b - l - a - d - e' - s - - e - d - g - e
- - : - - 8 - - : - -
Sikeen finally felt well enough to get on her feet, and was able to deliver the last cup of tea of the day. From what Dalamar had told her, Raistlin hadn't been doing well since the incident in the afternoon and was bedridden once again. She tapped on the door and let herself in when there was no reply.
He was curled up in bed, but definitely awake. He sat up a bit when she walked in and coughed hoarsely, leaving flecks of blood on the white sheets. There was a drop on his lip and she sighed, handing him the teacup.
"There's blood on your mouth," she said, feeling sorry for him. Despite making her skittish, he'd helped her out in the afternoon. He'd woken her up from the perpetual nightmare that was sleep in this tower. He wiped at his lips with the back of his hand and took a sip, feeling instant relief. There was a deep weariness in his eyes, which she figured was the result of years of pervasive illness.
She'd expected him to dismiss her right away, but instead he gestured for her to bring him his robe, which was draped over his desk chair. He often lost his voice, so this wasn't unusual, and she silently fetched it, assuming he would put it on. Instead, he rifled through the pockets, eventually producing a vial of clear liquid. He cleared his throat several times before forcing out a few words.
"Three drops. Sleep." She frowned at him, trying to wrap her mind around what he was saying.
"You're giving this to me?" she asked. He nodded once, staring at her. It was the hourglasses, she decided, that made his stare so nerve-wracking. She gingerly took the vial and looked at it, swirling the liquid around. "Thank you…" she said, not sure how else to respond. Though he'd been hostile and invasive as usual, he'd also done a few nice things for her today. "Really. Thank you, Shalafi." But when she looked up at him, he was already waving her away, curling back up under the blankets. She hurried away, excited to try her new medicine. Maybe she'd look less like a ghost once she got some quality rest.
That night, she finally managed to sleep properly. She woke out of instinct at dawn, feeling refreshed. The potion had worked like a charm. She was also pleased to note that her eyes looked slightly less sunken as well, after just one night of rest. In the kitchen, she ran into Dalamar, who was reading while he ate, as usual.
"I see you survived the night," he said, nodding at her.
"Raistlin gave me something," she said happily, setting the water to boil. She even plucked a banana from the fruit basket for breakfast. Dalamar put his book down slowly.
"What did he give you?"
"Dunno, it's clear and a bit shiny." He was giving her his characteristic mischievous look, a tiny smile playing on his lips. "What is it?"
"You oughta take a bit more tonight. And stay up a while. Might be a good time, you know." She narrowed her eyes at him, confused.
"Is it… liquor?"
"No. Better. You have to share with me." She danced around the counter, fishing for a teacup.
"Who says I have to share anything with you? Shalafi gave it to me." Dalamar's smirk widened.
"You called him Shalafi." Sikeen froze for a moment, realizing he was right.
"Obviously. We have to call him that," she said, brushing it off. "Force of habit."
"You never call him Shalafi when he's not around."
"I told you. Habit." The tea brewed and they stared at each other, Dalamar raising a brow at her.
"I'll be expecting you at midnight," he said, receiving only a goofy wiggle of her eyebrows and crossed eyes in response. He gave her a curious look as she turned back around, watching her gather up the tea to make her way into the hallway. She was wearing a deep green tunic of his, and it barely hung off of her, its neckline stretching from the edge of one shoulder to the other. With her back turned to him, he could stare all he wanted, and he did just that until she sauntered out the door. There was a sort of healthy, content glow to her today, and it made her that much more attractive.
| - - : - - x - - : - - |
Later that day, Raistlin was growing restless. There was something missing from the archive of spells he kept in his bedroom, and he had a growing suspicion that it had been left in the library last time he'd been down there. Annoyed and sick of being in his room, he grabbed the book he'd been reading and began making his way down the stairs, his eyes scanning a page through the half-light in the stairwell. Perhaps he'd missed it, and the spell was actually listed here. Frustrated, he began walking more slowly and eventually came to a complete stop, squinting at the pages.
"Ugh!" Sikeen stumbled before running into Raistlin, but managed to salvage the cup of tea in her hands by grabbing the cloth of his shirt for support and maneuvering quickly to retain balance. Sure she was going to drag him down the stairs, he instinctively dropped the book and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her forward. After the brief chaos, the two were finally still, breathing heavily from the almost-accident. He blinked at her, the eerie glow of her eyes startling him. The candlelight was bouncing off his high cheekbones, making him look all the more ominous.
"You tripped," he said blankly, frozen in place. She was warmer than he'd thought, like a furnace.
"Do you see how narrow this stairwell is?" she spat, glaring. "You were standing in it."
"Be more careful," he said coldly, cocking his head at her. It dawned on Sikeen that they were far, far too close, and he hadn't let go of her yet. If he was going to be rude, she was going to be crude. Slowly, she leaned in toward his bare neck, where she could see his heartbeat pulsing against the skin. With her lips barely brushing against him, she spoke.
"You've still got your arms wrapped around me, Shalafi," she said throatily, carefully balancing the tea in her right hand. She could feel his heart rate speed up. But what he did next was unexpected. Instead of releasing her, he leaned in toward her ear, returning the favor.
"You've still got one hand tangled in my shirt." A chill shot straight through her spine. He didn't even flinch. This was Raistlin. He wasn't supposed to keep his cool when she all but kissed his neck! He was supposed to stammer something defensive and fling her away. Startled, she released him and stepped onto an even lower step, now two steps beneath him. She shoved the tea into his hands and cleared her throat. There was a tiny smile on his lips – he was mocking her. The mage leaned against the stone wall, taking a sip of his tea. "And how is the seduce-Shalafi-to-escape plan going?" he said, repeating Dalamar's words from the other day. She recognized them instantly. It was a moment before she could find her voice.
"I wasn't… I mean, I was just messing with you," she said, thankful there was no way he could see her slight blush in the dark. "Please," she scoffed with a toss of her hair, trying to brush off the whole situation. He raised a brow at her.
"Well, that didn't work either," he said evenly, seeing right through her little act. Sikeen was surprisingly defensive when things didn't go her way. She glared at him.
"If you don't mind, Shalafi, I have things to do," she said, whirling around. He waited until she was all the way down the steps before laughing to himself and scooping his book up off the floor. You don't have anything to do, he thought idly as he made his way to the library. She was amusing when she was flustered. As he hunted for the right book, he had to actively ignore the slight tingling her lips had left on his skin.
Sikeen, meanwhile, sat in the kitchen, blushing beet red. That hadn't gone as planned. How would she face him again? It would be so awkward. He wasn't like Dalamar, who she could be flirtatious and silly with and it wouldn't mean anything. Raistlin was powerful, and scary, and obviously more difficult to catch off-guard than she had thought. And he'd turned that situation around in a second. He wasn't even the slightest bit rattled. Something about it left her deeply disturbed – she was usually so good at making people uncomfortable that when she couldn't she felt vulnerable.
As she begin to calm down, she started a fishtail braid just in time for Dalamar to wander in again. They seemed to meet in the kitchen more often than anywhere else in the Tower. When she saw him, she immediately began blushing again, praying he hadn't overheard her and Raistlin in the stairwell. He hadn't, but he noticed her discomfort immediately.
"Something wrong?" he asked, fishing through the fruit basket for a ripe peach.
"Of course not. Why?" she asked, keeping her eyes trained on her braid. He held a peach up to her face from across the room and then placed it on the table in front of her.
"You're about this color; that's why." He snatched up the peach again and bit into it, watching her.
"Don't know what you mean," she said quickly, pulling her braid apart and restarting. It wasn't turning out right.
"I'm not sure I want to know," he said, laughing. "But you look tremendously embarrassed, and I'm thinking this has to do with wooing Shalafi in an escape attempt."
"For Gods' sake, I was messing with him!" she hissed, immediately regretting it. She shouldn't have said that.
"Oh, so you did try again?" he asked, taking a seat across from her at the table. "I take it back. I want to know."
"There's nothing to know," she mumbled, all but hiding behind her braid.
"You have to tell me," he insisted, leaning in toward her.
"I don't have to do anything," she said, wanting to sink into her chair.
"How did he react? Did he hex you? Did he shove you away and mutter something about your insolence?" She heaved a massive sigh, sick of his pestering.
"No! Gods! He just—" She paused, not knowing how to put this. "He seduced me right back! Or tried to. I don't know. He didn't even flinch," she finished, feeling pathetic. Living here was not good for her ego.
A strange look crossed Dalamar's features. It was something between concern and surprise, and Sikeen realized this was the second bizarre reaction she'd gotten from her cohabitants that day. "What?" she asked, tying off the braid and laying it on her shoulder. "You wanted to know."
"I just can't really picture that," he said slowly, frowning. "Odd."
"Apparently women don't faze him like we thought," she said casually, wanting to take the edge off the conversation. After one heated encounter, she really wasn't in the mood for another.
"Apparently not," repeated Dalamar, confused. He stood up and made for the door, spitting the pit of his peach into the trash. "Midnight. I'm expecting you," he reminded her.
"I'll be there," she said in a singsong voice, examining her braid.
| - - : - - x - - : - - |
Her next few tea deliveries went by without incident. She managed to avoid eye contact with Raistlin and was dismissed right away, as usual, which she considered to be a great mercy. She'd come to accept the fact that avoiding Raistlin was impossible, and not having to speak to him was the best she'd get. After her last delivery of the day, she receded to her room and re-did her braid, waiting patiently for Raistlin to fall asleep so she could sneak across the landing to Dalamar's. It wasn't the sneaking around she was so worried about, but more so the trouble they would get in if he woke from their chatter and found them overdosing on the potion he gave her. It was important that he was completely asleep before they started.
She killed two hours by reading, dozing in and out of sleep, and re-tying her braid a few times before finally letting it out, allowing her hair to rest naturally on her shoulders. When the tiny clock on the wall finally read midnight, she grabbed the vial and crept across the landing, wincing at the creaky floorboards she disturbed. Raistlin was surely asleep by now, right? She knocked on Dalamar's door and he opened it almost immediately, his usual mischievous grin spread across his features as he glanced to the ceiling, as if he could see up to his Shalafi's room. When she was safely inside, he finally spoke.
"Did you bring it?" She pulled the vial from her pocket.
"If I'd forgotten, it's not a long walk…"
"Excellent," he said, leading her into his chambers. She could see now why he'd decided to move from across the hall. Sikeen's suite contained only a bedroom and bathroom, whereas Dalamar's current one had a sitting area, a study, and a larger bedroom and bathroom. Of course, it was also a disaster, with various half-empty vials and clothes strewn about every determinable surface. He led her into the sitting area and she picked up what seemed to be a solid gold ring. Eyeing it, she ran her fingers along its smooth surface. "Oh. Don't touch that," said Dalamar quickly. She shot him a quizzical look. "Very dangerous." Not wanting to ask questions, she delicately put it back on the table, brows raised. He pulled a chair from the corner of the room and gestured for her to have a seat on the couch, turning the chair around to sit on it backwards. "Vial, please," he said, holding his hand out. She pulled it from her pocket once more and handed it to him. "Stick your tongue out."
"I can do it myself, thanks," said Sikeen, amused.
"Who has the vial; you or me?" asked Dalamar, smirking at her. She rolled her eyes and leaned toward him, sticking her tongue out. Carefully, he administered what seemed to be between eight and ten drops on her tongue, and she winced from the bitterness. He then did the same to himself and put the vial on the table. "And now we wait."
"How long does it take?" she asked, waiting for the taste to wash down her throat.
"Dunno, really. Haven't done this in a long time. I had trouble sleeping when I first arrived and Shalafi gave me some of this too, but since then… haven't seen it."
"What is it, anyway?"
"Magic, obviously." She glared at him.
"Obviously."
About twenty minutes went by before Sikeen stood up to grab the blanket she'd seen in the other room, but as soon as she did she was plunged into a peculiar sort of vertigo. Confused, she grabbed the sofa for support and blinked rapidly, a warm sensation similar to that of alcohol's effects welling up in her chest. "I think it's working?" she said, accidentally stating it like a question. Dalamar's laughter seemed slow and faraway, but comforting.
"Looks like it. Maybe you should sit back down," he advised, looking up at her curiously. She collapsed back onto the sofa, no longer in need of the blanket. It felt like summer, like she might have been outside in a warm night breeze. Sighing, she giggled up at the ceiling.
"This is really odd," she said slowly, eyes widening at Dalamar. Somehow, she felt aware of his breathing, which was slow and even. He grinned at her.
"It is, isn't it? Feels like we're not here." There was some odd clarity to that – it truly did feel like they were elsewhere, somewhere better.
"Sit over here, will you?" asked Sikeen, running a hand through her hair. Her own fingers left little tingles along her scalp that made her laugh. Dalamar took a seat on the couch, a safe three feet away from her, with his legs crossed pretzel-style.
"What're you laughing at?"
"My head is ticklish!" she said, laughing again. He ran a hand through his own hair, which was nearly as long as hers, and felt the same sensation.
"That is odd," he said, resisting his own laughter.
"I'm getting so sleepy," mumbled Sikeen, leaning against the back of the couch and flashing him an intoxicated grin.
"Don't fall asleep! It'll go away," he insisted. Laughing again, she hoisted her head up to rest on her hand, forcing herself to look at him. An idea sprang to his mind. "I know what'll wake you up. Let's go outside." Her eyes widened, almost comically.
"Outside? Can we escape?" she asked desperately, amazed. Had he found a way out?
"Not quite… but you'll enjoy it." Giggling, she let him grab her by the hand and lead her into the stairwell, where he put a finger over her lips. "He's a light sleeper," whispered Dalamar, leading her quietly up the steps. She had to clap her own hand over her mouth to keep the laughter from escaping. There was just something unexplainably humorous about the whole situation.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked, forgetting to whisper. Dalamar shot her a look – they were just passing by Raistlin's door. He could very well have heard. In response, he only put a finger to his own lips and widened his eyes at her, reminding her to stay quiet. "Oops," she whispered, returning her hand to her mouth.
Raistlin had heard. In fact, he was wide awake, immersed in his usual reading. The usual silence of the Tower was interrupted by Sikeen's musical, obviously intoxicated voice in a heartbeat. He spun his desk chair around, narrowing his eyes at the door. Dalamar was taking her somewhere. But where? Why?