Originally written:
10.30.2005
Revised:
06.17.2012
Reviews/comments/feedback are always loved and adored!
Maybe I'll live my whole life, just getting by
Maybe I'll be discovered, maybe I'll be colonized
You could try to train me like a pet
You could try to teach me to behave
But I'll tell you, if I haven't laerned it yet
You know I ain't gonna sit, I ain't gonna stay
- Ani DiFranco - Cradle and All
Several days of avoiding everyone later, Akara was startled out of groggily trying to read a book by another knock. She carefully set it down, debating whether to answer for once or to hide like she'd done many times already today. Father's maids had come in and done their thing, and not spotted her.
Even Majere had come looking for her, though he hadn't done more than knocked and asked if she was inside.
"Lady 'Kara?" came a vaguely familiar voice through the door, "It's... Tannusen. Are you alright?"
"Tannu?" she blinked. She hadn't seen the little blond kid-brother of Alley's in over sixteen years. Eighteen, really, since he'd been sent off for some sort of training elsewhere. Tannu had been the only one around vaguely her age, and at that size where boys and girls had cooties but it didn't otherwise matter if they were pals. And they had been pals; he'd been one of the only kids who could keep up with her.
"May I come in, Lady? Or... at least open the door? Talking through it is..." Not that he'd been around much, come to that, always cloistered away for 'training'...
"Come on in."
Unfortunately, Akara had been expecting much the same dirt-smudged little boy she'd wrestled in the mud with as a kid. Never mind logic that said he'd have grown up. And even then...
"Are you alright, Lady Akara?" Tannusen asked again, stepping inside and leaving the door open. His long blond hair had always been braided as a kid like his sister's, now hung loose and long and gorgeous. Features that had always made him a pretty child made him a very pretty adult, now, embarrassingly so. And the same bright blue eyes... the same more-than-a-hint of mischief, now sparkled at her above a charmingly lopsided grin.
"I'm glad you think so, Lady," he suddenly purred, and Akara blinked.
"I said that out loud?"
"Just the word gorgeous."
"O-oh. Erm. So, you've... uh... grown up."
"Just a little," he laughed, pulling out another chair at the small table she was at and sitting down gracefully, "You have as well, yes?"
"Eh," Akara fidgeted with the book in her hands, "only physically. I'm still a punk kid inside."
"I understand," another soft laugh. "We grow like weeds, do we not? And time pays no heed to the desires of the mind."
Oh, I don't know about that. "Er, yeah. I guess." Akara stared at him, but she couldn't help it. This was the kid she'd thrown mud-balls at as a little brat?
"And so? Are you alright?" Tannusen folded his hands on the table, white-gloved fingers lacing together, "You have been hiding. Much like old times, in fact."
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just hate being here again, you know? And Majere..."
"Ah, your courtship."
"Yeah. He keeps poking around the place... part of his quest to have all of my secrets knotted up in the palm of his hand, I suppose."
"He seems very... yes, in to secrets."
"Do I?"
Akara jumped, and looked up to find a familiar black-robed figure standing in the open doorway. Tannusen immediately got up and offered his chair to the archmage. "Mister Majere! Come, do have a seat, I'm sure Lady Akara won't mind. Will you Lady?"
"N-no..."
Raistlin Majere stared at Tannu. Hard. The blond didn't so much as blink, let alone fidget or start or... anything, really. He seemed to take the Majere death-glare without any issue at all, and Akara watched all of this with interest. Even that smile failed to falter, even just a tad. "And you are?" the mage finally demanded.
"Tannusen," said the blond, with one of his trademark bows that the thief remembered from even as a kid. "Half-brother of Weaponsmaster Alleyana, who I know you have met."
"Interesting."
"I know we don't look much alike, but-"
"No." Raistlin interrupted, "the connection shows in your cheek bones and your jaw line."
"I'd forgotten that you also have an older half-sister," Tannu fairly beamed at the mage, "so you know that things like hair and eye color do not always mean a connection, or lack of."
The archmage nodded.
"Well, I'll leave you two alone now, then," said the blond, and then he was gone... out the door with a backwards wave of one gloved hand. He closed it behind himself, this time, effectively trapping Akara in the room with Raistlin.
"Uh... so," Akara fidgeted as Raistlin finally sat down.
"Where have you been?" the mage demanded quietly after she'd been fidgeting for a little while.
"Er, around. I guess. I haven't actually left the rooms that much..."
"Your father's servants said you were not in here."
"Well, I'm a bit hard to catch sometimes, Majere," Akara snorted softly, "just because no one sees me in a room doesn't mean a whole lot if I don't want to be seen. You never caught me, after all."
"And your wounds?"
"They're still wrapped up, and I've even managed to keep from getting them wet."
Raistlin stared at her for a moment, hard. As though he wasn't sure she could be so dumb about this. And then he sighed, and held out his hand.
"Let me see your arm. You haven't even changed the bandages?"
"Should I have?" Akara blinked, but gave up her arm without fuss. She winced when his fingers closed over the gashed area. It really was sore, but shouldn't it be? Being a sword gash and all?
"Yes. Or at least you should have let me change them," the archmage said in angry, clipped tones as he began unwinding the bandages, "Which I would have done if I could have found you."
"O-oh. Well, next time leave a note, or something."
"I didn't know if you were even in Krontis anymore," Raistlin hissed, momentarily gripping her arm tight enough that she yelped, "let alone if you were using these rooms."
"I... er... sorry," Akara felt her eyes widen as she stared at him. Was he actually worried?
"Why did you hide?"
"I just don't deal well with people, Majere. Especially for extended periods of time. I just... I have to disappear," the skin under the wrapping was oddly damp, and the bandages stuck to the wound itself as the mage carefully tugged the cloth free. There was a lot of redness, and a lot of swelling... the skin had puffed grossly around the tiny, uniform stitches that Raistlin had put in. Akara paled.
"Well, don't disappear from me anymore," said Raistlin, in a voice quiet enough that Akara wasn't sure for a moment that he'd said it at all. And then, "You have allowed it to fester, foolish girl."
"I... ugh... that... ow... that really..." she yelped sharply when Raistlin poked carefully at one of the swollen spots between the stitches. "Shit! What was that for!"
"We shall have to numb this, and take out the stitches," said the mage, "and I lack anything small enough to cut them easily."
"We'll ask Jones," Akara said, "she'll have something, I'm sure. But numb it first, okay? She doesn't always do that, I remember..."
"Jones?"
"Local healer, surgeon, and coroner," the thief gulped, "But she's got about as much care for patients being in pain as she has light humor. Only person Alley will let work on her, though, at all, and all those scars Alley's got are from times she's done things on herself rather than let anyone else do it. So her letting anyone do it for her is saying something."
"I see."
"Yeah. Maybe she'll let you just borrow something for a few minutes? I'd much rather you did it then Jones, although I suppose she's got to be really good..."
"I think I may be able to get this one, this one, and this one. And then pull the rest out." Raistlin interrupted her, having been looking at the row of stitches the whole time Akara had rambled about the coroner.
"Oh?"
"It will hurt some, even with the numbing."
"Th-that's okay, I know you'll try not to."
"How is it that you did not know to at least change the bandages?" he asked with some exasperation, turning her arm this way and that while inspecting it further, "I thought you have been living on your own."
"I don't get sliced much. Busted bones once in a while... sure, sprains... I'm a pro with those. But I don't generally have anything that breaks the skin."
"Ah. Well, ideally you will stop jumping between sharp things and archmagi," the mage produced a vial of something thick and brownish from a pouch, and smeared it carefully in the long wound with his fingertips.
"Quit getting sharp things aimed at you and we won't have a problem, will we?" Akara groused, wincing when the mage tightened his grip again for a split second. "I've got a question for you, anyway. You said that it would have taken off your leg?"
"Yes, it was certainly sharp enough to do so," Raistlin let her go and stood, going to the small wash room. The Krinirs were wealthy enough that nearly every bedroom had one of its own, and Grissom Krinir himself had invented a very unique water system for the entire complex... but that was all beside the point. He returned in a few moments with several clean rags, depositing them on the table before drawing his dagger out of his sleeve.
"But it didn't take off my arm. Not that I'm complaining, of course."
"Your move was unexpected to everyone, I'm certain that if he had had time to correct his swing, you would be dead."
"I don't get it, though, if it was that sharp..."
"He expected to slice through my leg. Your arm happened to get in the way suddenly, which turned his attack into more of a fumbling... chop."
"So?"
"My brother has always been one to play with swords, and so I do know a little about them. There is a vast difference between treating your sword as an axe, and chopping, and performing a slice," he mimicked a sort of down and backwards slice with his hand, like it was a blade he was cutting meat with.
"Oh. So I interrupted him before he could even start to pull it back like that."
"Yes, you did."
"Good thing I move fast, then," she noted. He held her arm down with one hand, and began picking at stitches with the dagger's tip, not saying anything in reply until two of them had been snipped.
"Yes," Raistlin finally agreed, "although it would be better yet if you did not hide after sustaining an injury on my behalf."
"Oh moons, that's... sick. It's oozing."
"Draining," he clarified.
"Ughh..." there came a very loud, brisk knock on her door. Akara jumped, just slightly, and Raistlin was quick to move the knife away from her wound.
"Who is it now?" the thief grumbled, before raising her voice, "Come in!"
The door was pushed open and a very imposing, if small, figure stepped into the room. Everything on this person was monochrome except for the pale (but not dead) skin, the brooch at her throat, and those eyes. Akara knew who it was immediately, but felt Raistlin stiffen in mostly-concealed surprise. Golden eyes met amber-hazel, and the newcomer flinched even less than Tannusen had.
Actually, there was a definite challenge there. Chin set and gloved hands slightly clenched; one holding the handle of a black case. "Tannusen informed me that you were still injured," said the woman in that familiar, clipped near-monotone voice that Akara hadn't forgotten. Sixteen plus years, and Megan Jones hadn't changed a blasted hair. She spoke to the thief, but was still staring down Raistlin.
There were probably too many stubborn, strong-willed people in the Krinir complex. Things could get ugly, especially if Jones were involved. Alley wouldn't fight someone for the sake of a fight, Tannu... well, was Tannu. But Megan... she'd drug a person and sew their lips shut if it suited her, and had a few times at that. Jonnah Bigsby had actually had her fingers stitched together as well when she'd woken up.
Well, no one ever messed with that peculiar cat Jones kept around, ever again, after word of lessons like that one got around.
"Uh, um, yeah. My arm's sorta messed up... uh, Majere, this is Megan Jones. Jones, this is Raistlin Majere."
Megan didn't so much as bat an eyelash. "I never would have guessed," the Coroner said, icily, and the two continued their stare-down until Jones' nose wrinkled slightly in disgust and she strode forward, "I smell infection, Krinir. Did you not do anything correctly with this wound?"
"We were working on it," Raistlin interjected smoothly, "Until you interrupted."
"Just as well that I did. A dagger, mage? Marvelous for sacrificing small animals, I would suppose, but not so well equipped for releasing a festering wound."
"Jones-" Akara tried to interrupt between the two, but she knew it was useless.
"I was managing well enough," the mage countered stiffly. In reply, Megan snapped her case open on the table, and produced two items. A bottle of something yellowish, and a surgical scalpel from inside another, smaller case. These were set down, and her case re-closed.
"I haven't the time for this. One kills infection, the other cuts stitches. Try not to confuse them. I expect the sharper of the two back when you are done," and with that, the coroner left the room before anything could really be said in reply.
"...You have interesting associates, Akara."
"No shit, Majere."
