Things had blown over since Nairn's confession, then later apology-proposal. She no longer felt the hollow fatigue that each day brought, heart torn, the future uncertain. Even after accepting his proposal there were still a great many unknowns, but Meg chose to take them all one at a time, day by day.
On this day, she was making a personal visit to her lover’s new mechanic, basket of goodies in tow though by Ruth’s account she’d prefer the other thing in her possession. The complete hollow of Nairn’s heart. Megara understood her own limitations. She could heal flesh and bone, cure diseases and remove someone’s pain, but she knew nothing of engineering, nor how to incorporate it medically besides prosthetics. This dwarf might be the key to figuring out what alluded June and Sylaise.
While Ruth had been forthcoming enough, he had become unusually guarded when she asked some more probing questions, hoping to have a gauge of the woman before turning up on her doorstep. It put her in an awkward position, unsure of the type of reception she’d receive, but leaning towards positive as always.
Compared to Nairn’s monochromatic attire, Megara’s was based in earthy tones or more colourful pastels yet the underlying theme always seemed to base itself in a variety of greens. Today was no different, the signature ivy green scarf hung proudly around her neck, draping over her bare shoulders to protect them in the sun. The hem of her dress was stained with dirt hinting to her love of gardening and cradled in her free hand was the bell of a pipe, nib placed into her mouth on occasion to take a quiet puff.
She regarded the high grass edges of the cottage for a moment, her brow featuring no wrinkle of disapproval nor praise, merely curious as to the permanency of residence, remembering Ruth’s words of a semi-transient life, similar to his own.
Definitely more to this dwarf then. He’s protective of this one, Megara thought to herself, allowing herself the enjoyment of a knowing smile. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.
In a few strides Meg made it to the door, dropping the basket to knock three times before hoiking it back into the crook of her arm. She’d listen out, her usual lopsided grin already slipping into place in greeting.
Hi. I heard you’re the new engineer for my foolish clockwork in progress. Uh, Nairn. I’m Megara. You must be Theodora, right?
Far from good, actually. Her hammock was a mess that she hadn’t been able to hang back up, and she had a slow ache that no matter how many times she’d taken care of herself, wouldn’t go away. And worse yet, she couldn’t head over to the Back Water to have that itch scratched because someone else had been heading that way. He had just been here to drop off her invitation from Nairn to the wedding. Which was all well and good, she had somewhat expected the cautious man to invite her along in case something busted during the whole shin-dig, but no, her forge was out too now, and she couldn’t find where the clay was cracked, letting the heat out, and it meant that she couldn’t get the coke in the firepot hot enough to heat the metal to where it could be hammered properly.
Thank the Stone she had the foresight to have made a couple of parts forward into what she thought might be the next parts to give out on Nairn’s heart. She’d sit down eventually and draft him up something entirely new, but between the stress of her lively hood, and the stress of being sexually pent up, her day had been spend on her knees in some shape, and she hadn’t been planning on company. So when the door was knocked upon, she had been waist deep into the hearth, under the cooling tank, rubbing soapy water across the clay to see if it bubbled when she kicked the bellows. So far, nothing had bubbled, telling her where the clay was cracked, and letting air out from.
She backed out from where she had been and went to the door, wiping her hands on her apron, for once in a nice shirt and leathers, expecting maybe Nairn come by, or sending one of the kiddos round to come fetch her for something. She hadn’t expected the elf on her doorstep, nor one that was as pretty as Mina. Oh. You’re the wife! Oh Come on in! Ach, call me Dora, Ruth does so you might as well too. Or Theo if you prefer.
She had since given up trying to correct Ruth, so she wasn’t going to correct anyone else. I’ve been puzzling over your man’s heart for long enough that I had been wondering if it was gonna be the wedding before I got to meet you. Is there a ring, may I see the ring? Dora waved her into her home, and immediately went to get a bottle of wetting your whistle wine, basically grape juice, but it had been Mina’s first attempt at a brewing there at the Back Water, and she had taken the bottle because it was good to have around when Danny dropped high and drunk fools on her.
Megara grinned at the welcome, chuckling, Well yeah, almost. It was unspoken, but the bond that threaded between his ribs to hers was unbreakable, it tied them to each other through every dark day back to the light in their lives. Following behind her, the dwarf’s preference of name soon caught Meg’s attention, her grin sly, shoulders offering an unseen shrug. Well, usually I call folks by what they prefer and not what Ruth calls them. But Dora’s better than Stoner, that’s what he calls me, so Dora it is.
Basket in one hand, pipe in the other the elf first scanned a place to deposit the goods brought, offering Dora a grateful nod. We… had a few things to talk about first. But I’ve something with me that’ll make your head tick over better, maybe, dunno I’m no engineer, but I reckon blueprints are handy. But there were other forged things on the woman’s mind, the metal around Meg’s finger was fidgeted with out of nervous habit before being brought up to admire. There is, and I’m biassed but he did a fine job at it, even if it’s taken a decade to ask and slip it on.
Aye, I've heard him call ya Stoner before, I'm supposing that has to do more with the pipe weed than my Faith, although, it did take me a little bit to figure out that he wasn't referencing the Stone. And I figure you're close enough to him that you get the privilege of the Dora nickname. She teased a little as she took a clean cloth off her sideboard and wiped down the seat, to make sure. Dora's home was normally nice and tidy, a bit fastidious even, to someone from the outside, but she had been crawling under her forge just a few minutes ago, and even though she cleaned it like a religious experience there had still been creosote in there, and she wasn't risking her guest getting a dirty behind because some stray soot fell off and onto the well made wooden chair. Once she was satisfied that it was clean, nearly shining enough to view a reflection in, she patted a hand on it's back, to indicate the chair was for Meg.
Blueprints are good, I got a good look at the hollow thing he had with him the last time Nairn was by. Started to make a few parts ahead, in what I reckoned would be the next ones to need maintenance. It's a funny thing, that chest of his. Not sure how he came about it, and know it's none of my damned business to know either. He pays me to keep it serviced, not ask questions, and that's good enough for me. And it was. Dora was making monies hand over fist keeping the machinery serviced properly, and then there had been the delivery of the invite by Ruth. She still needed to go back out and hang her hammock properly. And then the ring was shown.
He made it, did he? She didn't touch, but the craftsmanship of the band alone, the intricate vine with individually hammered leaves, the green so bright that it made her sigh happily. The gems too, were masterfully cut. She could twist metal into gears, into weapons, but it took a special sort of touch to create something so beautiful from metal, to melt it down, to hammer it soft and fold it over on itself to get such a beautiful pattern to it. She nodded, pleased. I was gonna go fuss at him if he had given you anything less than the best. And that was the truth. Nairn had money, but he also had a quiet way about him that didn't bother her in the slightest. He didn't tell her anything, but Nairn spoke more truth to Dora than Ruth did -- and Dora valued truth and trust almost as much as she did her own life. Too bad it oft felt like the world was out to betray her at every turn. Have a seat, tell me about what you feel comfortable telling me.
The woman was dying for some gossip and her mind taken off her broken forge.
Meg laughed, No, I’ve not hurled rocks at him, but give him time. If there’s anything I’ve learned about him, is to expect the unexpected. Meg rolled her eyes slightly, then cast a cursory glance around Dora’s little cottage, her smile faltering a little, still getting used to the new house back in Arlathan. I have to thank him, however, even if it’s painful to admit it. It’ll make his head big for weeks and he’ll be unbearably smug. Letting out a sigh, Meg started pulling out the vegetables from her garden, laying them onto the counter.
Her nose scrunched up at catching Dora try and spruce up her home, snickering If I turned up anywhere clean, Nairn’d think I’m an imposter. Don’t worry about it. and leaving the basket where it was Meg took the seat offered. I gave Ruth a copy, but mine has some notes from a … well I suppose June is a friend. My spirit Sylaise, her mate June was the greatest of Elvhen craftsman. I thought they could help so.
Reaching into an inside pocket Meg retrieved the hollow crystal, playing with it in her hand before setting it on the table. As Dora expressed the similar sentiment that most Coterie or affiliate whispered about, she nodded, the usually jovial elf growing suddenly sombre. The Boom is what happened. Shrugging heavily, Meg leaned back into her chair. That Grey Warden blew up the Chantry, Nairn was caught up in it… to save his life some dwarves tried this, but he couldn’t do anything but lay on his back for a few years. Those were the facts plain and simple. Sadness quickly faded as Dora studied her ring, brushing off the past with a chuckle, Na, he had it made, but he’d only settle if it’s done right.
Meg’s pipe was fished out, the bell cradled in one hand as she placed the nib into her mouth. A sly grin curled to one side. Well… I’m not an engineer, but that hollow will tell you more than I could about it. Or were you meaning more personal things, like his favourite colour? She tried to joke, but even she admitted it was weak. Ruth’s also the best surgeon you’ll find to help. I can’t. I-I have to hold his hand.
That's right, you have one of those old elfs in you. I think I knew that at one point. Maybe I heard it somewhere, that or I'm pulling that outta my ass and my memory is shit. Dora chuckled as she scratched at her cheek, a line of soot deposited there as she folded her arms over her chest. It's not a small thing, the hollow. It helps a lot. Notes will help too, when it's time to rebuild it properly. She thought about it. I lost my parents, right before the Boom, so I wasn't here, but when Ruth had said dwarves worked on it before, I thought it had to be my parents, but it wasn't their work. It.. it would have been done better. She nodded.
It's going to be done better. She told Meg, with the full conviction in her voice. Any of it. How you two met, what's kept you together so long. I'm assuming his favorite color is green or black, just because. She nodded again as she relaxed some more. Meg was a good person, and it felt nice to have the company there with her. Ruth didn't stop by enough for her liking.
I know, he's put me back together so many times at this point, I feel like he's my personal surgeon. And I'll want him here any time I have to switch out any of the main parts. A gear or two here and there not a bad thing, I can turn it by hand as I manipulate a new one into place, but for something larger, I'd need a surgeon with me. For his safety. And ain't nothing wrong with not being able to work on your love. Sometimes the best you can do by someone, is to be there being their strength when it comes down to it.
The extra info helped. They had most likely had him on his back because of the cavity in which the mechanical heart sat in needed time to well.. hollow out, so that it could hold the heart properly. It was a nasty bit of business, and Dora had been happy that it hadn't been her parents that did it, even if she was sad that their deaths, had they not been murdered, they might have been able to build Nairn something better from the start. Here, bring your version of the hollow up, and let me get my notes, I'll show you what the next steps are since you seem to be well aware of what's going on with it, so you can help me help Nairn understand the importance of the order, if not from a profession perspective, from a healer's perspective. I'm too versed in taking people apart, of putting machines together, but I figure between the two of us, you can tell it to him better than either of us alone could. She got up and went into her workshop and brought back several vellum sheets, ones that could be laid over one another, to give the entire picture of something when turned the right way.
Someone just seeing one or even several on her workbench, would never figure out the order, and the twisting required to give a full view of her mechanical blueprint. No, only she knew the order to lay them in to where everything liked up perfectly. I figured since your man has some people out there that don't take to keenly to him, anything I put down to paper needed to be easy to destroy. She explained as she stacked them and rotated each sheet the right way, until the casing and the internal working suddenly appeared on the last twist of vellum. There..
Meg grinned, Yeah, you’re spot on. Sylaise was known as the Hearth Keeper. She taught us a great deal in the old Kingdom, but… I don’t think I’ll be her host much longer. A mixed look crept across her smile for a moment, the two had found solace in one another but like all partnerships, they came to a natural end. She’s almost able to be resurrected. Something I know Nairn is praying to happen soon, but I… I’m going to miss having her around in my head.
She sobered with deep breath, the warm smile that naturally sat there returning easily. It wasn’t a good time, but change is never a smooth path, it creates casualties, but so does doing nothing to fix a broken system. Shrugging, she happily parted with the crystal. Ruth has a good eye for recognising talent, I’m glad he knew of someone of superior quality for the job. Nairn’s too important to us to let go so easily, not again.
Meg sank deeper into the chair, chuckling while suppressing the giddy temptation to gush about the man she’d spent nearly two decades head over heels for, mourned and now celebrated their reunion. I was part of the C for a while and… I suppose when you know… you know. He fills a missing piece I didn’t know was missing and realised I can’t really go without it. Even with him ‘dead’ she hadn’t been able to move on from his mark on her heart and it seemed, from what Dora confessed, someone had it bad for the other man in their lives.
The nib found the corner of her mouth, masking the grin that curled knowingly as she praised the other Dalish. Personal surgeon, huh? The bell flared into life with the lit thumb, the earthy scent of elfroot smoking into life. Ruth had the fortune… misfortune? of spending a few years trapped in a Circle. Unlike me, he got some deeper study and practise. I’d have him do it just cos of that reason alone…. He can’t grow herbs for shit though. Snickering at his expense, Meg went on, He got out obviously, joined a merc group that passed through Kirkwall between jobs. He saved Nairn… or Nairn saved him, I can’t really remember, but he struck a deal helping out the C as a freelancer when he was in town.
Shrugging her brows, Megara shifted forwards, taking a toke of the pipe while activating the hollow for Dora to examine. A series of scribbled annotations peppered various points all scratched down in ancient elvhen. Oh. Yeah. I’mma need to translate this. securing the pipe Meg’s fingers weaved in a way, the text rippling before the characters changed into a more recognizable script. Trust me. I’ll make it more than clear to him that your plan is his best chance. He knows my feelings on him kicking the bucket before me.
Peering over the vellum, Meg stretched out her hand over the working blueprints. Clever. Sneaky too, following it with some muttered Dalish, He really does know how to spot a diamond.
The idea of having something, someone else inside her head was just something Dora couldn't wrap her head around, and was glad, for about the millionth time in her life that she had absolutely no magical aptitude, because she would never had made it with something in her. She took a breath to reply, and then looked at Megara's face -- now was not the time to linger on it. There would be time for questions later, when the impending fear of losing a companion wasn't so new or scary. Instead, she nodded with her assessment of Ruth. Crass, a shameless flirt, but he did know talent. Dora leaned in as Meg kept talking, listening intently on anything that she could to know more about the two men. Nairn, so that she could accurately anticipate any hitches or things that would make it harder for her to service the machine in his chest, Ruth? Well, that was more than professional curiosity at this point.
The fact the elf was making more consistent appearances in her dreams had her flushing in shame when she would think about it, and hearing more about him he was definitely in her mind. Never struck me as someone who had enough patience for growing. It takes an artistic and discerning hand to tell which plants will make it, and which need to be culled to give the others the best chance. She hadn't known he had been in a Circle. It added another layer of knowledge to her growing "file" in her brain. Eventually she would feel like she knew the man, but for now, she was left with more questions, and not ones she was just going to "casually" as a friend. Seems like the C tends to use a lot of free-lancers when it comes right down to it. Better than keeping everyone on immediate payroll, I assume.
The pipe smoke was soothing, triggering memories of how her father would smoke a pipe in the evenings when she had been a child, it made her smile to herself as she watched the hollow activated, and the translation take place. She was happy to see, for the most part, that her memory of the schematic was correct to what she had committed down to paper, her graphite pen coming out to make a few changes here and there, tiny things in the grander scheme; another tine on a gear, a little sharper angle than drawn. Her eyes went back and forth between the two, until she had made all the corrections needed. Her schematic and measurements were now in line with the hollow.
I think.. at least, I feel like.. I'm one of the last dwarven mechanics out there. I have to make sure that my designs can't be picked up by any old hack and recreated after my death. It needs to be someone with a clever enough mind to appreciate the work that goes into making something like this, or like my cross-bows. If everyone can do it, then what's the point of spending as much time learning all the secrets. She arched a brow at the Dalish, the words passing right over her head. She committed the intonation into memory though, she'd ask Ruth about it the next time she saw him. If I write it all down and hand it to someone, they won't put in the effort it takes to forge a truly masterful piece. Part of learning is failing, after all. She grinned and then shrugged,
That and I'm selfish when it comes right down to it. My parents took apprentices after they finished teaching me, dunno what happened to them, but I figure one day I'll have to take one myself. Just really wondering if I have the patience for it yet or not. Or if there's someone out there invested enough in learning a dying art. She nudged the blueprints closer. I'm not sure how much of his chest has atrophied in the process, so making it any smaller probably won't matter, it's been in him for ten years now, yes? There's probably no.. no coming back from how it's housed now, but I should be able to make it so that the critical parts are more protected by flipping the assembly. I'll make sure that there's no reason for his heart to be the reason he's not around for many many years of domestic bliss. We'll at least the mechanic part of his heart.
Megara caught the hesitation but let it slide. Dora was still relatively a stranger and while Ruth vetted her, the healer still had to be fully convinced. For both the men in her life’s sake. Hyper aware that the last time she had encouraged Ruth to open up had backfired, Meg was more cautious with oversharing. He valued his privacy and much like Nairn, was slow to trust anyone new. Ruth’s always been a man for the written word than digging in the dirt, but you’re right. It does take a particular type of patience. Maybe that’s why he raids tombs instead; you can’t hurt the dead. A statement that held more undertone and meaning than on the surface.
Megara chuckled, That info is above my paygrade. Nairn and I have a rule now though. I don’t stick my nose in C’s business - within reason - and he leaves his out of Arlathan. It’s not a perfect system, but it’s what we decided. There would be overlap, but for the moment nothing had come up other than a council meeting where Megara laid out her position.
After fixing the annotations into common Megara sank back into the chair, periodically sucking on the nip while the dwarf copied. She watched carefully, trying her best to follow the designs and how they’d match in with the squishy, fleshy parts Meg was more intimately familiar with. She’d grin a little. I don’t think you’re the last. One of the brightest for sure. Nairn’s not easily impressed, Ruth’s even worse, but I bet the boys could help find you an apprentice. If you wanted one.
I’ve had a few, though I wouldn’t call them my apprentices, more students. I taught them for a time, helped build their knowledge in the foundation and then it’s up to them to add on it. Grow. Maybe once things settle, I’ll maybe teach again, but I think I’m busy enough, Nairn already tells me I’m not sleeping enough. Sylaise too. Her tone remained playful, light, even as Dora nudged the blueprints closer, speaking to Nairn’s chest. If it has, it’ll likely be worse than you think. Nairn has a habit of pushing himself too far, but it’s how I found him again so I can’t complain too much. I can nag him into taking it easier, which he loves and hates.
She planned to have many years of domestic bliss, but Megara wasn’t naive, she’d never shied away from what and who Nairn was. He was a killer, but the good outweighed the bad in her eyes.
A marriage is about compromises, yes? Seems like the two of you already are making the compromises where it matters, so while not perfect, it's the system that works for you. She decided to leave the talk about Ruth to the side for the time, she had learned what she could for the moment, without it being obvious she was prying, and for that, it was good enough. She didn't need anyone questioning her just yet why she wanted to know more, after all, she herself wasn't too certain why she wanted to know more, only that she did, and after a matter of time, she knew it would come to her.
Not so much right now, as far as an apprentice, but a second set of hands when I have to do some of the more fine work with the metal keeping the furnace hot and ready would be good. I know I started manning the billows for my da when I was.. four? Maybe five. Grew up around the forge, so I have a healthy respect for it. It's usually how it's passed along, so you grow up respectin the fire and the metal both, and what you try and accomplish with them. It's hard to teach someone older that sort of reverence, probably why I hesitate so when it comes down to it. She snorted some, but shrugged the memory of her parents away. Any more dwelling on them and she was bound to be in her cups sooner, rather than later.
Good to know, so it does hurt when you prick him. I figured as much, men folk like that tend to not tell when they hurt, or if something is wrong, a sign of weakness, especially if he does what I think he does.. or did, would be a sure way to wind up dead. It's strategic in a way, keeping that much secret, hidden from the outside world, any outside eyes. Which means I'll have to be really pointed when I chat with him while working, can't have something causing pain while I'm working, because when it comes to the smaller delicate parts a twitch here or there from a pain, well.. She trailed off -- some of the smaller pieces were delicate and required sharp tools, so it'd be a situation of a potential stab wound versus just having to be still a little while longer if the man did feel a pain. It wasn't something she normally had to be wary of, or even worry about, someone feeling pain while she worked. It added a new element to the whole thing that would have her thinking about it for days to come.
It'll just be as long as it takes to flip the housing, the easy part for him, taking it easy and all, the difficult part for me. I'll be honest, the thought of just doing basic maintenance to keep collecting that hefty retainer crossed my mind. You don't look at money like that side ways, and it'd be easy to keep making replacement parts here and there and just doing the maintenance, but, Theo leaned back some, frowning. She was a mercenary, normally she wouldn't have a problem taking money from someone for something dumb, but this was different. I'd like to have met who put that in his chest is all. I'd have a couple choice words for them and their "design" of it. It's why I need to flip it for him, sure there's a plate over it, but a well placed hit from a war hammer? I mean, I suppose it's the same as a fleshy heart, but flipping it over, so that the finer mechanical parts will be protected by the struts means that he could take a hit to the chest and not have to worry if the whole thing will keep ticking. But this could have not been their final design either, some mechanics don't think with the end in mind, just getting it up and running. Thinking a design through for the test of time takes talent. She shook her head then and looked over to the other woman, Don't worry about him, I'm gonna make certain that it's made to last for as long as you elves live. And he's fine for right now, just.. don't take a hammer to that plate over his heart. She took a deep breath, nodding to herself, it would take a bit more time, but she was going to make sure that going forward, Megara would be able to take care of any maintenance work. After all, they'd far outlive her, so she had to make sure it was something the two of them could take along for the centuries they'd still live together.
Now what's this about not getting enough sleep? Do I need to send you home with a good, fruity red that'll help knock you out?
Yes and no. Some people don’t work out their differences before saying yes. Sometimes it works out for them, but not always. How many spouses had come through her door before they left the piece of garbage beating them black and blue? A marriage is only successful if both parties are able to give and take, as well as compromise. I don’t approve of how Nairn carries out some of the C’s business, but from being a Coterie, I know it’s better in his hands than anyone else's. Some things you just accept and live with, there are bigger battles you’ll face and know, the person beside you is fully with you. Faults and all.
Megara nodded. Ah. So what you need is more of an assistant. I’m sure Nairn will let you have the pick from his litter of mini-versions. She chuckled, leaning back into the chair. He’d have a few candidates if she wished to try any out, and it kept another of Nairn’s ‘kids’ out of the killing field.
I grew up in the dirt. In the Dirth itself for a while. I learned everything about plants from my mother, while my father… She smiled with great fondness, his passing harder on her from the close bond. Even with his duties as Keeper, there was always a gentleness about him. Maybe that’s why she and Nairn worked? The opposites balancing out.
Megara suddenly laughed, pulling the nib of the pipe out of her mouth in a billow of smoke. Sorry, I mean, that’s how we met. Her grin became sly, playful as she remembered how he’d sung to her in the delirium of blood loss. Nearly bled out on my table. Got all up in his insides before he even told me his name. He’d intrigued her ever since, sensing an indescribable pull towards him whenever they shared a moment.
She listened as Dora trailed off, returning to discussing the housing and process of fixing Nairn’s engine. Oh he’ll just love our nannying. I can just feel the silent raging already, but he’ll keep you around. Even if he fired you, I’d pick up the tab. I’ve waited too long for that man to screw up at the last hurdle. Grimacing at Dora’s assessment, Megara could only offer her an uncertain shrug. They might have? The explosion was huge… they might not have thought about future problems when keeping him alive was the priority. Life quality might not have even been considered given the gravity of his injuries. The pain must have been excruciating. The immobility even worse until he’d been able to regain his strength. It’s a small miracle that he’s made it this long… so anything, ten years, twenty… I know you said it might tick on for forever, but I don’t really want to figure out immortality. Just enough to grow old together.
Time was precious, and they’d already used enough of it being foolish.
I run a City, somehow. And for the moment it hasn’t burned to the ground. A little sleep loss is expected. She snickered, expression then becoming thoughtful. I certainly won’t say No to the wine though Nairn might come and scold you in the morning when he finds me hanging from the chandelier. If he comes home tonight.
Dora let the idea of an apprentice, an assistant sit with her for the time being, she really didn't want to teach anyone else how to work the forge, how to master an art that had taken her nearly twenty years to get as good as she was at. It had taken her time, and effort, and not even the murder of her parents had stopped her from learning. Even when she had been out tromping the world over, selling her axes for a price, she had learned, had put to use the secrets her parents had given her before they had died. Things she repeated to herself over and over in her mind, especially when she tried to recall their images. She had a small painting, but somehow, they never looked the same as the mental image she had of them.
The jealousy she felt of not being able to dream of them had long ago died away when she had realized she couldn't remember the smell of her father's pipe tobacco. Megara's was nice, it was familiar, not all together strange for her, but it wasn't -- it didn't bring forth the memories that she yearned for. One day she would get a whiff somewhere and it would flood back a torrent of pain and grief that sat unresolved in her, but not for years yet to come. No, she'd keep her art to herself a little while longer, maybe take someone on to help stoke the fire when she worked, but she wouldn't teach the dwarven craft to just anyone. They'd have to prove they wanted it, first.
Somehow, it paints a different picture of him, knowing you didn't get his name first either. She grinned gently at the thought, taking a dep breath as the memories of her parents still lingered at the edge of her consciousness. Oh I won't nanny him, but if he pisses me off I may make something sting a little, no lasting damage of course. I'll leave the fussing to you and Ruth. Think he'd like it better if I was quite for him. She was pretty sure of it at least, and Nairn paid her well enough that she wasn't going to question the majority of what she needed to do for him over the next few weeks at least. Now if he stopped by and said he needed a place to stay, or needed her to do some wet works, well then, that would come with an additional bit of price attached to it.
She frowned, Either way, they did him a disservice without taking a little bit to actually think about what they were doing, but I can understand, when the life is ... sinking out of someone, it's a lot hard to stop and go, 'Oh yeah, if I put this in here like this, and some arsehole hits me in the chest is it going to squeak and miss-fire now and then. She tugged at her earlobe, thumb rubbing behind the flap of flesh as she thought, a nervous tick maybe, or maybe a means of comfort while she thought.
Oh then we're definitely sending you back to him with a bottle or two of wine, and I'll even walk you home so I can tell him myself I gave it to you. Never mind that we might drink some of it on the way. Probably should take more than two bottles then, I think it's a long walk to the Eluvian, yeah? Maybe some bread and cheese, make a nice walk of it, because if you're going to be swinging from the lighting, I want to make sure I deserve the scolding he comes up with. The grin that had been there before, grew a bit wider then, thinking about the taller elf coming to fuss at her about sending Meg home drunk. It wasn't like it would be the worst thing she could ever do.
Megara laughed, the kind of laugh that started deep in her chest and bubbled up, free and unrestrained. Nairn had many fronts, masks that he wore to hide his true feelings about something and someone, but she could see the slight differences, the minute changes in his demeanour that hinted at the truth. He hates fussing, but I know, now we’re back in each others lives, every day he has is a gift. I already mourned him once and he watched me do it.
As Dora fetched her a glass the girls talked more, the wine fueling Megara’s looser tongue. She twirled the empty glass in her hand, the dregs of wine glinting in the dim firelight.
Alright, Dora, she said, grinning wide, you win. Let’s raid your stash, grab some bread, cheese, and whatever else we can carry without spilling, and make an adventure out of it. You’ll get your first real glare of disapproval from Nairn, but don’t say I didn’t warn ya.
~ Some time later ~
The cool night air wrapped around Megara like a gentle embrace as she stepped out into the streets, the wine already making her steps a little unsteady. She cradled a half-full bottle of red in one hand, the other clutching a sack of bread and cheese. Her laughter echoed softly off the narrow stone walls, a lightness in her chest she hadn’t felt in ages.
The world felt softer tonight, the edges less sharp. Perhaps it was the wine, or maybe the company—but making their way through the labyrinth of the city, Megara couldn’t stop smiling.
Nairn’s going to lecture me for this, she murmured, voice warm with amusement. The thought of his disapproving expression only made her grin wider. She could already imagine him standing there, arms crossed, brow furrowed in that way that always made her want to kiss it away.
By the time they reached the Eluvian, her steps were less than graceful. She fumbled with the magic, muttering under her breath about overly complicated magical nonsense. When the portal shimmered open, the pair stumbled through with a giggle that she quickly tried—and failed—to stifle.
And there he was.
Nairn stood in the square, his arms crossed, his face a study in composed irritation. But she knew him too well; the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. He was trying not to smile.
Megara raised the bottle triumphantly, her grin impossibly wide. I brought wine! she declared, as though that excused everything. And bread. And cheese. An entire feast, really. Dora was a great host.
He sighed, his arms wrapping around her in an embrace that was completely home to her. “You’re impossible.”
And you are very handsome, she shot back, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. Her smile was softer now, less playful, but no less sincere.
He didn’t answer, but the way his hand lingered at the small of her back said enough.
Hmm, I'm sure my employer is going to give me a stern look and grip a dagger even tighter as he glares at me, bringin his lady home drunk, but I did bring you home. Dora laughed, as she nursed at her own bottle of red. The path was an easy enough one, and Dora had one of her rebuilt hand crossbows at her side, Vera, her axe, was slung across her back. It didn't matter much to her if someone came across them, she would be able to fight if needs dictated she needed to fight. After all, she could have a couple bottles of the red they were downing, and be naught for worse come morning. This wouldn't be any different, and she was not going to let her new friend drink alone. I brought weapons too, I can threaten him right back if he decides to fuss too much.
She waited, as Meg worked on the Eluvian, sniffing at the magic as she looked it over. She hated the damn things, the cold that it felt like moving through one, but she wasn't going to take the job of escorting Megara home half way, she would see it through to the end. It's all nonsense, dear, every last bit of it. She slipped an arm through Meg's as they moved through the magic, and she caught sight of the tall bastard, with his fabulous white hair. It isn't fair he has such great hair. Tch. She chuckled as Megara moved forward and she nodded gently, waiting for the woman to make her way to the man. Don't forget about the meat pie and the fruit pie either, a full meal really. We were going to have a picnic! I think.
She sniffed again as she tried to get the feel of magic travel off her, a free hand going to her messy black curls to ruffle at them once. Mmm, and I promise she's only had what ever is missing from that bottle, I didn't even have to carry her. The glassiness, and giddiness that had been there just a moment ago, slid away for a moment, allowing Nairn to see that she had kept well in sober territory, regardless of the state of Megara at the moment. And she nodded, once, to the man. She wouldn't have walked the woman home, had she not been fully capable of protecting her. And well, Dora was no spring chicken when it came to protecting herself. The moment that Megara looked at her though, Dora was jolly once again, wide smile and lax features, affecting more drink than she had consumed for the sake of her new friend. I think we need to eat soon, soak up some of this wine.
Megara swayed slightly as she grinned up at Nairn, the warmth of the wine still buzzing pleasantly through her veins. Dora’s voice, ever playful, made her giggle as she caught onto the bit about his hair.
One of my fave things about ‘im, not gonna lie, she said, reaching up as if to ruffle the pristine white strands but missing entirely, her hand flopping against his shoulder instead. That and the scowling. He’s very good at scowling.
Nairn exhaled sharply, whether in amusement or exasperation, she wasn’t sure. Maybe both. His grip on her was firm but careful, like he was assessing just how much trouble she was in.
She tapped his chest lightly with one finger. I behaved. I promise. Dora can confirm, if she weren’t already conspiring to make me look worse than I am. Her tone was playful, her lopsided grin still firmly in place. We even brought food! Fruit pies, meat pies—a feast, really. A respectable picnic. We just... got a little sidetracked.
Megara turned, catching Dora’s eye with a grin. Speaking of, you should come inside, sober up a little before you head back or just crash here. Unless, of course, you’d rather test your luck wandering the streets alone with only your fabulous hair envy to keep you warm.
She snickered again, biting back a comment of trying to tame a certain healers hair for the moment. Meg hadn’t quite had enough wine for that, so instead gave Nairn’s arm a light pat as if to soften the invitation for him. I mean, you wouldn’t turn away a guest, would you, love? Especially one that got your missus safely home?
Her voice was sweet, expression all innocent mischief. She knew full well that Nairn barely tolerated guests on a good day, but that only made it more fun to see his reaction.
“It’s fine, until you both pass out. No being sick though.”
Aye, aye, Cap'n. Don't think I'm quite there anyways.
