogen Temult”
He plops down on the armchair, letter hanging limply in his hand as he stares out the window. Ruidus is bright and red and eerily beautiful tonight.
“Our daughter grew up so fast, Liliana...” He murmurs, full of worry and pride, into the quiet night.