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laudna knows it's going to be a bad day before she's even fully awake. the light streams into her eyes, and she flinches away, closing them to let the sun assault her eyelids instead. her body aches and it feels as if somebody has taken a chisel to her skull. she tries to breathe shallowly, the nausea rising quickly in her stomach. they'd picked up some of the tea that didn't aid the pain, but it did soothe the nausea that accompanied it. not that she'd told imogen why she wanted it. she considered it, she did, but truthfully she was scared imogen wouldn't like her anymore. scared that this was one too many levels of broken and heavy. so she didn't tell her. just said she liked the taste, even when the vendor explained the medicinal purposes.
laudna knows she should sit up. judging by the sun on the back of her eyelids—she really should mend those curtains today—it was almost time for imogen to wake, and laudna doesn't want, can't bear the idea of, imogen seeing her like this. she needs to sit up. she shuffles her hands along the slightly hard mattress—that needs to be restuffed. it won't be long before it isn't good for imogen's back—and braces herself before pushing upwards. it's her dogged determination not to wake imogen that keeps her from making any noise, outwardly at least. her mind is a little louder, and she immediately regrets it when she hears the soft, pained gasp from her side.
“imogen?” she stammers out, still reluctant to open her eyes against the light, “i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to wake you, please go back to sleep darling, it's okay.”
“laudna, it's—”
“no, really, imogen. it's fine, please go back to sleep, you need it.”
“laud—”
“let me just get out of your way, i'll go put some tea on and you can get some more sleep.”
“laud!” imogen's voice is sharp and laudna flinches away from it, opening her eyes in surprise. she recoils from the sun immediately, and there's a moment of still before the bed dips slightly differently. when laudna dares look out from behind her hands, imogen has sat in front of the window, blocking the light from reaching laudna. like this, she looks beautiful—imogen always looks beautiful—with her hair haloed in a soft gold tinted purple, her entire body gently outlined in the sun's gracious touch. of course the sun would softly caress imogen right after attacking laudna's vision. who wouldn't want to run their fingers over freckled cheeks and heavy but bright eyes, who would resist the chance to curl purple waves around their finger or clutch at lightning scarred hands, who—
“laud,” imogen murmurs, softly now, and laudna can see the blush scattering across her face.
“oh, hello imogen!” she says brightly. the volume, the pitch, of her own voice makes her flinch. she pauses, attempting to regulate herself from the inside, before imogen opens her mouth and laudna quickly hurries on.
“good morning imogen!”—no, a little quieter—“the weather does seem lovely today, doesn't it?”—that's too high pitched, it hurts.—“how are you doing?” oh, she did it. quiet, not too high. not so low it hurts her throat. a happy middle.
imogen doesn't answer for a long while, kneeling in front of laudna on the bed. she's looking at her with those brilliant eyes. scanning her. laudna thinks imogen could see right through to her slowly beating heart.
“i can't do that,” imogen chuckles, and laudna jumps. it sends a jolt of pain through her and she hisses. the concern is immediately back on that pretty face.
“darlin'? are you okay?”
“i'm fine!” her voice is too high again, and she wrestles it back down as she forces herself to rise from the bed. it isn't as smooth as she'd planned, but she stops herself from letting any display of pain show.
“laud, i don't—”
“i'm very sorry imogen, i have a lot to do today. i really must get started, especially if we wish to have a comfortable bed tonight. i'm sure this one isn't especially comfortable for you. i need to fix the curtains as well, we can't have the sun waking you too early, you need your sleep. and i should probably figure out what we have in our bags so we know when we need to go shopping.”
'laudna.' it's said so softly, imogen's warmth pressing at her mind, that laudna stops talking immediately, her hand halfway to the wall that she was going to try and use to help herself around the cabin without letting imogen notice.
'yes, imogen?' it's become natural, almost, to respond mentally rather than out loud, and laudna is grateful for it. imogen's mind fits so sweetly in hers, and laudna's own responses don't hurt as much as speaking does.
'laud, you ain't okay.' she flinches, minutely, going to shake her head, but there's warm hands on her face, holding her still. laudna stiffens reflexively, used to touch hurting her, and the hands are gone as quickly as they appeared.
'darling, no, i'm perfectly fine.'
‘laudna,’ the sigh is soft, but it isn't coated in the dripping sense of disappointment laudna is used to. imogen sounds worried.
‘of course i’m worried. you're shakin’, laud. you made the most pain-filled noise i ever heard and i grew up on a farm, honey.’
‘i don't want to worry you,’ laudna replies, her shoulders slumping in defeat. she can't stand the idea of looking at imogen, desperately tracking a lone beetle in its journey across the floor.
‘laudna, look at me.’ she shakes her head, and imogen sighs that gentle, concerned sigh again. laudna doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve her kindness and her care, doesn't deserve company when she's like this, doesn't deserve imogen .
“darlin’,” imogen says, barely above a whisper. laudna expects it to hurt, like her own voice does, but imogen’s drawl is soothing to her head. it doesn't ring sharp or cruel, it doesn't try to cut through the fog peeking at the edges of her brain. it… settles, like it was supposed to be there.
“darlin’,” imogen repeats, her voice stronger this time, as if laudna's inner rambles had given her confidence, “please look at me.” laudna looks up. of course she looks up. she's still half expecting the disappointment, the pity, the disgust she'd seen too many times before. lazy, faker, she's heard it all.
none of it is there. she's met with concern, love, and slight fear.
“imogen,” she mumbles, her voice heavy with fatigue. imogen shakes her head, cuts her off.
“how about i make us some tea, you settle back on the bed, and then we can talk. good?”
“good,” laudna replies after a long moment, and she lowers herself back into the bed she'd hardly gotten a step away from.
the tea doesn't really do much. sure, the nausea is gentler now, less vicious, but the tea isn't a fixer. it's a smotherer, really, if such a thing exists. it blankets the nausea. later, it'll come back. it's the same cycle, every time, until the episode, or whatever it is, ends. still, laudna grips it so tightly her fingers hurt (well, more than before), so tightly the mug shakes with her effort. pâté is on the table next to the bed, laudna terrified she'd hurt him with her tremors. inogen had put him there when she'd noticed laudna shying away from him. she'd placed him so he looked like he was sleeping, put her soft yellow scarf over him like a blanket. laudna is filled with an overwhelming love for her every time she looks at him.
beside her, imogen is laying on her back, eyes closed and breathing soft. anybody else would think she'd fallen asleep, but laudna knows her little ticks, like the way her thumb brushed against the fabric of her pyjamas ever so slightly in a soothing motion.
“i know yours too,” imogen murmurs, eyes still closed.
“i do not doubt that, dear,” laudna replies, trying to inject a false cheerfulness into her tone.
“like, i know when you're tryin’ to sound all well’n’good but somethin’ isn't right. i know that you have these little bouts of pain that don't let you do things. you always close your eyes and do a little sigh before you eat, like you're tryin’ to prepare yourself for somethin’. you go a little dizzy after you stand, but you never stop to let it pass. you just push on and wobble for a minute.” imogen sounds sad, laudna thinks. she doesn't know how to answer, how to combat each of these shortcomings imogen has found.
“what i don't know, laud, is what's goin’ on, or if i can help. how i can help. because i want to help. i love you, laud, i want to help.”
“i love you too,” laudna answers, and she finds her voice thick with tears, “i just don't know how to start.”
“you can start however you like, darlin’, even if it takes a minute. i’ll stay with you, no matter what.”
and so laudna explains. with trembling voice and ichor tears, laudna explains how she'd never been well, even when she was alive. how she was always so tired, so short of breath. how her body hurt all the time, but some days it was worse. how she had a pit of nausea in her stomach more often than not, but she was never sick. how people at home had just thought laudna wanted to get out of chores, that she was just being lazy. the bottle of laudanum that lived at her bedside and never helped much. the way it worsened when she fell from the tree as a child, and how it got worse again when she fell from the tree newly deceased.
“i’ve learnt how to handle it the best i can, over the years, but i still have days when it's much worse than i can deal with. there's no fix for it, just ways to make it a little easier.”
“laud,” imogen whispers once laudna has exhaled a long, shaky breath. laudna is nervous, waiting for the disgust, or worse, the pity.
“if you want me to go—” laudna starts, and imogen bolts upright. her hand whips out and closes around laudna's arm, lightning scars standing out against the thin limb.
“no, no, y’ain’t goin’ nowhere, i meant what i said earlier,” imogen says hurriedly. she continues talking, animatedly saying something that laudna’s sure is sweet and kind and loving, but her words have faded into the background as laudna stares at her arm.
this was… odd, to say the least. laudna was so used to everything hurting, to people's touch just exacerbating what already ached. she’d taught herself to shy away from touch, even when she felt so ill that all she wanted was someone to hold her. imogen’s touch was different . her fingers are warm against laudna's skin and laudna can't remember the last time it didn't hurt on a day like this. it must've been long ago, before everything had happened.
“hold me?” it's out her mouth before laudna can stop it, and she just wants to claw it back in as she looks up at imogen. the other’s smile is soft, her gaze filled with nothing but love, and laudna considers not clawing her words away.
“always,” imogen whispers. she lets laudna's wrist go and lays down again, wriggling a bit to get herself comfortable before she opens her arms. laudna hesitates for a moment, but imogen’s reassuring smile makes her move cautiously towards the other.
the instant laudna lays down, the moment imogen wraps her arms around her, laudna's mind eases. her body still hurts, she doesn't think imogen can fix that, but she does think that having somebody with her makes it easier to bear. no, having imogen makes it easier.
“i’m flattered, darlin’,” imogen says with a slight laugh. her voice rumbles through her chest, and laudna closes her eyes as she presses her face into warm fabric. one hand shifts as imogen moves the covers up over them, before it settles again on laudna's back, thumb rubbing small circles into her nightgown.
“i love you, imogen,” laudna murmurs, her eyelids drooping as imogen starts humming something softly. there's a slight rustle, before lips are pressed against the top of laudna's head.
“i love you too, darlin’. you get some sleep now, okay? i ain't goin’ nowhere ever again. not without you.”
laudna's last coherent thought is that maybe
odd
was the wrong word. maybe
home
was a better one. home, and imogen. yes, that sounds good to her.