"Cut off," and with a flourish, and a faint clink of her chains, Doki brandishes her palm at her brother, "this?"
Her hand. The shard, by the way, is still there. It hasn't gone away, no matter how hard Doki has wished it would, staring fervently at her hand while her brother and their jailers slept nearby, while horses whickered and dreamed horse-dreams and the world around them teemed with night noises. The green glow that she was told to expect, isn't there. The shard is dull, its shine only what comes natural from its form. Someday that glow will be there, when some great sky vagina opens up and spits out a birthing of slimy demons, and then Yevdokiya, of all people, will be the hero. She will wave her hand at the rift and it will close. Wow, Yevdokiya! Can you stay forever?
But she doesn't want to stay forever. There is nowhere she has ever wanted to stay forever. There is no one besides her dumb sweet Alek that she's ever wanted to stay with, forever. From the Inquisition and its bastard child, Riftwatch: Doki wants out.
Dumb sweet Aleksei is looking at her over stew and campfire and no one but Doki can read the concern on him. Little things. The faint line at the left side of his mouth. The hitch of his eyebrows. Stop looking at me like that is what she wants to say, I'll put your eye out if you keep looking at me like that, Alek my brover, we aren't done for yet, they've gotten out of worse. But they haven't. There's a cold ball in Doki's chest that needs to be put away before she can convince herself of any of that. So, put it away is what she will start to do--neatly, not easily. If she tries hard enough she might start to push its twin out of Alek's chest too. They will need to be of one mind if they're going to do anything. Fighting-fit, no distractions.
She mugs for him now, wiggles her fingers. Her chain clinks again. It's tucked out of sight, under the baggy sleeves of her traveling tunic, cuff linked to cuff by a loose length, just to make her life harder. Doki is sporting a matching pair of anklets, kinky, with another pretty chain. In case she tries anything. Locks could be picked, easy, and maybe they could give these bastards the slip. Doki would carry the chains in Masha's saddlebags until they met their next blacksmith, and have him turn them into another necklace for her to wear. All the trophies of all her escapes, worn for special occasions only.
Then again, she's allowed to eat dinner with her brother, like normal, and pet her pretty Masha, and piss by herself with just one guard staring at her back, so, it's all right for now while they figure out what they do next. More on that: "If I give them my hand they can do what they like with it. I hear they have their own Nevarran necromancer that works for them. He can help me trade. This hand off, a clean hand for me, and we all move on happily. What do you think?"
Aleksei's hands had been familiar, when he'd first turned her hand over to look at what had happened to Doki. They have the same hands, Doki's writ smaller, long fingers, thumbs with a peasanty bluntness, square fingernails. Had the same hands, until this damn shard buried itself in Doki's palm and turned her into a valuable commodity. Thank the Maker, right? Praise be from Yevdokiya, among the lowliest of His creations.
"Maybe I should make a sacrifice to the Maker," she suggests, as she picks up her spoon again. Thoughts jumping one, to the next, like wildfire eating a field alive. Alek can keep up. She's not worried about him in that regard, at least. "Or two. One in thanks for my good good luck, and one to get me the shit out of this one. Worth a try?"
hearteyes
Her hand. The shard, by the way, is still there. It hasn't gone away, no matter how hard Doki has wished it would, staring fervently at her hand while her brother and their jailers slept nearby, while horses whickered and dreamed horse-dreams and the world around them teemed with night noises. The green glow that she was told to expect, isn't there. The shard is dull, its shine only what comes natural from its form. Someday that glow will be there, when some great sky vagina opens up and spits out a birthing of slimy demons, and then Yevdokiya, of all people, will be the hero. She will wave her hand at the rift and it will close. Wow, Yevdokiya! Can you stay forever?
But she doesn't want to stay forever. There is nowhere she has ever wanted to stay forever. There is no one besides her dumb sweet Alek that she's ever wanted to stay with, forever. From the Inquisition and its bastard child, Riftwatch: Doki wants out.
Dumb sweet Aleksei is looking at her over stew and campfire and no one but Doki can read the concern on him. Little things. The faint line at the left side of his mouth. The hitch of his eyebrows. Stop looking at me like that is what she wants to say, I'll put your eye out if you keep looking at me like that, Alek my brover, we aren't done for yet, they've gotten out of worse. But they haven't. There's a cold ball in Doki's chest that needs to be put away before she can convince herself of any of that. So, put it away is what she will start to do--neatly, not easily. If she tries hard enough she might start to push its twin out of Alek's chest too. They will need to be of one mind if they're going to do anything. Fighting-fit, no distractions.
She mugs for him now, wiggles her fingers. Her chain clinks again. It's tucked out of sight, under the baggy sleeves of her traveling tunic, cuff linked to cuff by a loose length, just to make her life harder. Doki is sporting a matching pair of anklets, kinky, with another pretty chain. In case she tries anything. Locks could be picked, easy, and maybe they could give these bastards the slip. Doki would carry the chains in Masha's saddlebags until they met their next blacksmith, and have him turn them into another necklace for her to wear. All the trophies of all her escapes, worn for special occasions only.
Then again, she's allowed to eat dinner with her brother, like normal, and pet her pretty Masha, and piss by herself with just one guard staring at her back, so, it's all right for now while they figure out what they do next. More on that: "If I give them my hand they can do what they like with it. I hear they have their own Nevarran necromancer that works for them. He can help me trade. This hand off, a clean hand for me, and we all move on happily. What do you think?"
Aleksei's hands had been familiar, when he'd first turned her hand over to look at what had happened to Doki. They have the same hands, Doki's writ smaller, long fingers, thumbs with a peasanty bluntness, square fingernails. Had the same hands, until this damn shard buried itself in Doki's palm and turned her into a valuable commodity. Thank the Maker, right? Praise be from Yevdokiya, among the lowliest of His creations.
"Maybe I should make a sacrifice to the Maker," she suggests, as she picks up her spoon again. Thoughts jumping one, to the next, like wildfire eating a field alive. Alek can keep up. She's not worried about him in that regard, at least. "Or two. One in thanks for my good good luck, and one to get me the shit out of this one. Worth a try?"