mahalakshmi | [ open ] i.

It was a scene he had seen time and time again. One he often played a part in. The noble that had 'suffered' at the hands of another was fortunate they had not been cut down as repayment for what they forced on others. Too many abused their positions. The small bits of power they were given, while chained like the rest of them, caused a madness to overtake them. The trial would have gone far worse for the woman if the man had died, but Solas would have seen it as an act of justice.

He took no joy in appearing when her fate was decided for her. The day rang clearly in his mind as he watched her stand proudly. So that fierceness she displayed had not been a breaking point reached. He stands at Mythal's side and barely holds back a snarl when Elgar'nan's own speaks up. This could be the last he sees of her. She would not be the first bright flame the Evanuris has snuffed out long before its time. He steals one last, curious look at her as she is taken away and steels himself for what is to come next. Her fate was merely one of many to be decided today.

Elgar'nan's visits were far too frequent for Solas' liking, but that concern was one easily ignored by Mythal. It was a disruption they would bear for however long the pair saw it necessary and he stood near to dispel any tensions that arose between the Elgar'nan's company and their hosts.

It's the light catching in her hair that he sees first. The second, is the vallaslin she now bore. She had survived so far then and the Evanuris had seen fit to force her to accompany him here. He lets out a small sigh of annoyance and steps towards her. The unique pain that came with the branding of Elgar'nan's slaves was one he was unfortunately familiar with. No doubt the Evanuris had seen fit for her to manage it herself without the aid of someone who could see.

"I can ease the pain if it is unbearable," he offers once he is near, speaking plainly.

The voice makes her flinch, turning into the wall she rested her head on. A voice that was too close, and gingerly, her eyes only half opened, a thin gaze that was turned down. More because that was all she could manage, rather than what she would do by herself. It let her see - feet. Helpful, and her mouth pulls a little for it. Someone standing in front of her, not able to know anything else apart from the warm voice that offered a kindness she did not expect.

She had been left alone aside from the jostling of the others, the hazing that inevitably went into a new recruit to the ranks. Shoving, almost tripping her, putting things just out of her limited sight. Ordering her to do things that were harder for her present state. One or two had been kinder. Mercy was that her weapons had been taken from her that she didn't respond in the way that apparently came easier.

But as her sharp reaction settled, she let out her breath, turning back that little. Desperate, looking for something to understand it all. The only respite she had found was pressing her face into the cool walls to take the heat off. Hard as it was not to grind herself into it. Itch away the markings. Turn her face into a bloodied mess. Turn those beautiful, fine markings, into stains between scratches.

Instead, she swallows, driving that need, her fingers curling in tightly against her side. No, Lakshmi. "Shouldn't I endure it? To show my devotion?"

It's flat, hardly meant. That she is unhappy, couldn't be more obvious.

Ah, yes. Stubborn and bitter, and with all the right reasons to be. Those that ruled in such a way squandered what they had with their ruthlessness. What good did it have to force one to go through this? It was pointless cruelty that would only prolong her current state without the proper attention being given to her recovery. He lets out a small sigh.

"One would argue you are of no use to anyone in your current state," he counters and offers her his hand. "There is no reason to suffer needlessly."

No matter what Elgar'nan and his most devoted might believe.

She considers it - help, here? A week ago, she was no one, just another servant, a servant to servants, no less. Yet here she was, in the home of Mythal, speaking to one of her personal attendants.

It isn't, simply, put, what she expects. But she is too naive to even wonder if she shouldn't trust him. Gingerly, her hand lifts, the shake of unsureness, he was a dull shape against her half-closed eyes, but she looks for his hand. The help that he offered.

That once she finds, she puts her hand to the back of his. Light only held by the tips of her fingers. Directing it upward. Looking for the coolness there, too, up and up until she can direct him to her face. Both her hands now, like a prayer, open palms against the back of his knuckles so she could cup his hand to her cheek. Her mouth opening in a soft breath against his skin, lips soft. She missed her Kashi so, so terribly. "Please. Before I scratch my face to scars."

He's patient as he waits for her to feel him out. Her hands on his, he follows her guidance and lets magic build in his fingertips. With his hand near her cheek, the magic flows from him to her. The cooling sensation spreads as he attempts to alleviate what he can. A full healing would leave her with far too many questions to answer when she returned to Elgar'nan, but he could numb and ease the pain.

"If you would like it attended to further, I can bring you to our healers for medicine," he offers absently. "They have a poultice that will help with the itching."

And if they were clever about it, they could hide it about her person to use later once she returned to her master's domain.

She gasps softly as he does, pulling thinly in, her chest aching as the relief washes over her in sudden absence. Resigned as she had been, she could weep for the first kind word since her world had fallen apart. It takes the heat out of it, and eyes sting with it, wet against lashes that she shuts completely.

Rather, her hand turns into his hold in a shameless press of appreciation. Her thick, dark hair falling over to hide both her face and his contact away as it slips over her shoulders. Worried to lose this scrap of kindness, the only respite she'd been offered, by anyone. "I should not." It's mournful. "But I would be glad to know your name."

If he minded it, he does not show it, instead allowing her to press into his hand as she wants. Has she had time to mourn what she has lost? She has yet to even heal from the physical wounds of it. The rest, would take even longer.

His magic continues in a slow flow. Light, but enough. The last she needs is for this to overwhelm her, to overtake what little of her senses she has left to her.

"Solas," he supplies readily. "I would be glad to know yours as well, if you wished to share it."

"Ma-" No, they had taken that too. Stolen it away because as a servant of Elgar'nan she could never be as plain as childhood nicknames. "Lakshmi."

The itch faded, at long last, little but surely. Enough that she could blink, open her eyes a bit further without it aggravating it further. Blinking quickly, straining against the light that she could finally open her eyes to look up at him. Gold and bright against her brown skin. "I am Lakshmi."

It softens, then a little - "You were there. At the trial. I saw you."

"Lakshmi," he repeats. Hopefully he's not the first to use her name since this fate has befallen her, but he knows the power inherent in hearing something so simple. She had not lost all her agency, no matter what they might tell her.

He meets her gaze and lets his magic linger until she wishes for him to stop.

"I was there when you were brought in, as well. I am sorry I could not do more." For what little that meant now.

"There was nothing you could do." It's laughed, her face falling out of his hands. Out of his so easily given kindness. "I did this by my own hands. I ought to face the consequences for that."

Her eyes lower again, but this time it is to hide the knit in her brow as something shapes. "But I do not regret it. So perhaps, it is a punishment I deserve." Branded, taken away from everything she knew, taken away from the world which cared about her - to those that would kill each other over the smallest slight.

"There are many who would thank you for your actions if they were allowed," he remarks off handedly. "You bear the consequences, but that is not all that has come of this."

It was an impact far from either of them now. One she would do well to not forget as she went through this. His hand falls away from her and he rests his hands behind his back as he watches her.

"For all it has cost me, I do not think I should agree with you." The pain sits, so close against her skin. Fills her voice the pain relieved for the time being, the itch abated. It would return, no doubt.

"But..." She swallows, her jaw setting when she looks back up - her gaze hard, flat. The same refusal to diminish herself. Still not beautiful, but still lean, quick and hard. "He shouldn't have touched her. He shouldn't have. I always told her I never would let anyone hurt her. She is the only one I want to hear from." It breaks, pain that bubbles up and up and up. "But they say I cannot see her. For what I did."

Edited 2018-05-20 09:46 (UTC)

"No, he shouldn't have," he repeats without hesitation. But it is what happened, and Lakshmi did what she believed she needed to. There's no judgment as he regards her. That had already been passed and she would live with it the rest of her years.

"I do not have many dealings where you once resided, but if I happen upon her..." He shrugs and lets his words trail off, implication clear. If he managed to hear from Kashi and could see Lakshmi again, he would share what he learned. It was the most he could offer. He lets his words linger in the air around them for a moment longer before he gestures in offering, "I was about to eat, if you would like to join me."

"I would... like that." Tentative, unsure, her fellow servants of Elgar'nan were hard men and women. They offered no kindnesses, offered no respite to someone new. Especially not to someone who cared enough to cut a man down in her temper. Always too much Lakshmi, you need to learn to curb it some or it will get you in trouble.

Too late.

She rises when calls her to follow. Readjusting the uniform to set about her properly, tugging the long tunic into place with stiff hands. Dropping her gaze once more, though this was on behalf of the fact she hadn't meant to have any respite. Best to still look like she was still in pain, still recovering. Not half wrong. The painful heat on her face had abated, but it still did not make it easy to open her eyes fully for any length of time. The pain would return in some time. "I would like that." Her hand reaches out, fingers light, looking for his to guide her.

He accepts her hand and offers his arm should she want to be escorted more formally. There were enough inner twists and turns of Mythal's temple to confuse those that invaded that it would be far easier than trying to verbally guide her. Whether Elgar'nan would be annoyed that Solas was taking such liberties was beyond his concerns. None of his other servants would dear stop Solas with his position and would assume he had business with her. He had been present at her trial.

"There are a few steps here," he warns as he leads them up into the halls. As he continues speaking, there's a touch of concern in his next question, "Have you been able to eat today?"

Whether she's been allowed or her injuries have kept her from doing so. Thankfully those would heal with time.

No doubt, Elgar'nan would. She was a prize chattel, for the moment. Time would tell if it continued to be so, if he kept her at close range after it was done. Luck was so far, he only had eyes for Mythal. No need to look elsewhere. But he regarded her more like a new piece of furniture. Spoke of he was going to train her, make her strong. No doubt make his own name greater off of her. He wouldn't want anyone meddling in his particular plans for her.

That thought alone made it easy for her to take his arm in return. Looping through tentatively but holding fast. Her fingers curling up around into the material of his sleeve to keep hold.

"Only a simple amount." Hard to want to eat, at the moment. Slowed a little, as she navigates the stairs one by one. But the simplest answer: "I would definitely like to eat."

He was said to be the best, this Captain Naismith.

That was probably why it took her so long to find him - as it turned out. He was quick and clever. A hard man to track down. But she doesn't have a choice, she must find him. She must. Though whether her doing so was purely down to her ability tracking him, or him following the word that someone was looking for him - didn't matter. Because to a certain degree, discreet.

After all, if word got out the Queen of Jhansi was trawling through mercenary rings looking for help - would be disastrous, to say the least. Her enemies would pounce when she was too far away to call for help. Had to be done, and had to be done fast. She doesn't have time, her people don't have the time. She must find him, ensure his services to her, and not turn back until she wins.

So when she gets word that she's found him - it's a palatable relief. Every day has been too long. She prepares as best as she can - it's been a long time since her meetings were anything but barked orders in back rooms, though this one isn't going to be much more. In fact, sneaking in through his rooms, in the dead of night on Earth of all places is... well, it isn't ideal. But it would have to do, moving through shadows the years of war had taught her to do, at least meant she wasn't likely to get shot. Her blaster at her side, though she hoped she wouldn't have to use it, as she hauled herself up through back windows to get into the build where he was staying. She didn't want to alert his men - or anyone else for that matter. So much of this depended entirely on that secrecy.

It makes her quiet as she slides the window open where he's sleeping - but she doesn't want to startle him into shooting her, so she lets her feet fall louder, heavier. As she goes from that bathroom it looked like - in the bedroom. A woman armoured, wearing the blaster for sensibility, and the sword for honour's sake, at the other. Hard-eyed, and sharp. Waits, as she creeps into his room - her reports said he would be here at this time, so there was nothing else but to wait and see.

With her arm in his, he walks tall with her at his side. Those in Mythal's service would recognize this for what it was, extending a hand to someone who needed it. Each Evanuris governed their own to their whims and those follies came with harsh prices at times. This was the least that could be offered to Lakshmi.

"There will be enough for you to have your fill," he remarks evenly. "Do you know how long your master intends to stay?" And how long she will be here, in turn.

As they walk, he gives warning when they approach anything that may cause her to trip. He nods in greeting at those they pass and no one moves to stop them.

That - the flush works up her face. The others, they'd whispered why Elgar'nan had come here. She flusters, embarrassed, fumbling for what she had been told in rather more crasser terms. The teasing they'd given her when she hadn't understood the first time. Tugging at the end of her hair and whispering awful things to help her catch up with why they were visiting today.

"I do not... until they have had enough of each other's company."

Which is blurted out, as pleasant as she can. Clearing her throat as they walk, taking her steps slowly, and carefully. That was at least easier to do.

Admiral Naismith, please. Although Captain Vorkosigan has a hell of a ring to it.

The little Admiral is, indeed, where the intel said he would be. Asleep in the bed of his hotel room, with an androgynous mercenary patrolling the halls at a leisurely pace. They don't expect trouble before this meeting, given how much of a backwater Earth is under normal circumstances; hell, it keeps Miles far away from the Cetagandans, who would love to have his head about now. Dagoola is still a bright memory for both parties ...

It's that memory that haunts him now, makes him toss and turn in his sleep. The gray hellscape - his daring escape - the shuttles lifting, with Miles just a fraction of a second too late to keep her from plummeting out the open bay -

Miles shudders into wakefulness with a gasp. Not even realizing he has a visitor in his room, though it may very well look like Lakshmi is the one who woke him. He reaches for a gorgeous jeweled dagger that he keeps under his pillow, gripping it in trembling hands. And then - only then does he realize there's a woman in the room with him. He jolts bodily as he takes her in; it takes another moment to connect her face with the intel his team had gathered. Even more beautiful in person, he thinks, but he can't think about that right now...

"Good morning," he says with a little bow. Despite how hard his heart is pounding, he attempts to look smooth and aristocratic. The gesture comes naturally to him, at least, and it may even be convincing. "Couldn't wait for our meeting, eh?"

For a moment, he looks so much easier, in sleep. Looks far away, like sleeping people always did. A shape male in the moonlight coming in through windows and her mouth opens on a hum. It had been so long since she has rested anywhere much at all. Would it be awful, to want to find a nice bed to lay her head for once?

But when he moved, she started back. Kept herself half in the shadows of the room, as she watched him - like it was impossible to watch anything else right now. They had said he was short, but they said nothing of how frail he seemed, all bones that she watched as he moved. Not ill, just... lean. Against her worn, hard hands, he might just break. But: it didn't mean much of anything to her, as long as he was skilled, she reminded herself. He moved well enough.

Though when he moves, bows, she relents in her guard. Moving into the half stretch of moonlight to let herself be seen. Eyes bright, blinking - but they don't look away from him. She stayed fixed on him, whether he was predator or prey yet, she could not decide.

"You know me?"

Incredibly lean, slight of body and stature both. Miles’ strength certainly doesn’t spring from his physical form. In spite of it, perhaps, but any benefit has been mental and not physical. He looks older than his actual age of 27, an image he encourages as part of his Admiral Naismith mantle. After seeing that she isn’t a threat just yet, Miles slowly lets the dagger drop. And. Um. Tucks it back under his pillow. If he leaves it out too long she might recognize it, and that would be the end of this whole charade right then and there.

“Naturally,” he says. Waving for her to sit in a chair next to his bed, as if they were in a conference room and not his bedroom. He’s still under the covers, every bit the little Admiral even from bed. Why not meet here? He’ll treat her with the same respect either way. “We came here at your behest. And I only do that After thoroughly researching the job at hand.” Also the requester- and he’s seen quite a bit of information about her, oh yes. Enough to intrigue him well past whatever funds (meager or otherwise) she could offer.

She stays quiet after he speaks. Regarding it purposefully, was it a trap? It could be. Of course, it always could be. But, it was too late for that now, she had done her best to stop the worst happening. There was nothing more now than to trust. With that decided, at long last her eyes lower. Her hands tapping at the hook up to her comms that was around her throat. Murmuring in soft Hindi that she was safe, made contact. The Admiral was here.

With that done she moves closer to the chair he offers. Every bit as serious about it as he was. Long steps before she sits, hesitantly, eyeing the room still. One strange noise might just send her spooked, and not for no reason. There was no limitation to the reach of the United Corporation. Nowhere they didn't have someone working for them, nowhere they cared about flouting the laws in the effort to eliminate their enemies.

"I apologise for meeting in this manner, but I could not be sure until I saw you for myself. They seek to kill me even now. I did not want to put either of our lives at undue risk." Sitting down, she holds herself composed. She is a soldier, but she was first and foremost Queen, and it's there: in the slide from one role into another. Her face stays turned up, her eyes lowered back to watching him. Fixing him like she means to cut his shape exactly out in those sheets.

Her breath draws in, "I am the Queen of Jhansi, Rani Lakshmi Bai." Which, he knew her. That was that then. "I come, not for myself, but for my people in a request for you and your men to fight in my name." He was Betan, that's what they said. Prone to their sensibilities. She found it hard to muddle out, at times, compared to the strict rules of honour and rank she had been raised too. Frowning, as she went on - unsure if it was right, but there it was, regardless. "I cannot pay you in advance. Nor until the blockade is broken. But should we prevail, I have it upon my clan's honour that you will be paid."

Was she--?

He barely manages to muffle his laugh. It had been a long time since he had seen someone become flustered from what Mythal and Elgar'nan chose to do in their time together. A small amusement to detract from his annoyance that it happened at all. They all would do better if Elgar'nan kept far from here, but that was far from an option and Lakshmi would not be here where she could get some treatment.

"That is one way to put it. You would be thankful to know you cannot hear anything, should you find yourself passing by their room." Though with how flushed she appears, he has a feeling she will stay far, far away.

"I am glad that they.... Enjoy each other as company."

It was one thing, when she was no body. To hear about how those far beyond her got up too. Kashi had loved whispering about it and the other servants had embellished gleefully. But it was another to be standing in the room, appreciated furniture that was second to how she could see them look at each other.

"It isn't my business of course." which is as firm as she can manage, but mildly pleading. She'll set alight if she squirmed any more in embarrassment.

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