once upon a dream

"You do not believe me, do you?" If he did, she does not think it would be so easy for him to laugh. She would miss his laugh.

Deirdre shudders and shrinks into herself when he asks if she has felt them. Reaching out, opening herself up to the Force around her is dangerous. Of course, that does not mean she has never done it. There have been times when the temptation, the need to feel some sort of connection, have been too strong to ignore.

"I have," she admits cautiously, eyes fixed firmly on the hand that rests at the hilt of his light saber. "It was faint once but it has grown stronger."

She grows silent as she considers his offer again, turning away from him to gaze out upon the swampy planet she has called home all eighteen years of her life. She has never known anything else. Looking out at the stars and imagining herself out there among them has only ever been a dream. But so has meeting anyone else and here she is still engaged with this Jedi.

It was that it did not matter. 

If he took a moment, if he allowed the Force to guide him and quieted his every natural instinct, Sigurd could admit that there was a spot of darkness in the middle of the galaxy, an inkstain that soaked and seeped and stained everything around it. He could even, thought it chagrined him, see the outline of that darkness shimmering behind Deirdre, even as the spoke now. 

But it did not matter. 

When he looked through eyes guided by the Force, he saw the light that suffused his every motion, he saw the radiance that seemed to vibrate from his skin, and Sigurd knew without being told - because he would not be told, it would not be acknowledged aloud - that there was something different with his connection to the Force. It was not as practiced or precise, but he felt within him the power of a sun, and when he looked at Deirdre now, there was nothing that he could imagine would not be drowned out by the light within him. 

And that included whatever Sith might come for her. 

When he reached forward this time, it was with his hand, fingers ghosting across hers until there was a tangible anchor between them, the beat of their pulses meeting in each fingertip. 

"I don't think my heart could take knowing that you are afraid – and alone," Sigurd said, and his voice dropped so soft and low that it was nearly drowned out by the croak and buzz of whatever else lived in this swamp. 

The Light shines from him into her like a lamp lit in a dark room. Deirdre wonders if, together, they might be able to chase the darkness within her out like shadows fleeing from the sun.

She looks up at him, his bright eyes twinkling down as he looks at her. He will protect her, he promises, and she believes that he can. She does not want to be alone any longer.

It does help a little knowing that Edain was there with him. As much as her husband worries about keeping her safe, she worries about him too. Edain knows how he is and Deirdre knows there is no other healer better than her dear friend. "I hope you did not need to take care of him too much. But... I do know him."

Her smile is forced but it is a relief to learn that Sigurd and Edain did not need to venture into the Aed. "You did not run into any cultists, then?" Would they have known her had she joined the expedition?

Deirdre looks at Edain's hand holding her own. A simple gesture but one that means the world to her. How many times had they held hands like this before? She has missed it terribly but it is hard to find comfort when Edain continues to speak.

"Of course. I will find something else to busy myself with."

It is not so difficult to find ways to help that pull her out of Lachesis's way. Supplies to replenish and organize, sailors to aid. She should be able to keep plenty clear of Lachesis but something keeps drawing Deirdre back to seek her out as they work.

Something seems to be bothering the Nordion woman. Deirdre knows, of course, that it could simply be her own presence. Things are strained between them at best and have been for some time now. But she still worries what if there is something more.

“Lady Deirdre. I’m quite all right.” She did not turn, but took a moment with her head down to swallow the heat that kept rising in her, and squeezed her eyes shut against the throb against her neck.

Deirdre would continue to ask - Lachesis knew that she would, or at least hoped that she would, not in particular because she wanted to hear it, but because it would have been evidence, at least, that the friend she knew was not entirely eroded down and erased by the flames of history.

Whether Lachesis felt enough herself to answer was a different story.

A groan, delicate, as a cool breeze filtered in through the window, truncated by the calls of another in greater need.

"My lady..." She frowns and stands as firmly as she can in the doorway. She has had practice convincing stubborn individuals to rest but it is far less intimidating when that individual is her own husband.

"These men are indeed ill but so are you." There is a pale pallor to Lachesis's cheeks that worries Deirdre and she did not miss the way the other woman sought out an open window for relief. "If you continue to push yourself, you will only end up joining them on a cot and I will be left to tend to you all on my own. But, if you sit down for a moment, have a glass of water yourself, and tell me what is truly troubling you, perhaps we can have you fully on your feet in no time."

She looks up at her friend, worry creasing the corners of her eyes. Deirdre cares about their charges, of course, but there is something personal about seeing Lachesis in distress. Even if the other woman ends up resenting her even more for it, she cannot simply ignore the signs that something is not right.

It makes her nervous to stand opposite him even though she knows she would never have any reason to worry with him. And it shows clearly in the way she grips so tightly to her lance.

He is kind and gentle and does not scold her mistake, instead striving to help her improve. She thinks he would make a fine professor himself if he could ever step away from his calling to knighthood.

"My instructors have warned me the same thing." Deirdre laughs but obeys, loosening her grip just a bit.

Of course, she does not need to worry about that for long when he offers her her next challenge. It feels strange to hear herself referred to as cavalry but that is something she has been working toward. She imitates his stance again and frowns slightly. The lance is naturally heavier with just one hand to grip it.

In an ideal world, he would not have seen her battle, either. She would never need enter the field of combat in any capacity, and her attentions could be to whatever she pleased: to healing or soothing, if she liked, or to avoiding the mess of it entirely. 

But that hadn't worked in the past, and it had had dire consequences not merely for her, or him, or their son. 

It had affected everyone. 

"I think that you can become more suited if you engage you shoulder," he said, instead of any of the things in his mind at that moment, demonstrating by rolling the shoulder of the arm that cradled his own lance, and the way it moved from there. "You have more strength there than elbow or wrist – those are merely to hold or guide. If you have already begun to train to be a Holy Knight, then I shouldn't see why you would not have the talent for it already." 

A quick step in, breaching the space that a more skilled combatant would have ensured with a swipe of the lance, to press his free palm to her cheek and a peck to her lips, smiling warmly. 

But he quickly returns to guiding and teaching, demonstrating with expert ease what he would like her to try. It has always impressed her how naturally he leads and inspires. She has witnessed it many times within herself but also in the hearts of others. Deirdre stands straighter, and strives to try again.

"I do not know how you do it," she admits as she thrusts her lance forward, this time with more confidence. It is one thing to train as a Holy Knight, to be recognized as such by the monastery. But it is something different entirely to ride into battle, to look her enemy in the eye and see the detail of their face as she engages in combat. No, she would much prefer remaining behind the front line.

The purple shawl, currently bunched up in his arms, give Python a strong enough hint as to the true owner of his current getup. A group of students spot him from afar at the gate for the faculty dorms and burst into laughter. He responds with the beginning of a sloppy curtsy, aborted partway through and swapped for a sarcastic salute. (And if his middle finger sticks out a bit longer than the rest in his gesture, well, he can pretend it’s a slip of the hand.)

Another little blessing he’ll take—Forsyth’s little friendship means he’s fairly sure he knows which door belongs to his target. He raps his knuckles against the wood and leans a hip against the doorframe.

“Hey, Deirdre. Long time no speak,” Python greets dryly, “Y’wouldn’t happen to be missing something, would you?”

"Did you not have anything else to wear?" She has to hold back a laugh as the absurdity of the situation begins to truly sink in. And she remembers their very first meeting. He had been dressed up then, too, the students in his class reenacting one of the worse moments of her life. "Or perhaps you are coming from another acting lesson?"

"Do you think we will see anyone fall in love tonight? I hope so. I think it would be beautiful. Magical even!"

Fall in love?

Sylvain internally scoffs at the soft-spoken words that sound over his shoulder. Sure, it would be a storybook love - something special that only happened within the pages of poetry or performances. People didn't fall in love in these situations. Lust? Absolutely.

But love? That would mean that everyone here was willing to put aside ambition, forget status. Yeah...right.

Lavender eyes grow wide as saucers and Deirdre can hear her heart break in her chest. Not because she loves him, no, quite the opposite. Her heart shatters at the mere thought of having to tell him no. She thinks about her own beloveds and what it would have done to her to be rejected by either of them.

She looks down at her feet for just a moment before raising her head to look back up at him. "I hope you can forgive me," she begins, "but I am already quite spoken for." She reaches for his hands, careful not to crush the hyacinths he holds.

"You would...take me with you?" There is a flutter of excitement in her chest as she tries to picture what it might be like to leave this planet. To no longer be alone. To have someone to talk to. To lose herself in his smile and listen to his laugh whenever she might like. "You would protect me?"

She shakes her head and takes a few more steps away. "No. I cannot. I cannot go with you or anyone. The Sith are not eradicated. They are hiding. Biding their time. Searching for me. I would put you in danger, too."

Still he reaches for her. His presence in the Force remains unwavering and steady. A safe harbor in the storm of fear that surrounds her. She looks at his offered hand a few moments before reaching out her own and taking shaky steps toward him until their hands meet.

Though his hand lowered and the line of his mouth and brow turned to a thoughtful expression, the timbre of his voice remained nonetheless playful and undissuaded. He brought a knuckle to his chin in thought and turned away for a moment, glancing about the emptiness of the planet that surrounded them, the bubble of the bog the only thing this girl - Deirdre, she had said her name was Deirdre - had for company.

Sigurd nudged at a branch with his boot, and shook his head as though disappointed when it sunk into the waters without snag or fuss, tsking gently when he turned back to face the girl before him.

"Well, I am afraid that puts me into a bit of a conundrum. You see, if the Sith are indeed not eradicated, as you say, then I surely could not leave you here by your lonesome, simply for them to come and collect you." Sigurd shook his head again, emphatic; "No, I'm afraid that I would have to stay, in that case, and find them eradicated by myself."

Here, his fingers rested on the hilt of his lightsaber, and one corner of his lips lifted, lighting his face up in a cocky and boyish expression. "It would be quite difficult, by my lonesome, but I suppose if that is the only way to do it…"

Trailing off, almost wistfully, he sighed, then lifted his gaze to the girl again. "Unless of course, you chose to come with me - and you could find yourself under the protection of my company in the Jedi Order."

"You do not believe me, do you?" If he did, she does not think it would be so easy for him to laugh. She would miss his laugh.

Deirdre shudders and shrinks into herself when he asks if she has felt them. Reaching out, opening herself up to the Force around her is dangerous. Of course, that does not mean she has never done it. There have been times when the temptation, the need to feel some sort of connection, have been too strong to ignore.

"I have," she admits cautiously, eyes fixed firmly on the hand that rests at the hilt of his light saber. "It was faint once but it has grown stronger."

She grows silent as she considers his offer again, turning away from him to gaze out upon the swampy planet she has called home all eighteen years of her life. She has never known anything else. Looking out at the stars and imagining herself out there among them has only ever been a dream. But so has meeting anyone else and here she is still engaged with this Jedi.

"It might be exciting to witness something mysterious while we are out here together."

Deirdre smiles at Tine. She will not promise to forget what was said. She has spent far too many years of her life forgetting. Now, she holds onto every moment, no matter how small. The memories are precious to her. But she does refrain from acknowledging it further, even if she would like to agree and say she's heard something similar.

"Come." She reaches for Tine's hand and gives it a squeeze before pulling her forward, quickening her pace. "I can see a clearing ahead. That must be it!"

As if erasing all the times she had been deemed unworthy of presence.

A disgusting yet sincere joy floods her veins. She is here; she has been deemed deserving of being here.

She smiles to herself as she's led along towards the rising heat.

No clear threats, it seems, for now.

She shouldn't let her guard down so quickly.

stillll….

She touches the water lightly

yep it is indeed salty.

One way in which this world sees fit to fall in line with her expectations.

"Please don't wait for me then, I uhhh."

She blanks why is she hesitating now? Is it just embarrassment over her silly motive for coming here?

"… stil

want to stretch my legs a little bit."

Deirdre does not quite understand Tine's hesitance but she does not question it or point it out. Ideally, she just wants to see her be able to relax a little bit. That is why they are here, after all. A nice relaxing soak!

Deirdre does not match the hesitation, wasting little time sinking into the gloriously hot water. It is as lovely as she had hoped and a sigh escapes her lips as she sinks down to her chin. Silvery curls fan out around her and she is reminded of the enormous bathtub she had sought refuge in after the Ethereal Ball. She likes this better, she thinks, surrounded by trees rather than tiled walls.

She squeaks out in the middle of another useless stretch.

There hadn't been any concerning activity around them. Only a bird or two so far; the only ghost is Empress Deirdre herself.

That's why she hesitates; she's warm and kind in a way she's hardly gotten to experience.

She's exactly who Tine wished she was.

The water is a shock, not really due to temperature; the surroundings are already quite warm, it's just.

"This is really nice."

She speaks out the obvious as she pins up her hair high, not keen on getting sick on their way back.

"Haunted or not, I can't believe no one else comes here.

"It is nicer with company. It is nicer with you."

She watches Tine curiously, trying to figure out what she might mean. Has she experience with monsters? Or have crowds been too unkind to her?