He sighs softly when she steps away from him. The apology is noted though he's far more interested in what words would be coming after that. Instead, she seems to be busying herself, likely to ground herself before she can speak freely. He keeps his hands at his sides, no matter how much they ached to hold her, and watches as she speaks with their guard, seemingly settles in to clean.
A slow nod as she starts to explain. If she was willing to speak now then he would listen for however long she needed to tell her story, as difficult as it clearly was. It was a part of her life he needed to know, wanted to know.
She nods, hovering on that taken in breathe, once her fingers are clean, she takes up the washcloth that had been given to her as well to let it soak in. Dropping it with a splash, turning it over to soak it through before she lifts it to squeeze off the excess water. Her wet, clean fingers move up to her hair, to push it out of her way as she begins at her neck, in slow strokes, beginning to clean the muck away.
"I did not know it then, but he was 900 years old."
She has heard his own people talk of Gods and Magic, the dismissive tone of any theism, and it had not bothered her. For them, it was a question of faith - but there was no faith when she knew such things. Such seemingly impossible thing. Perhaps now, after all these years, the way she could so easily laugh off the questions about her Gods being real. "He had fought in the days of King Arthur, and when others took up an eternal fight in England, he had left, to wander the world. Until the summer of that year, he walked into my husband's court."
"Nine hundred...?" What? His eyes widen as he studies her carefully, searching for any signs that she had misspoken or he had misheard her. No, that was what she said and meant.
He had told her he'd believe her. He had proof that something was... strange from the moment they had met, with her so far from time and place. Again now, he had seen her survive something no one should have. And now she speaks of someone who had lived for centuries, far beyond what anyone has now with the aid of genetic modifications and illegal practices.
"Did he say why he came to your kingdom?"
I never tagged this back so guess what I'm doing now
To that, Lakshmi can do not much more than shake her head. Because even after all these years, she remembered Bors face well, but that did not mean she had come to understand the man even now.
"No. He never said. I suspect at his age, he was tired of explaining things, so he simply didn't."
She can't in the end, offer much more than that.
"I did not know who he was, it didn't matter. He fought by my side, for my country. But when he finally died. He passed it on to me."
She fishes it out, then. That little silver phial. Perhaps Duv would find it a novelty, now. A piece of ancient history, perfectly preserved around her neck. Swinging pendulum like from her fingers.
"It is called the Blackwater. Some call it the holy grail. An immortal elixir. Those who drink it, do not age, they heal all wounds, with just one sip, every day, once a day, you may live for eternity."
Her eyes lower, he knows - the next bit, about the war. About what she had lost, how... How she had been forced to leave as her homeland burned. But here was the part she had always brushed over, "I was shot, through the heart." her hand hovers, just over it. he has seen that scar on her bare body, he has kissed that scar, breathed against it when he held her tightly. how many times, had he wondered about it? He was kind enough never to ask. "I had to choose. Whether I would die, pass on, or live and fight again." a swallow, a dry little laugh. "I think you know what is in my nature."
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A slow nod as she starts to explain. If she was willing to speak now then he would listen for however long she needed to tell her story, as difficult as it clearly was. It was a part of her life he needed to know, wanted to know.
"As long as you need," he murmurs.
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"I did not know it then, but he was 900 years old."
She has heard his own people talk of Gods and Magic, the dismissive tone of any theism, and it had not bothered her. For them, it was a question of faith - but there was no faith when she knew such things. Such seemingly impossible thing. Perhaps now, after all these years, the way she could so easily laugh off the questions about her Gods being real. "He had fought in the days of King Arthur, and when others took up an eternal fight in England, he had left, to wander the world. Until the summer of that year, he walked into my husband's court."
no subject
He had told her he'd believe her. He had proof that something was... strange from the moment they had met, with her so far from time and place. Again now, he had seen her survive something no one should have. And now she speaks of someone who had lived for centuries, far beyond what anyone has now with the aid of genetic modifications and illegal practices.
"Did he say why he came to your kingdom?"
I never tagged this back so guess what I'm doing now
"No. He never said. I suspect at his age, he was tired of explaining things, so he simply didn't."
She can't in the end, offer much more than that.
"I did not know who he was, it didn't matter. He fought by my side, for my country. But when he finally died. He passed it on to me."
She fishes it out, then. That little silver phial. Perhaps Duv would find it a novelty, now. A piece of ancient history, perfectly preserved around her neck. Swinging pendulum like from her fingers.
"It is called the Blackwater. Some call it the holy grail. An immortal elixir. Those who drink it, do not age, they heal all wounds, with just one sip, every day, once a day, you may live for eternity."
Her eyes lower, he knows - the next bit, about the war. About what she had lost, how... How she had been forced to leave as her homeland burned. But here was the part she had always brushed over, "I was shot, through the heart." her hand hovers, just over it. he has seen that scar on her bare body, he has kissed that scar, breathed against it when he held her tightly. how many times, had he wondered about it? He was kind enough never to ask. "I had to choose. Whether I would die, pass on, or live and fight again." a swallow, a dry little laugh. "I think you know what is in my nature."
Giving up had never been a choice she made.