Supposedly Secretly Sapphic

>thread is from 13 years ago

“I don’t want your magic, your blood, or any of that. I want you. Is that really so hard to believe?”

My eyes misted.

“What’s there to even want?” I sank against the wall. “I’ve been nothing but cold to you. I took your magic away and almost killed you. Now it’s my fault the Sickness can hit you at any moment…”

“And you still care enough to give me your blood and keep me here with you.” Jessie placed her hand on my chest. “Just be honest, Lara. Do you want me here, or not?”

“I…” I pressed my hand over hers, sensing my heartbeat through her fingers. Words failed, so I wrapped my arms around her. Jessie stumbled, but swiftly she returned my embrace, and my tears spilled into her shoulder.

“Don’t leave,” I whispered. “Please don’t leave."

-Lahara and Jessie finally reconcile in The Sorceror's Mercy

This is hands down my favourite scene in the series, Lahara finally admits what she truly wants and what terrifies her, and Jessie promises to be there for her, agghhh so adorable!

I rolled aside on the bed, meeting Wist's dark eyes. Her hair was tousled from sleep, her T-shirt crinkled under her ribs.

"Go ahead."

Wist remained silent for a while. Her gaze locked onto the bond thread on her wrist. As if having second thoughts.

"Are you happy?"

I arched a brow. "What brought this on?"

"Just answer, please."

I hitched myself onto my elbow, facing her. She'd been in a thoughtful mood these last few nights, I supposed this was the culmination.

"You sent me to prison for seven years," I said. "Since then, I've had my eye stabbed out, an unknown entity take up residence that periodically wants to chomp you from the inside out, felt our bond snap like a brittle twig, amongst other things."

"So not really, then."

I held her jaw.

"I wasn't finished. Through all of that I've learned more about myself, about you, about us. I've come up with healer tricks no-one in Osmanthus could dream of. I've know terror and heartache and betrayal, and freedom and joy and laughter. There's still so much out there in the world I want to discover, pick apart, understand, and I get to go on that path with you. You're asking if I'm happy?" I brushed my thumb over her cheekbone. "I'm ecstatic."

Wist gave no outward response, but a tingle ran through our bond.

I know it's a dream. Wist wouldn't dare start playing with taboos again, but every detail is frighteningly accurate, down to the insubstantial rails of the water tower a few feet in front of my nose. The wind tousles my hair, turning my ears cold, and when I peer down, my eyes revolt and I spring back against the wall, my hand against my chest. As if it would do anything to help my heart rattling against the cage of my ribs.

It's a long way down, so long I can't really see the bottom, but I don't need to see to know what's waiting.

I raise a shaking hand to my right eye, the prosthesis absent. When I catch sight of the back of my knuckles, inky streaks match the pattern of my veins.

A blink, and they start to spread. I don't sense any pain, but an intense chill runs up my arm, seeping straight to the back of my right eye. The Void's cavernous maw opens up, and I feel myself slipping. The world shimmers around me like a mirage, as if it will disappear along with me.

There's nothing to hold onto, and I sink to my knees. I try to find something, anything to grasp- the distant caw of crows, the scent of the distant river, the most hurtful memories that stick inside me like unpruned thorns...

My bond.

Wist!

I scream her name, a resonant echo, and then a hand comes to my shoulder. Fingertips graze my neck, lightly scritching behind my left ear, but I don't have the strength to look up.

And then I jerk awake.

I'm sprawled in a strange bed, water-lights glistening above me. My breathing and blanket's all tangled, and Wist lies at my side. Her fingers keep stroking behind my ear, her shoulder pressed close to my cheek. Her hair's gone long again, returned to black, and it coils around my wrist, trying to soothe.

It's alright. I heard you.

I want to weep, but there's no tears to shed. Like a bucket tossed into a dry well, there's only dust and emptiness. The Void at the back of my eye, engorged from Ashtereth, feels like it's engulfed my emotions too. I feel so...numb.

I try to speak, but my voice fails.

"You were calling for me," Wist murmurs. She still hasn't let up on her touches, and I crumple against her.

Wist...

What's happening to me?

Wist doesn't answer straight away. Either she truly doesn't know, or she's trying to find a way to let me down gently.

"It'll pass," she says at last. "You still need rest."

The drop from the Bittercress tower surges to the forefront of my mind, and my stomach recoils.

I don't want to.

Wist drapes her arm over me, pressing her lips to my forehead.

I'm not going anywhere.

A sudden wave of tiredness washes over, and I curl into the crook of her neck. It feels like pieces of myself are breaking and reforming not quite right, like the Void is gnawing and then hacking up bits of me that aren't to its taste.

"Where's your partner?" she asked.

"She'll be down shortly," Wist said, ordering a drink of her own.

"Isn't she always," Lear chortled, taking a sip. Danver, seated behind her, made a face as if she'd eaten a raw lemon. "Aren't you meant to escort her everywhere?"

"So long as she doesn't leave the hotel premises, she's allowed to walk freely," Wist explained.

Danver grumbled under her breath, fingering the condensation on her tumbler of water and looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.

I watched the three of them from the other side of the bar. I hadn't approached just yet; despite this being my idea, my legs weren't as steady as I'd have liked, and even the walk from the elevator to the restaurant had drained me. Wist of course couldn't keep her worry trickling through our bond, but she knew better than to offer an arm of support. There was nothing I hated more than being coddled, and the Void had left me much too antsy to swallow my pride this time.

Eventually, after Wist was half-way through her second drink, I managed to casually join them. Lear tried not too peer too closely, but I knew I still carried that haggard look since returning from Ashtereth. Danver remained indifferent.

"Sorry I'm late." I perched straight onto Wist's lap, stealing a sip of her drink. "Ugh, you asked for doubles, didn't you?"

Wist responded by gripping my sides and gently plonking me onto the stool in front of her. In return I deliberately leant my elbow on her thigh, and Lear chuckled.

"So professional," Danver muttered, adjusting her glasses.

"I'm the epitome of competence." I folded my arms, slouching against Wist. "I just don't feel the need to show it all the time."

"You never show it." Danver wiped the corner of her mouth with a paper napkin.

"Now, now, we're supposed to be taking it easy." Lear traced a finger around her empty cocktail glass. "It's just like old times. Minus some vorpal mishaps."

"I'm glad you could make it," I said. "I expected you'd have been snapped up for another errand already."

"Well, you know what it is to have your reputation proceed you, Magebre..."

"Hey!" I clamped my hand over her mouth before she could finish. "Are you trying to get me in trouble?"

"Like you need any help in that department," Danver snorted.

I retorted in quiet Jacian, and Danver almost fell off her stool. Her face had blossomed red, and Lear held a hand to her mouth, struggling to contain her giggling. Poor Wist could only arch a brow in confusion. I gave a hurried translation through our bond, and her amused hum rang back in answer.

"You got me there, Agent BB," Lear said at last, managing to breathe somewhat normally. "Then again, I suppose even the great Kraken finds it a challenge, eh?"

"Oh please." I waved my hand, dismissive. "Wist's very experienced. Of course she always know where to find her Clematis."

Danver choked into her glass, spewing water, and Lear let out an uncontrollable guffaw. Even Wist cracked the tiniest hint of a smile, and I grinned in triumph. Another one to add to the tally.

"You're too much, Clem." Wist draped her arm around me.

"And you wouldn't have me any other way, hmm?" I fluttered my eyelashes up at her.

I'll have you any way I want.

Now it was my turn to blush. Wist played with the ends of my hair, completely straight-faced. She was in a playful mood.

"What?" Lear glanced between us. "In polite company, too? Don't they teach you bond etiquette on the continent?"

"I'll have you know Wist always carries the utmost respect for her bondmate and would never stoop to such lewdness," I answered.

"Mm-hmm." Lear replaced her cocktail with a fresh one. She raised it up. "Then here's to our benevolent Kraken, this patronless artist, and the pair of delightful operators somehow stuck with us."

Danver rolled her eyes, refusing to lift her glass, but Wist and I clinked ours together.

"They've let you off the hook tomorrow, right?" Lear faced Wist, who gave a curt nod. "'Cause there's something I want to show you. You too, BB."

"Oh?" I asked.

"Think of it as a double date," Lear smirked. "A scenic monorail ride, a romantic cruise..."

"Something tells me there's more to it than that."

Her lips were soft, warm, and more than a welcome surprise. I didn't open my eye, but she knew I awake.

It's not even my birthday, I thought at her tiredly.

Wist's fingertips curled around my jaw, and she pulled away onto her pillow. Her bone-deep weariness seeped through our bond, practically unchanged from when we'd gone to bed. Seemed I hadn't been the one struck with nightmares last night.

She stroked the side of my cheek, until I caught her hand.

Something on your mind? Not that I'm complaining about all the attention, of course.

Wist sighed. "Just a bad dream."

"Unusual for you." Now I did open my eye, playing with a loose thread on her pyjama top. It was still dark outside, though I had no idea what time.

Wist curled closer, as if afraid I would disappear there and then.

We were in the church again. Your face was covered in blood. I held you and tried to wake you, but you'd stopped breathing.

You would too, the way you hug.

Wist didn't appreciate my jab. She lay half-frozen, almost a statue herself, until I nipped her earlobe. She blinked, and I rolled away from her, exposing my back. I tugged her arm, so it covered me like a blanket, pressing her palm over my chest, her cheek lolling between my shoulder-blades.

Feel that? That's me, alive, right here. Nothing to worry about.

"Nothing to worry about," Wist whispered.

She nuzzled close, and I could hear her quietly counting my breaths through our bond. When she got to seventy-four, exhaution caught up with her, and I ran my thumb over the back of her hand. I knew Wist carried each and every one of our near misses to heart, but this was the first time it had snuck up in her dreams.

"So where's this one from?"

Wist and I were lying on a blanket in her planterium. She had her hands behind her head, watching the constellations above, whereas I was on my belly, my left arm pillowing my head. I'd gotten bored and unbuttoned her flannel shirt, and now I was tracing the numerous scars on her abdomen with my finger.

The one that held my current fascination was on her lower right, above the crest of her hip, shaped like a tiny cross. She didn't show any reaction, but I felt a slight ticklish sensation through our bond.

"I had an ovarian torsion while you were in prison," she said. "They had to remove it. But after..." She trailed off, referring to the night she'd gone berserk and turned half her organs into leeching tendrils. "...after that, they replaced it anyway."

"Lucky you." I moved onto the jagged white line just beneath her ribs. "And this?"

"Your gift from Bittercress, with that knife."

"Ah, memories." I planted a soft kiss there, and Wist couldn't hide her shiver. I traced my fingertips down again, this time coming across the blueish tinted mark above her naval. "This one's from Datura Gray, right?"

"Mmhmm."

Another mark crested the top of her right hip, just visible about the waistband of her jeans, and I prodded it.

"What about this?"

"Vorpal beast clawed me when I was in our old world," Wist explained. "It bit me, too."

She offered her right forearm, and though it was extremely faint, I could just about see a symmetrical crescent of teeth marks.

Having run out of scars to comment on, I flopped against her bare stomach, her hand coming to rest in my hair. We remained silent for a while, and I pouted.

"What, not going to ask me about mine?" I playfully whined.

Wist stilled. "I already know who made the worst one."

I rolled my eye. "Oh come on, you're not still beating yourself up over my eye? It wasn't you, it was Larkspur."

"It was my magic."

"And her tacky hairpins." I flicked her belly. "Besides, it's worked out well, hasn't it? I've got an eldrich abomination taken up residence, and you've given me a portable protection device with more complicated magic than anyone could dream of."

"When you don't decide to rip them out."