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1.
The first time Imogen thinks about kissing Laudna, she doesn’t even realize she does it.
The sun is dimming, cresting just above the far horizon, yet it’s high enough to cast a cascade of soft orange and yellow light just over the tree line. A light autumnal chill has crept into the air, silent in a way that had gone unnoticed until Imogen felt the first shiver run up her arms.
It’s then that she realizes how much her feet ache from the past several days of travel, so unused to venturing this far from home. She doesn’t dare stop their heated pace, however. They still have an hour of daylight left, and she wants to use all the light that they can get.
Unimpeded, Laudna softly banters with Pâté ahead of her. About what, Imogen’s unsure of—certainly something randy if Pâté’s involved—but she’s just happy to listen to the soft lilt of Laudna’s voice.
Like a gentle refrain, Laudna’s voice carries a somber softness. Her thoughts ebb and flow in a beautiful symphony, pushing yet not intruding— never intruding—at the edge of Imogen’s mind like a comforting touch. Though chilled by the air, Imogen is warmed by the reassuring presence of Laudna’s mind and, like a bee to honey, she finds herself willingly entrapped in its silken embrace.
She’s never heard a mind so beautiful, so passionate, so genuine before. Laudna, she’s quickly coming to learn, finds beauty everywhere, even—and perhaps especially—in the darkened nooks and crevices of the graceless cruelty she continuously endures.
A low burn simmers underneath her fingertips, leather creaking in her tightened grasp as she ruminates on the events leading up to their abrupt departure from Gelvaan. How the screams of burn the witch still ring in her ears and the smell of electricity still singes her nose.
“—ogen?”
Even having only known each other for such a brief time, Imogen cannot imagine another day without the other woman, and the thought is suddenly frightening. She’s never had a friend like Laudna before, not when her village was so quick to turn on her when her powers first manifested.
A familiar heaviness sits in her chest, seeping and carving into her bones as her mind begins to spin. She can still hear their whispers, their thoughts. Those sharp, needlepoint memories prick at her skin, twisting inside her head until it thrums with a pulsing throb.
“Imogen?”
She wonders if Laudna will be the same, eventually. She wonders if Laudna will realize what Imogen is and will look at her with the same contempt as the rest. She wonders if—
“Imogen!”
Laudna’s voice snaps through the air like lightning, both jarring and grounding her into the present. A familiar prickling sensation festers at the edge of her fingertips as she refocuses on her surroundings.
A deep frown is etched onto Laudna’s lips, worry shining blatantly in her eyes. “Darling, are you okay? You seem… off.”
Imogen gives a tired smile in return. “Oh, sorry. I guess I was spacin’ out for a minute there.” It’s a weak attempt at reassurance at best, but it’s all she has.
“Imogen…” Laudna begins, almost cautiously. “Is there something the matter? You know, I’ve got an ear to listen with if you want to talk. I’m great at listening, just ask Pâté—I listen to him for hours ! He actually really never stops talking now that I think about it…” She trails off as she begins fidgeting with her hands. “And…if you’re—if you’re having second thoughts about traveling together, I under—”
The no that rips out of Imogen’s throat is hoarse, desperate, loud, and it makes them both jump, startled by the heated intensity behind it. A few crows flutter from a nearby tree into the air at the abrupt sound.
“I don’t—I want— no.” Imogen scrambles forward, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
Laudna caves inward, looking suddenly small and shy. “I know I’m not the most, ah, suitable of companions given the whole,” she waves her hands around nervously, “dead thing, so it’d be completely understandable if you wanted to…”
“I want to be here.” Imogen grabs onto Laudna’s flailing hands, clutching them to her chest. “With you.”
“Oh.” Laudna’s eyes widen, stilling at the confession.
A bubble of fear wells in the pit of Imogen’s stomach. Fear that she’s gone too far, revealed too much too soon.
But then—Laudna’s lips curl upward. Her eyebrows are still knitted together in confusion, almost like she can’t believe what she’s hearing—Imogen vows to work on that—but there’s a gentle smile on her lips and a new light to her eyes.
It’s utterly endearing, and a sudden electric current runs through Imogen at the sight. A need so heavy and foreign strikes her, begging her to do something. What that is, she doesn’t know, but the feeling is unfamiliar and burning in her chest in a way she’s never felt before.
She sucks in a breath, willing the chilled autumnal air to cool her heated insides.
“I guess…it’s just been a while since I’ve had a friend, is all. Guess I’m scared I might mess this up.” Not a total lie, she decides, but a small part in the back of her mind tells her it’s not the whole truth either. She ignores it, focusing on the feel of Laudna’s hands instead.
Laudna’s smile is warm, inviting, knowing. “You know, I’ve spent almost thirty years without a friend…unless you count Pâté.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial as she mock-whispers, “And I only made him because I didn’t have anyone! Don’t go telling him that, though. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
Imogen chuckles despite herself as Laudna offers a gentle squeeze to their joined hands before she continues. “The point is, I’m not…very good at friends either, but I think maybe we could learn together? If that’s okay with you, of course!”
A breath Imogen didn’t know she was holding releases as a surge of affection blooms in her chest at those words. Together. They can do this together, learn this—together.
She smiles; this time it isn’t a forced reassurance. “Yeah. I think I’d like that a lot, Laudna.”
Delighted, Laudna’s lips pull into a wide grin. The light from the setting sun frames her face in gold, and Imogen has half a mind to think just how pretty Laudna looks right now, in this moment.
They keep walking, this time hand-in-hand.
2.
It takes a year of traveling together for Imogen to finally realize that maybe what she feels for Laudna goes beyond the simple constraints of friendship.
They’d come to a stop on the side of a trail, not too far out from the next city, when Laudna had gleefully spotted a rogue blueberry bush, and had practically dragged Imogen over to it in her excitement.
“Blueberries,” Laudna says now as she begins to pick a few. There’s an odd reverence in her voice that Imogen hasn’t heard before. “I haven’t had these in years! My mum, she’d make this delicious blueberry pie to herald the coming of Spring back when I was a little girl. Did I ever tell you about when…”
Imogen listens with rapt attention as Laudna recounts a time when she was six years old and tried to steal one of those freshly baked pies right from under her mother’s nose. Like an oasis in the desert, she greedily drinks up any details Laudna deigns to share about her past. And with Laudna’s eyes shining so bright with mirth, Imogen realizes she could listen to her talk for…well, forever if she could. It’s there that she decides she will do so if she can, if Laudna will have her.
“Sounds like you were quite a rascal,” Imogen grins when Laudna’s finished. “And that pie sounds heavenly. I’ve never had a blueberry pie before. Think you could make one with some of these?”
Laudna’s eyes widen, almost aghast as she says, “You haven’t?”
Imogen shakes her head with a fond smile, “No, blueberries were a bit of a rare treat back in the Highlands. I’ve never even had one before.”
“They’re simply divine. You must try one!” Laudna moans as she pops a blueberry into her mouth.
Imogen swallows hard, ears growing hot at the sound for a reason she doesn't quite understand. “I don’t know…what’s it taste like?”
“Hmm…sweet. A little tart. You’ll like them, I promise,” Laudna tells her as she comes to stand in front of Imogen with a handful of berries.
It seems to happen in slow motion.
With her forefinger and thumb, Laudna brings a single berry to Imogen’s lips. In a silent command, she gently coaxes Imogen’s mouth open and slowly tips the berry past her lips, thumb softly brushing against Imogen’s bottom lip as she moves away.
Imogen bites into the berry on instinct, yelping as a bit of juice unexpectedly dribbles down her chin, but oh Laudna’s right, the taste is divine. A burst of tart sweetness erupts in her mouth, and now she has to fight off a moan of delight.
Powerless, Imogen can only openly stare as Laudna, laughing, takes her thumb and swipes the purple liquid from Imogen’s chin before bringing it between her own lips and sucking it clean. “See? Absolutely delicious.”
A familiar warmth envelops Imogen’s chest as she watches Laudna lick the juice from her thumb, and the need that spikes in her veins from the scene rushes through her so quickly that she doesn’t even have time to comprehend it herself. The impulse to reach out, to take Laudna’s face into her hands and kiss the taste from her mouth is hot, urgent in a way she’s never felt before. No matter how sweet the blueberry is, it couldn’t possibly compare to the taste of Laudna, could it?
That’s when the realization comes over her, and it’s so absurd that when it hits her that all Imogen can think is—
Oh.
Oh.
“Oh—”
“Oh?” Laudna asks quizzically around a mouth full of berries.
Imogen smiles numbly in response. “They’re delicious. Just…thinkin’ about you bakin’ that pie now is all.”
Dawning horror slowly washes over her as every glance, every touch, every moment with Laudna over the past year clicks into place with a sudden startling clarity.
Imogen’s in love with Laudna.
Gods, no.
Imogen’s in love with her best friend.
Her heart jettisons into an erratic race at the sudden realization, beating so wildly in her chest that she’s afraid Laudna will hear it.
Laudna is her first real friend in years, and Imogen decides then and there that she isn’t going to let anything come between that, not even her ruined heart.
Clutching a shaking hand to her chest, she stares up at the taller woman whose smile is bright and joyful and full of new meaning that Imogen wants nothing more than to be a part of.
And all Imogen can say is—
“Oh.”
(Laudna does end up baking her that blueberry pie as promised, and though it tastes delicious, Imogen can’t help but think that Laudna would taste even sweeter.)
3.
Imogen’s restraint wavers on one particular evening.
Sitting on their shared bed at Zhudanna’s, Imogen tries to read the book in her lap—tries being the operative word here—as her focus keeps slipping from the page to peer at Laudna instead.
Laudna, who has just been so happy and excited to experience a city again, has been buying several items from the Jrusar market. At first it was different odds and ends—lots of crafting tools and materials—but today is different. Today she came fluttering in their room with such exuberance that Imogen could barely contain her own smile as Laudna presented a singular tube of lipstick.
Oh, I’ve always wanted to try this, Laudna had told her. All the real ladies would wear this growing up, and I’ve always thought it looked so beautiful.
Imogen watches now as Laudna shakily applies the lipstick in the vanity mirror that sits against the center wall. The purple color—Imogen’s favorite—is dark and matte on Laudna’s lips, beautiful and stark against her pale complexion. In an unpracticed motion, Laudna brings her lips together in an attempt to even out the color. Imogen’s eyes follow the movement in the mirror, hypnotized, almost compelled.
Even from her position on the bed, Imogen can see a small smudge of purple at the corner of Laudna’s mouth. The urge to reach out and swipe her thumb across the corner is electric, feeding into a burning sensation she refuses to acknowledge.
“I’m not…very used to this sort of thing.” Laudna’s voice cuts through Imogen’s thoughts as she catches her gaze in the mirror. “I never really did anything quite like this even when I was alive.”
Imogen is privy to Laudna’s history. They’ve been traveling together for almost two years now, have shared bits and pieces of their past, bared their souls now on more than one occasion…but every once in a while, Laudna will make a casual remark about her past that catches Imogen off guard, sends her reeling for purchase.
Tucking away those thoughts for another time, she closes her book and stands. “Would you like some help?”
Laudna’s eyes crinkle when she smiles, turning in the chair to face Imogen. “Oh yes, that would be lovely, darling.”
Gingerly, Imogen takes the lip stain from Laudna’s hand as she comes to stand between the raven-haired woman’s legs. The silken fabric of Laudna’s skirt brushes and pulls taunt against her bare knees, and Imogen has to fight down the rising blush that threatens to overcome her cheeks at the intimate position. Instead, she focuses on carefully applying the stain to Laudna’s bottom lip.
“Pucker for me?” she asks after a moment, ears instantly pinkening when Laudna does so without hesitation, delicate lips pulling into a picturesque scene—beautiful and utterly kissable. Charmed, Imogen swallows back a sigh at the view.
This time, she doesn’t stop herself. Gently, so gently—as if a faster motion could cause it all to crack—she cradles Laudna’s face in her hands and wipes at the corner of her mouth with her thumb.
So pretty, she thinks as she stares, completely enraptured by the dark purple delicately painted on Laudna’s lips. As if moving on its own accord, her thumb caresses Laudna’s cheek. So soft.
Her gaze leisurely slides from Laudna’s painted lips, to her pale cheeks, to her long, lovely ridged nose, and eventually settles on her eyes.
All breath ceases as she gazes into those big, dark eyes. She feels like she can lose herself there, swimming in the inky darkness that she’s come to love. A comfort wrapped in home. Laudna may be certain in her undeath, but her eyes are more soulful than anything Imogen has ever seen.
“Do you think it suits me?” Laudna whispers as she leans into Imogen’s hand, skin cool against her bare palm.
Though innocent, the movement sparks through her lightning scars, setting her skin and nerve-endings alight as the feeling dances into her chest. A slow burn seeps and blossoms there, familiar in a way she doesn’t wish to give more meaning to. She wonders if her lips would pull away purple if she were to press them against the other woman, if they’d be stained the same dark color, if she’d be marked and claimed for all to see.
“Yes,” Imogen exhales through the feeling as she releases Laudna and takes a step back, as if the physical distance would help steady herself. And it does, marginally. Her breathing comes easier, but the itch to touch her, to kiss her remains.
There was only ever one answer, she’s beginning to realize. She’d think anything would look beautiful on Laudna, and her heart constricts at the thought that she’d never be able to act on it.
4.
The Bells Hells are at one of the local taverns, drinking and chattering about their latest adventure one evening several weeks later. Though they’ve only just met relatively recently, Laudna has gravitated to this strange group with such enamored enthusiasm that Imogen, albeit wearily, can’t help but follow suit.
(It’s a nice enough night that Imogen probably should’ve known it was all going to go to hell eventually.)
Everyone is laughing and groaning at something Chetney says, but all Imogen can pay attention to is Laudna. Ever since she almost let herself get carried away by the moment at Zhudanna’s, it's like the feelings she's kept at bay for so long have come to a head. Unable to tamp it back down like she usually does, she’s been catching herself stealing more and more glances at Laudna almost every chance she can get.
Even now at the tavern, coming down from the adrenaline of the group’s latest conquest, she’s unable to look away from Laudna who sits across the table. She knows she must look a sight, leaning over the table, cheek in hand, and utterly lovesick.
Laudna purses her lips at something Fearne says and Imogen is hard pressed not to track the movement. Maybe it’s the free flowing ale, maybe it’s the adrenaline of the victory from earlier, maybe it’s just Imogen, but she can’t stop her thoughts from wandering.
She wonders how it’d feel if she just reached over and rubbed her thumb against Laudna’s bottom lip. Wonders if it’s as soft as it looks. Wonders if Laudna would pull her thumb into her mouth…
A small burn trickles down, settling between her thighs like a warm spark. She shifts uncomfortably as the warmth slowly crawls up to color her cheeks.
A loud clank, assumedly from a tankard being set down with too much force behind her, snaps her from her daze, and with it, a cold splash of guilt washes over her. Her stomach churns uncomfortably as she realizes where her thoughts drifted to. She shouldn’t be thinking of Laudna this way. Laudna is her friend, her best friend , she reminds herself.
Laudna means more to her than anything else, and she’s not going to let anything come between that. She can’t, she won’t ruin this friendship. It means far too much. This she swears to herself.
That’s when she catches Ashton’s eyes from across the table. Their head is tilted back as they eye her with a smirk, one that seems too knowing for comfort. The uncomfortable feeling in her stomach grows as they continue to stare at each other until eventually Imogen can’t take it anymore.
Can I help you? She projects into their mind, not wanting to bring attention to whatever this is. Whatever they think they know, they don't. They’re wrong, she tells herself firmly.
Ashton leans over the table, almost conspiratorial. Oh man. You have got it bad.
I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.
They roll their eyes. Yes you do. You and the dead lady. You got a thing for her.
Anxiety spikes through her stomach so quickly she feels a bit dizzy as it lands in her chest. Sucking a steadying breath through her nose, she leans back in her chair with her arms crossed like it could shield her. Hackles raised, a hot streak of irritation bubbles beneath the anxiety, like a last line of defense.
I don’t have a thing, she grinds out through their mental connection. Whatever thing you’re talkin’ about doesn’t exist. There is no thing here.
They grin and lean back, seemingly satisfied with her reaction. You most certainly do have a thing.
I do not have a thing, Ashton.
Yeah, ya do.
No, I don’t!
Yep!
No!
Suuure! You’re totally believable. Like I haven’t just watched you ogle her the entire night.
Imogen stands abruptly, kicking the chair back and slamming her hands on the table so hard her drink jumps and sloshes a little onto the table. “I do not have a thing!”
The rest of the table goes silent. Hell, the rest of the tavern does too. Her face burns as all eyes turn to her.
Ashton cackles, clutching their side and wiping a tear from their eye. “Ah fuck, Sparky. You really, really do.”
Imogen promptly uses telekinetic shove and pushes Ashton’s tankard into their lap.
She practically flings herself out of the tavern and into the night air, but not before she hears Ashton call out “you can’t hide from this forever, ya know!”
Fuck Ashton. Fuck whatever they think they know.
She forces a breath through her lungs. Then two. In. Out. In. Out. Trying and failing to collect herself as embarrassment floods through her as she recounts the scene she’s caused.
The never-ending prickle of outside thoughts needle in her mind, battering against her weakened shield, weary from alcohol and fragile from abject humiliation.
What the fuck is up with that girl?
Must be a lover’s quarrel…
Sweet thing looked upset. Wonder if I could get ‘er to sit in m’lap.
She runs a shaky hand through her hair as her head begins to pound at the incessant thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she wills her mental shields up, hoping to block the incoming barrage.
After a long moment of concentration and sheer willpower, the thoughts dull from a steady stream to a small trickle.
She breathes again, sucking in as much air as she can before expelling all of it from her lungs and repeating, just like Laudna taught her years ago when it all had become too much one night.
Behind her, the tavern door creaks open and closed. “Ashton, I swear I will fry your ass so hard that no one will even know it’s you—”
“Imogen…”
At the sound of her name, Imogen whips around so fast she almost stumbles.
“Laudna…”
Her raven-haired companion has one hand out as if to reach for Imogen. Lips parted in concern, she takes a step forward, but Imogen retreats, unable to let herself be vulnerable, knowing she’d come undone with just one touch.
Laudna’s outstretched hand falls to her side, but the look of concern only deepens. “What happened back there? Are you—”
“I’m fine,” Imogen interrupts, unable to stop the slightly manic chuckle that bubbles from her throat. Because she is fine. She’s totally fine. Everything about her is absolutely, completely, and utterly fi—
“You don’t have to lie, darling.” Laudna’s voice is soft in the darkness, face just lit by the soft glow of Catha. “Not to me.”
Imogen sniffs and hugs herself, suddenly feeling small. She wants so badly to bottle this up, to shut it away and never see it again, but one look from Laudna and she’s breaking. She was never good at keeping anything from her anyway. “But I want to be okay, I need to be okay.”
Boney arms suddenly envelop her as she’s brought into Laudna’s chest. A kiss is pressed to her temple. “It’s okay to not be okay, darling. We don’t have to talk about it. Whatever’s happened, we’ll get through it together. Remember? We promised that— together.”
Whatever boundary Imogen has set shatters in that moment, and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to put the pieces back together again.
She stays in Laudna’s arms for a long time and tries not to think about the feel of her lips, pressed so softly against her hair.
5.
Imogen realizes she’s well and truly fucked when she sees Dusk grasp onto Laudna’s hands.
They haven’t spoken much about that night outside the tavern a week ago. Laudna, always so gentle and caring about boundaries, never pushed her about opening up, which Imogen was thankful for, but then the incident with the gnarlrock happened, and now everything just feels wrong and sore between them.
She watches as Dusk leans into Laudna’s space with a charming smile.
“Cold hands, warm heart.”
Electricity prickles at her fingertips and she has the sudden urge to smash something. Instead, she decides on the next best thing and telekinetically shoves Ashton, who has had this shit-eating grin aimed at her ever since Dusk arrived, into a nearby sand dune.
It’s later when it’s just her by the campfire that Ashton approaches, still a little dusty and covered in bits of sand.
“Ya know, instead of taking out all this jealous rage on me, maybe you could, I don’t know, talk to her?”
Imogen scoffs. “I’m not—I’m not jealous of Dusk. Don’t go bein’ ridiculous.”
“Sure fooled me.”
“Just a thought, Ashton—maybe you could mind your own business.”
“You using me to take out your rage—which, not that I mind, go off I guess—kinda makes this my business, Sparky.”
“I—” She fumbles, suddenly at a loss for words. “Well…if y’would just stop lookin’ at me like…like—”
“Like I know you’re totally in love with her?”
Her heart chooses that moment to stumble out of her chest. It lays there on the ground, frantically beating against the still earth and longing to be cradled by soft, pale hands that are too busy hanging around Dusk at the moment to care.
It’s a cruel and unfair thought, she knows. She wishes she could scoop it up and put it all back where it belongs. She wishes that she could just stop this nonsense and get back to the way things were. She wishes she didn’t have this fucking gaping hole inside of her aching to be filled every time she so much as glances Laudna’s way.
And it’s her fault, really, that Laudna looks at her with so much guilt and hurt and aching sadness. Or maybe it’s Delilah. She’s not sure, not yet at least. Her mind is scattered, feels like it’s been filter-fed through a straw, and maybe she’s just getting to see the bigger picture now that the gnarlrock’s influence is slowly being lifted.
She needs to do something. But what? How? They’ve never fought like this before, and Laudna—oh, she’s the one that Imogen would go to for advice and now she can’t.
“I might not be the most perceptive,” Ashton continues, unimpeded by Imogen’s internal deliberation. “But I’m not blind. Well, I am partially blind, but that’s besides the point… You love her. And she’s been freaking since she broke your rock, and you’ve been moping around for days now.”
Imogen digs her foot into the ground, enjoying the way the sand crunches underneath her boot as she stares into the fire. “It’s not that simple, Ashton.”
“Sure it is. You just go up to her and say ‘Hey, forget about the rock, I love you!’ and then y’all really ought to bang it out because there’s just way too much tension mucking up the air.” They grin and bump her shoulder with their own.
Imogen laughs, despite herself, and she bumps back. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, huh?”
“This is why y’all should listen to me more.”
“This coming from the person who wants to do more smashing than anything.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying you should do.”
She rolls her eyes fondly, a small smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, fuck off.”
It’s not long after that that Imogen, almost barreled over by her feelings of guilt and regret, buys Laudna a ring from the River of Renewal. Twin golden snakes, heralded by a single ruby, forever entwined.
It’s like us, she tells Laudna, desperate and aching and loving . And Laudna smiles back at her with tears in her eyes, dark and dripping, and they hug, trying to put it all behind them, each vowing to do better.
And finally—finally—Imogen is able to breathe again without the sting of an aching, unrelenting weight on her chest.
But there’s no time to properly talk because then they’re taking place in the Deathwish Run and Laudna almost dies , and then Imogen is being flung from the crawler as they draw near the finish line.
The sun glints in her eyes as she sails through the air with just enough time to think it’s so bright out before—
“Oof!” The breath is forcibly knocked out of her as she impacts the ground, hard. Dazed, she tries to sit up but the muscles in her back quiver and quake in protest.
“Imogen!”
Pretty, she thinks distantly as she looks up at the sky, unable to move. That voice is pretty.
“Imogen—darling, are you alright?” Laudna’s face, though bloodied and bruised, comes into view, blocking out the sun as she carefully lifts Imogen’s head into her lap.
And of course it’s Laudna’s voice. The thought comes with sharp clarity through her muddled mind. She’s always thought Laudna pretty, delicate, beautiful even. Everytime she speaks it’s like listening to music. A symphony curated just for Imogen to behold.
A bright flush, purple in hue blooms on Laudna’s cheeks, and Imogen thinks that’s pretty, too. “Music? Darling, I think you’ve taken quite the hit on the head.”
Oh, Imogen thinks to herself. Am I talkin’ out loud?
“You certainly are,” Laudna replies with a fond smile. “But keep going. Do you think you can stay awake for me?”
Imogen thinks she’d do anything Laudna would ask her to do.
Laudna clears her throat as her blush darkens and—oh, Imogen must be talking aloud again. “Good, that’s good. Fearne is heading over here now. She’s going to help you, okay?”
Imogen frowns, pouting. But she doesn’t want Fearne over here yet. Not when it’s been so long since it’s just been her and Laudna. “Sometimes I just wanna go back to how it was before.”
“And how was that?” Laudna asks, brushing a stray hair from Imogen’s face before gently massaging her scalp.
“Back when it was just me and you. Do you remember pickin’ those blueberries along the trail a year ago?” Because Imogen does. She remembers it with such a hot, striking urgency. She remembers laughing with Laudna, popping juicy berries between their lips. She remembers wanting to kiss the taste of it out of Laudna’s mouth.
Instead of answering, Laudna licks the bottom of her lip before bringing it between her teeth.
Imogen follows the movement, entirely enthralled by the way Laudna bites at her lip as she remembers. That feeling from so long ago, born from an utterance, captivated by thought, instilled from love is here now. It never left.
“Gods, Laudna, I want to kiss you.”
“I—you—Imogen... ” Laudna sputters, hands stilling in Imogen’s hair as her mouth opens and closes. “You…want to kiss…me?”
“Yeah, ‘course I do.” Imogen admits with a giggle, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say. With the way that Laudna’s cheeks beautifully darken and the shy smile that plays against her lips, Imogen isn’t sure why she’s never said this out loud before, and she certainly can’t find it in herself to care, not when Laudna is looking at her like she’s holding the sun.
Laudna opens her mouth to respond but is interrupted when Fearne appears next to them.
“Oh geez, you both look just awful. Let’s get you fixed up.”
+1.
It’s days after Dusk…well, became Yu that they really get to talk.
They’re laying side-by-side in one of the tavern beds the group rented for the night and Imogen’s just happy to have a moment to breathe. They’ve been going so hard and for so long that she’s almost forgotten what it’s like to be still.
It’s quiet for a long moment before Laudna breaks the silence.
“Do you think Dusk—Yu said all those nice things just to…toy with me?” Laudna’s voice has never sounded so small ; Imogen’s heart breaks in two and the sudden urge to use one of its shards to tear into Yu is ferocious.
She turns over so she’s facing Laudna as she whispers, “I don’t think so.”
Laudna turns, mirroring her position. They’re almost nose-to-nose. So close Imogen can feel Laudna’s breath ghosting against her lips.
“But they betrayed us.”
“I won’t lie, they’re full o’shit and who knows what we can or can’t trust about them,” Imogen admits. Laudna tries to pull away at her words, seemingly defeated but Imogen is quick to catch her cheek, holding her in place as she continues. “But they were right about you.”
Their eyes connect, and Imogen finds herself falling into the depths of the swirling black of Laudna's irises, filled with soft longing and gentle hope.
Swallowing, Laudna says, “They made me think…made me feel like I was, well, ah, special.”
“Oh honey, you are special.”
“I—well…” A deep color rises to Laudna’s cheeks. “Now you’re just being nice.”
“I’m bein’ serious, Laud. You are. You’ve got the kindest heart and, gods, you’re beautiful, too.”
“I am?”
“Yes, darlin’. And I…they—anyone really—would be lucky to have you.”
The color of Laudna’s cheeks darken ever so slightly as she averts her eyes, almost bashful.
A sudden bravery swells in Imogen at the sight. Maybe it’s from the days—perhaps years —of pent up tension, maybe it’s from the way Laudna looks—so soft and vulnerable and beautiful—but Imogen’s heart swells and swells and swells until the words are spilling out of her—
“I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I wanted to kiss you.”
Laudna’s eyes snap to her at the confession, and Imogen thinks her heart might just give out with how fast it’s beating against her stare. “...You do? I didn’t dare think…I thought that was just your head injury talking.”
Anxious energy strumming through her, Imogen sits up onto her elbow as she rambles on. “And I know you said all that stuff about not, ya know, accessin’ that part of your brain when Dusk asked you out. I know you don’t feel the same way, and it’s okay , I’m okay with that, but…but I had to make sure you knew.”
“Imogen…”
She closes her eyes tight against a burning wave of tears that threaten to spill. “Because you are special. I knew it from the first moment we met, from the first time I heard your mind, how musical and beautiful it was—is. ”
“Imogen—”
“A-and I hope you don’t hate me for feelin’ this way. I’ve held on to this for so long. I just didn’t wanna ruin our friendship but now I’m scared I have—”
“Imogen!”
The sound of Laudna’s voice cuts through her ramblings, and she opens her eyes to find soft, cool hands on her cheeks, already wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes.
“You haven’t ruined anything, darling.” Laudna says, “You asked me earlier if I remembered picking blueberries…and I do. I remember the way you laughed, the way you wrinkled your nose when you first tried it." She chuckles softly seemingly at the memory, "You made—make me feel so alive. And yes, maybe I haven't...thought about it much in romantic terms, haven't let myself think that someone like you could ever truly feel that way about someone like me..."
“How could I not?” Imogen interrupts, urgency and desperation edged in her tone. Laudna has to know. She has to know how she makes Imogen feel, has to know that she’s spent every day of the last two years falling in love with her. “You’re incredible—”
Laudna shakes her head with a soft smile as she continues, unimpeded. “But this—us—it makes sense. I think it always made sense, and I think…I’d very much like to kiss you, too.”
And oh, how Imogen wants to taste her, wants to consume her and be consumed in return. Oh how she wants to bring Laudna between her lips and devour her, to press secret marks onto the faded scars of her neck, and to be delivered and beholden by its meaning.
And so she does.
With urgency, with need, with love, Imogen leans forward and captures Laudna’s lips in the way she’s always dreamed of. It’s all-consuming, the way their lips meld together ushered by Imogen’s every want and hope and fear. Kissing Laudna is like coming home, like eating blueberries, like laughter in the middle of the night. Kissing Laudna is like honey and music and freedom and feels so much like love.
When they finally pull apart, giddy and shy and smiling, Imogen rests her forehead onto Laudna’s.
She may not know all the answers, but she does know that “We’ll figure this out—together.”