Mari & Moirine - Let Go
Who: Mari & Moirine
When: Saturday afternoon
Where: ~the road~
Ratings & Warnings: Swearing, mild violence, teens.
It'd taken a lot of careful consideration before Mari had finally undone the sleeping girl's bonds. They'd traveled a few hours and the girl slept on, like her brother had. It'd taken a will of iron not to throw her into another barrel and leave her by the side of the road, or roll her into the river.
Now they'd settled for the night, the horses calmly grazing as though nothing had happened. She hated them. She hated the girl in the wagon even more. She hated the trees, the birds calling to each other above, each and every blade of grass. The thing to do, her mind was telling her, was to take a horse back, leave Moirine stranded here. Unfortunately though, she needed answers. Like 'why would you be so terrible to me for an accidental death when you seem to put my life on the line so easily?', 'why do the two of you keep drugging each other?' and her current favourite, as mr. Lamora would have put it 'how do you think it'll feel when I stuff you in this barrel and roll you all the way back to Tyrol, you brotherfucking bitch?'
So instead she sat by the fire, staring at the wagon, daring it to open, for Moirine to come out. She shifted on the ground, impatient, trying to will her out through the sheer force of her glower. She wasn't going to her, not this time, but it was difficult when she was taking so long to get out of the damn wagon.
She'd never been drugged before. Allen had become tolerant of the tonic she used to ease him into a dreamless sleep; Moirine had only ever taken drops of it, never a full dose. It took her ages to wake and, when she did, she found her ledger placed carefully at her elbow. Drowsily, she sat up and looked around the wagon. It was dark, but the moon cast a little light, enough that she could find the latch on the door.
Still disoriented, Moirine half-stumbled out into the open air. Her balance returned to her quickly, though clarity was slow in coming. What had happened? The last thing she could remember was... Staring forward through Mari and the fire, Moirine's mouth worked soundlessly as she tried to piece together the past. He'd- He'd tied her up. He'd drugged her. And he'd left.
He'd left her, even after he'd promised. She should never have lied to him, never told him that she didn't love him. Moirine sank to her knees, unsure of what to do with herself. She'd go after him. She had to tell him the truth. Nodding, the girl wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes. She'd find him. They were connected; all she had to do was reach out, and she'd find him.
"You're awake, then." Finally. Now that the girl was awake, Mari had lost track of how she wanted to begin. Moirine looked wretched though. Good, she thought grimly. Good.
"Your brother's gone." That much was probably obvious. Mari used a stick to stoke the fire, sending up sparks. Why had she trusted this girl? Put her faith in her? Watching her now, she couldn't find the answer. Neither would the rest of Tyrol, if they found out. Who would stand by her? The knowledge that she'd been too eager to gain her protection to see that rankled. "He told me some very interesting things before he left, though."
Reeling from everything that had happened, Moirine just sat there as Mari spoke. Shaking slightly, she did her best to ignore the last part. She knew that tone, knew what it meant. It was what Tyrol had been implying for as long as she could remember. It was what had finally driven them apart, Moirine knew. As much as it hurt to love each other in secret, it was that much more unbearable to try to be normal. Jude and Cerys... Happiness had made her so stupid.
"Shut up," she snapped, then got to her feet, rounding on the wagon and making for one of the horses. Moirine didn't care if it kicked her dead, she was going to find her brother.
"No!"
The force of her anger had her springing up and running to get between Moirine and the horses. "You don't get to just walk away from this!" She was nearly shouting, she realised, but it was difficult to calm when all she wanted was to make Moirine see just how much trouble she'd put each and every one of them into. When she spoke again, her voice was still close to a shout, her hands balling into fists automatically at her sides. "You lied to me!"
No? Moirine bore all the shouting, all the anger, then imperiously turned to walk around the other side of the wagon. She'd have her horse even if she couldn't ride it. Who knew how far Allen had gotten while she'd been asleep? Mari was nothing compared to him. She didn't care that she'd lied about... whatever Mari was talking about. Had Allen corrected her about the pardon? It was easy enough to predate. Avith and Michaela would be happy to act as witnesses if it meant currying her favor. She was like them now. They'd want to help.
It didn't matter, though. Mari could believe what she liked. Grabbing the reins, she hummed at the horse as she stared into its large, glassy eye, trying to soothe it. How did she disentangle it from the wagon? Moirine took a deep breath. She could do this.
Like a kettle boiling over, Mari shook with rage for a few seconds before letting out yell of anger and running after her to grab her arm. "Did you ever have any intention of pardoning me? Of ever going back to Tyrol?"
She should have just thrown her in the barrel and rolled her until she got the answers she wanted. "Get back from the horses and answer me!"
"Don't," she shouted, "Touch me." Moirine ripped her arm out of Mari's hold, ignoring the scratches that came with the violent gesture. She didn't owe this girl anything. She was a murderess, a heathen, a common criminal. Moirine backed away from the horse, though. Horses were easily scared, she'd heard.
"You let him leave. You don't deserve an answer!"
"I don't deserve an answer?" Mari stared at her, incredulous. "I put my head on the line for you! I have cooked for you and fed you! I have looked after you, driven you! Protected you from dangers!" At least she was backing away from the horses. Mari followed suit. "Done everything you have asked of me! And suddenly your brother comes along to inform me that you're tied up and unconscious in the back of the wagon, by the way you were never going to pardon me anything, oh and also he's calling the cancellari to take him back so I should drive off into the bloody sunset with you!"
Her eyes bright with rage, she took a deep, shaking breath. What if Cita had come with the Cancellari? If he honestly thought nothing of purging the Grounds, a place in the city with witnesses and guards, how easily could he wipe them all out? What if he somehow got out of Allen which direction they'd taken? "Does my life really mean so little to you?"
"No," she kept murmuring. She'd make it all work. Mari would get her pardon, she and Allen would be safe together. She didn't mean to hurt anyone. "He called them?" she asked helplessly. Moirine turned away, her face contorted in pain. They'd kill him. What else could they do? Crying, she honestly cared nothing for Mari's life. She'd meant to save it, meant to protect her, but now... If she couldn't look after Allen, what did anyone else matter?
"It was all taken care of," she murmured. "You ruined it." It kept repeating in her head. Finally, Moirine reached out to slap Mari as hard as she could. She'd let everything fall to pieces, then blamed her?
"How did I--" the rest of her sentence was stolen from her mouth by the slap. She cried out, her voice a mix of pain and rage, going to grab the front of Moirine's dress. Why couldn't she see what she'd done? "I did nothing! I have only done what I have been asked to do!"
Moirine wasn't The Occia anymore, a small voice inside her head told her. Would anyone care if she just left her out here? But no, as pleasing a thought as it was, as tempting as it was, she couldn't simply leave a young girl out here alone. They'd work something out, then go back to Tyrol. It would be alright. Just as soon as Moirine admitted she was wrong.
"You let him go!" she cried, for once unafraid to scream. He was so sick, yet this woman didn't see fit to care for him? What kind of person ignored someone so obviously in need? Even as Mari's hands were tangled in her dress, Moirine swung her fists weakly at her, then she broke down. Strangling herself while Mari half held her up. she gritted her teeth.
"You have to take me back to him," she murmured, "He doesn't know what he's doing. Please. For Allen."
"He didn't want to leave Tyrol." Mari stared at the girl in disbelief, ignoring the weak punches. Had he ever wanted to leave? No. Why else would Moirine have drugged him to get him out of Tyrol? Why else would he go back? "You can't just- spend your life forcing people to do things." She wasn't certain what she was trying to say anymore, whether she was arguing for Allen or herself.
"We're going back," but. There seemed to always be a catch in their relationship. 'I'll petition the king for your pardon, but, I will no longer be The Occia so really all I'd be doing would be making the king aware that you killed a noble'. 'I'll take you back but your brother may have committed suicide by Cancellari already'. She said the words again, her voice terse. "We're going back."
She was so furious that she couldn't find the words to argue. When did she force? When did she ever get what she wanted? Even now, she was doing her best to please others. Perhaps Allen didn't know he wanted to leave Tyrol, but who would ever think he was acting in his best interests? He'd done terrible things because he believed God was instructing him. And now Mari thought it was her place to instruct her on what her brother wanted?
There was nothing else to say. Moirine climbed up to sit in front of the wagon, one seat over from the driver's position.
"Get down from there!" Mari folded her arms, eyes dark and staring at the girl. "We need to get something straight first."
"We'll talk on the way," she said. Moirine made no attempt to move from her seat or even to look at Mari. As far as she was concerned, the girl was still indebted to her, pardon or not. And, the longer they waited, the further away Allen got.
Mari stewed for a few seconds, but finally jumped up. If she waited for too long, Moirine would probably only attempt to drive the wagon herself - something that could end poorly for her if the other girl turned out to be any good at it.
She took a deep breath, then pointed a shaking finger at the former Occia. "Never put my head on the line like that again. Never lie to me about something like that. And we'll get on better." Not well. Not fantastically. But at least they wouldn't collapse into physical fights every time they were left alone together.
Probably.
She did her best to stare forward, to stay collected. They would get further faster if they weren't busy arguing along the way. There was also the chance that Mari would leave her by the wayside or abandon the wagon. She couldn't take that chance, yet it was so hard not to react. Her hands curled into fists, choking the thick fabric of her skirt, as she fought back the urge to start shouting. Her brother had gone to die and Mari thought she was concerned with how they got on? Moirine had no intentions of speaking to the girl again once they were back in Balfour.
"I promise," she responded flatly, eyes on the ears on the horses and the road they framed.
Mari stared at her long and hard, then pulled herself into the driver's seat. The fire they'd left would burn down soon without any fuel and by then they'd be long gone. Hopefully. "We'll need to stop so the horses can rest in a couple of hours," she muttered, almost as an aside as she started them moving. "They can't travel all through the night, as much as you probably want them to."
She could stare all she wanted; Moirine sat up straight, ignoring the slight shaking of her shoulders. "Of course," she said far too evenly, "You know what's best for the horses." Her replies were chilly, but true.
It was much easier to relax once they were on their way. They would catch up to Allen, of that Moirine had no doubt. He'd no idea how to ride a horse and could only walk so fast. Perhaps the cancellari wouldn't be able to find him. Or- she almost didn't dare think of it- perhaps he would reconsider. Shivering slightly, Moirine curled up in her seat and ducked her chin against her chest. It would be more comfortable to ride in the back, but finding Allen was too important a task to leave to Mari.
"How far from Tyrol are we?"
If a horse with a wagon attached could do twenty to thirty miles in a day, with them having traveled - five days? Seven? Mari realised she wasn't certain anymore. The days had all blurred into one long mess of either doing more than her share of work or covering up her ears and running into the woods to avoid creepy entertainment with her dinner. "A few days."
The reply of 'we'll get there when we get there' was coiled on her tongue, ready to unleash. She had to grit her teeth together to keep herself from saying it. What had Allen said before? That he would be going to his god's justice. He'd been sleeping with his god's wife, a terrible enough crime without the added taboo of him being her brother. So basically, he'd gone to kill himself.
"I'm sorry," she managed after a moment. She wouldn't wish losing a sibling on anyone. Shifting, wriggling in her seat, Mari pulled her cloak off to rest it over her knees, her tongue pressing against her crooked front tooth. "You can take a bit, if you want," her voice was grudging as she lifted up a corner of her cloak. Likely as not, she wouldn't. And then Mari would be warm and she would be cold, just to prove a point. Fine, whatever. She didn't care.
A few days. Allen had a day on them without any means of quick transport. He had to wait for the cancellari to catch up to him. There weren't enough of them to spare to send in every direction. With any luck, the cancellari would have to start out from the city itself this morning. She could make it back to the citadel long before Allen did. She could think of a way to stop all this.
Moirine was so lost in her thoughts that Mari's sympathy almost didn't register. She was sorry? For a long moment, she did nothing, then took a corner of the cloak and laid it over her knees. "Thank you," she forced out.
Oh, she'd taken it. And now she had to sit next to her, sharing her cloak for the next who knew how long. Glum and tired, Mari threw a little more of her cloak over the other girl before sitting up so that she could see the road better.
Soon, though, the sound of the horses' rhythmic movements lulled her into calm. Mentally, she prayed to Saint Jude again, this time for a safe journey back. "We'll get there," she promised. "We'll get there soon."
When: Saturday afternoon
Where: ~the road~
Ratings & Warnings: Swearing, mild violence, teens.
It'd taken a lot of careful consideration before Mari had finally undone the sleeping girl's bonds. They'd traveled a few hours and the girl slept on, like her brother had. It'd taken a will of iron not to throw her into another barrel and leave her by the side of the road, or roll her into the river.
Now they'd settled for the night, the horses calmly grazing as though nothing had happened. She hated them. She hated the girl in the wagon even more. She hated the trees, the birds calling to each other above, each and every blade of grass. The thing to do, her mind was telling her, was to take a horse back, leave Moirine stranded here. Unfortunately though, she needed answers. Like 'why would you be so terrible to me for an accidental death when you seem to put my life on the line so easily?', 'why do the two of you keep drugging each other?' and her current favourite, as mr. Lamora would have put it 'how do you think it'll feel when I stuff you in this barrel and roll you all the way back to Tyrol, you brotherfucking bitch?'
So instead she sat by the fire, staring at the wagon, daring it to open, for Moirine to come out. She shifted on the ground, impatient, trying to will her out through the sheer force of her glower. She wasn't going to her, not this time, but it was difficult when she was taking so long to get out of the damn wagon.
She'd never been drugged before. Allen had become tolerant of the tonic she used to ease him into a dreamless sleep; Moirine had only ever taken drops of it, never a full dose. It took her ages to wake and, when she did, she found her ledger placed carefully at her elbow. Drowsily, she sat up and looked around the wagon. It was dark, but the moon cast a little light, enough that she could find the latch on the door.
Still disoriented, Moirine half-stumbled out into the open air. Her balance returned to her quickly, though clarity was slow in coming. What had happened? The last thing she could remember was... Staring forward through Mari and the fire, Moirine's mouth worked soundlessly as she tried to piece together the past. He'd- He'd tied her up. He'd drugged her. And he'd left.
He'd left her, even after he'd promised. She should never have lied to him, never told him that she didn't love him. Moirine sank to her knees, unsure of what to do with herself. She'd go after him. She had to tell him the truth. Nodding, the girl wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes. She'd find him. They were connected; all she had to do was reach out, and she'd find him.
"You're awake, then." Finally. Now that the girl was awake, Mari had lost track of how she wanted to begin. Moirine looked wretched though. Good, she thought grimly. Good.
"Your brother's gone." That much was probably obvious. Mari used a stick to stoke the fire, sending up sparks. Why had she trusted this girl? Put her faith in her? Watching her now, she couldn't find the answer. Neither would the rest of Tyrol, if they found out. Who would stand by her? The knowledge that she'd been too eager to gain her protection to see that rankled. "He told me some very interesting things before he left, though."
Reeling from everything that had happened, Moirine just sat there as Mari spoke. Shaking slightly, she did her best to ignore the last part. She knew that tone, knew what it meant. It was what Tyrol had been implying for as long as she could remember. It was what had finally driven them apart, Moirine knew. As much as it hurt to love each other in secret, it was that much more unbearable to try to be normal. Jude and Cerys... Happiness had made her so stupid.
"Shut up," she snapped, then got to her feet, rounding on the wagon and making for one of the horses. Moirine didn't care if it kicked her dead, she was going to find her brother.
"No!"
The force of her anger had her springing up and running to get between Moirine and the horses. "You don't get to just walk away from this!" She was nearly shouting, she realised, but it was difficult to calm when all she wanted was to make Moirine see just how much trouble she'd put each and every one of them into. When she spoke again, her voice was still close to a shout, her hands balling into fists automatically at her sides. "You lied to me!"
No? Moirine bore all the shouting, all the anger, then imperiously turned to walk around the other side of the wagon. She'd have her horse even if she couldn't ride it. Who knew how far Allen had gotten while she'd been asleep? Mari was nothing compared to him. She didn't care that she'd lied about... whatever Mari was talking about. Had Allen corrected her about the pardon? It was easy enough to predate. Avith and Michaela would be happy to act as witnesses if it meant currying her favor. She was like them now. They'd want to help.
It didn't matter, though. Mari could believe what she liked. Grabbing the reins, she hummed at the horse as she stared into its large, glassy eye, trying to soothe it. How did she disentangle it from the wagon? Moirine took a deep breath. She could do this.
Like a kettle boiling over, Mari shook with rage for a few seconds before letting out yell of anger and running after her to grab her arm. "Did you ever have any intention of pardoning me? Of ever going back to Tyrol?"
She should have just thrown her in the barrel and rolled her until she got the answers she wanted. "Get back from the horses and answer me!"
"Don't," she shouted, "Touch me." Moirine ripped her arm out of Mari's hold, ignoring the scratches that came with the violent gesture. She didn't owe this girl anything. She was a murderess, a heathen, a common criminal. Moirine backed away from the horse, though. Horses were easily scared, she'd heard.
"You let him leave. You don't deserve an answer!"
"I don't deserve an answer?" Mari stared at her, incredulous. "I put my head on the line for you! I have cooked for you and fed you! I have looked after you, driven you! Protected you from dangers!" At least she was backing away from the horses. Mari followed suit. "Done everything you have asked of me! And suddenly your brother comes along to inform me that you're tied up and unconscious in the back of the wagon, by the way you were never going to pardon me anything, oh and also he's calling the cancellari to take him back so I should drive off into the bloody sunset with you!"
Her eyes bright with rage, she took a deep, shaking breath. What if Cita had come with the Cancellari? If he honestly thought nothing of purging the Grounds, a place in the city with witnesses and guards, how easily could he wipe them all out? What if he somehow got out of Allen which direction they'd taken? "Does my life really mean so little to you?"
"No," she kept murmuring. She'd make it all work. Mari would get her pardon, she and Allen would be safe together. She didn't mean to hurt anyone. "He called them?" she asked helplessly. Moirine turned away, her face contorted in pain. They'd kill him. What else could they do? Crying, she honestly cared nothing for Mari's life. She'd meant to save it, meant to protect her, but now... If she couldn't look after Allen, what did anyone else matter?
"It was all taken care of," she murmured. "You ruined it." It kept repeating in her head. Finally, Moirine reached out to slap Mari as hard as she could. She'd let everything fall to pieces, then blamed her?
"How did I--" the rest of her sentence was stolen from her mouth by the slap. She cried out, her voice a mix of pain and rage, going to grab the front of Moirine's dress. Why couldn't she see what she'd done? "I did nothing! I have only done what I have been asked to do!"
Moirine wasn't The Occia anymore, a small voice inside her head told her. Would anyone care if she just left her out here? But no, as pleasing a thought as it was, as tempting as it was, she couldn't simply leave a young girl out here alone. They'd work something out, then go back to Tyrol. It would be alright. Just as soon as Moirine admitted she was wrong.
"You let him go!" she cried, for once unafraid to scream. He was so sick, yet this woman didn't see fit to care for him? What kind of person ignored someone so obviously in need? Even as Mari's hands were tangled in her dress, Moirine swung her fists weakly at her, then she broke down. Strangling herself while Mari half held her up. she gritted her teeth.
"You have to take me back to him," she murmured, "He doesn't know what he's doing. Please. For Allen."
"He didn't want to leave Tyrol." Mari stared at the girl in disbelief, ignoring the weak punches. Had he ever wanted to leave? No. Why else would Moirine have drugged him to get him out of Tyrol? Why else would he go back? "You can't just- spend your life forcing people to do things." She wasn't certain what she was trying to say anymore, whether she was arguing for Allen or herself.
"We're going back," but. There seemed to always be a catch in their relationship. 'I'll petition the king for your pardon, but, I will no longer be The Occia so really all I'd be doing would be making the king aware that you killed a noble'. 'I'll take you back but your brother may have committed suicide by Cancellari already'. She said the words again, her voice terse. "We're going back."
She was so furious that she couldn't find the words to argue. When did she force? When did she ever get what she wanted? Even now, she was doing her best to please others. Perhaps Allen didn't know he wanted to leave Tyrol, but who would ever think he was acting in his best interests? He'd done terrible things because he believed God was instructing him. And now Mari thought it was her place to instruct her on what her brother wanted?
There was nothing else to say. Moirine climbed up to sit in front of the wagon, one seat over from the driver's position.
"Get down from there!" Mari folded her arms, eyes dark and staring at the girl. "We need to get something straight first."
"We'll talk on the way," she said. Moirine made no attempt to move from her seat or even to look at Mari. As far as she was concerned, the girl was still indebted to her, pardon or not. And, the longer they waited, the further away Allen got.
Mari stewed for a few seconds, but finally jumped up. If she waited for too long, Moirine would probably only attempt to drive the wagon herself - something that could end poorly for her if the other girl turned out to be any good at it.
She took a deep breath, then pointed a shaking finger at the former Occia. "Never put my head on the line like that again. Never lie to me about something like that. And we'll get on better." Not well. Not fantastically. But at least they wouldn't collapse into physical fights every time they were left alone together.
Probably.
She did her best to stare forward, to stay collected. They would get further faster if they weren't busy arguing along the way. There was also the chance that Mari would leave her by the wayside or abandon the wagon. She couldn't take that chance, yet it was so hard not to react. Her hands curled into fists, choking the thick fabric of her skirt, as she fought back the urge to start shouting. Her brother had gone to die and Mari thought she was concerned with how they got on? Moirine had no intentions of speaking to the girl again once they were back in Balfour.
"I promise," she responded flatly, eyes on the ears on the horses and the road they framed.
Mari stared at her long and hard, then pulled herself into the driver's seat. The fire they'd left would burn down soon without any fuel and by then they'd be long gone. Hopefully. "We'll need to stop so the horses can rest in a couple of hours," she muttered, almost as an aside as she started them moving. "They can't travel all through the night, as much as you probably want them to."
She could stare all she wanted; Moirine sat up straight, ignoring the slight shaking of her shoulders. "Of course," she said far too evenly, "You know what's best for the horses." Her replies were chilly, but true.
It was much easier to relax once they were on their way. They would catch up to Allen, of that Moirine had no doubt. He'd no idea how to ride a horse and could only walk so fast. Perhaps the cancellari wouldn't be able to find him. Or- she almost didn't dare think of it- perhaps he would reconsider. Shivering slightly, Moirine curled up in her seat and ducked her chin against her chest. It would be more comfortable to ride in the back, but finding Allen was too important a task to leave to Mari.
"How far from Tyrol are we?"
If a horse with a wagon attached could do twenty to thirty miles in a day, with them having traveled - five days? Seven? Mari realised she wasn't certain anymore. The days had all blurred into one long mess of either doing more than her share of work or covering up her ears and running into the woods to avoid creepy entertainment with her dinner. "A few days."
The reply of 'we'll get there when we get there' was coiled on her tongue, ready to unleash. She had to grit her teeth together to keep herself from saying it. What had Allen said before? That he would be going to his god's justice. He'd been sleeping with his god's wife, a terrible enough crime without the added taboo of him being her brother. So basically, he'd gone to kill himself.
"I'm sorry," she managed after a moment. She wouldn't wish losing a sibling on anyone. Shifting, wriggling in her seat, Mari pulled her cloak off to rest it over her knees, her tongue pressing against her crooked front tooth. "You can take a bit, if you want," her voice was grudging as she lifted up a corner of her cloak. Likely as not, she wouldn't. And then Mari would be warm and she would be cold, just to prove a point. Fine, whatever. She didn't care.
A few days. Allen had a day on them without any means of quick transport. He had to wait for the cancellari to catch up to him. There weren't enough of them to spare to send in every direction. With any luck, the cancellari would have to start out from the city itself this morning. She could make it back to the citadel long before Allen did. She could think of a way to stop all this.
Moirine was so lost in her thoughts that Mari's sympathy almost didn't register. She was sorry? For a long moment, she did nothing, then took a corner of the cloak and laid it over her knees. "Thank you," she forced out.
Oh, she'd taken it. And now she had to sit next to her, sharing her cloak for the next who knew how long. Glum and tired, Mari threw a little more of her cloak over the other girl before sitting up so that she could see the road better.
Soon, though, the sound of the horses' rhythmic movements lulled her into calm. Mentally, she prayed to Saint Jude again, this time for a safe journey back. "We'll get there," she promised. "We'll get there soon."