MOIRINE + MARI // how
Who: Moirine & Mari
When: Evening of the 10th.
Where: The Hour.
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 for language.
Mari did not feel well.
It wasn't just the physical effect of use of her power - though she was quickly learning that it was not only finite but came with its own toll - it was her mind, too. She'd been too attached to Rhys, that was the problem. She'd told him everything, invested in him, treated him like - she wasn't quite certain where her affections had fallen, but it had become clear she had held him too close. Everything came to an end; she'd told herself the same thing all through her teens as she'd drifted off to sleep in cold and unfriendly beds, far from home. Nobody could take care of you forever. Why was it then that the first time someone had stepped forward to take care of her without catches like hiring people to kidnap her, why had she allowed herself to fall into the trap of letting them? She should have known the first time she'd realised he trusted her, should have realised it would end badly long before it did. Now she had only herself to blame for being so deeply entrenched in grief.
It wasn't just grief for him, either. Whatever memories of home she'd allowed herself to access while talking to him in their language, while telling him their stories, their folklore, while sharing a tradition that belonged to both of them, they led only to deeper grief. She felt angry at herself, but most of all, she felt vulnerable, alone. How could anyone else understand? It felt such a heavy burden that she could barely comprehend it herself, let alone realise that other people might have suffered the same as she did now.
It was murder that had taken him, murder that had taken her siblings, attempted murder that had harmed Marijke, Lucia and Rowan. The step she'd taken was...a drastic one, but she found herself regretting it less the more she used it, got to grips with what she could do. Staying at Jai's house, alone with the cat and a bottle of wine, had helped to calm her; healing calmed her even further. She didn't notice any more being gawked at by neophytes she'd thought of as friends before she'd Changed. After a few hours of dealing with patients, she was too tired to agonise over Rhys, or feel upset at how angry everyone seemed to be. It was perfect.
Resting her hands on an empty bed as her last patient left, Mari allowed herself to breathe out, her arms shivering with the effort of holding her up. She'd need to eat, then head back out to the house. But first, she'd need to deal with Moirine and whatever she'd come to say. For once, she was too bone tired to grow tense with anticipation of a worst case scenario. Let her bring her worst. Unless it was 'I tipped off the cancellari on where to find you and Wellington's going to put your head in his trophy case', Mari found herself honestly too tired to protest.
No one looked at her. Moirine had kept her wig on as insurance, but she was certain that she could take it off and walk freely though the streets. Lord Myron had said that she wouldn't be recognized, but it was proving to be more sophisticated than that. She'd approached one of the other maids after putting on the necklace. The maid simply asked her to help her with the dusting. When she needed a new cloth, however, she hadn't known what to call Moirine. 'Cerys,' she'd supplied, and that somehow stuck. Moirine went to the kitchens next, then the storerooms. So long as she didn't do anything drastic, it seemed, she could blend in anywhere. If she didn't tell anyone her name, no one thought to ask.
Mari would make for a good test. Mari knew her better than most anyone these days. A depressing thought, considering who and what she was. By no means had she forgiven the other girl for being so stupid and so protective of her own stupidity, but... this was her only option. Moirine was becoming used to dealing with only having one option.
She entered the room, the chain tucked beneath her dress. Staring over at Mari's back, Moirine rapped on the door frame. "'Scuse me?" she called. "Got told to come help you clean up for the night."
Mari's eyes were shut, her body tempting to fold up then and there and leave her to sleep. Starting awake at the sound of the other person's knuckles on the door, she looked up, squinting through tired eyes, a frown on her face. "Ah..." Forming words took a moment. "There's not much to clean, honestly."
It took her a moment to look around. The person before her was unfamiliar to her. Two eyes, two ears, a nose, and no features Mari's brain recognised. An Hour maid, another neophyte? Unremarkable, either way; she forgot her face almost as soon she she looked around again. She took her hands off the bed, then folded her arms when it seemed her hands might betray her by their shaking. "A bit of blood on the floor." But she'd not gotten out any equipment that might need to be washed and set away, nor had she let any untidiness remain untidy between patients. Cleaning, that was another thing that calmed her. Distance from home had let her realise that being given work around the house and taught to cook from an early age had given her the skills of a good wife, even if the world had left her with a personality nobody would marry. Still, it was comforting to dust and clean, performing the same acts she could remember performing in some of her earliest memories. Time with Justin had also taught her well in regards to cleaning; everything she organised had an air of near military precision about it.
"There should be a cloth around here," she mumbled. Oh, the sheets were bloodied too. She pulled it off the bed and frowned at it, as though wondering how it could possibly have gotten there. "We'll have to wash this, I suppose."
For a moment, she thought that Mari was trying to trick her into believing the necklace worked, but then how irrational that was struck her. Mari didn't know about the necklace. And, well, why would she even want to make her think that? Relieved, Moirine grinned and went for the washcloth set beside a basin. "Cloth's here, ma'am," she said without any hesitation.
She'd done what she'd come to do. She was convinced that the necklace worked. Why was she still playing the maid? It had only been a month, but already it was becoming habit to scrub what needed to be scrubbed, to treat everyone like a better on the surface and resent them underneath. Moirine dipped the cloth in the basin and got down on her knees to wipe away the bloodstain.
"Just toss the sheets on the floor, ma'am. I'll take them to laundry once I've finished."
Mari looked haggard. A small part of her said, 'Good.' She deserved whatever unhappiness she'd brought on herself. Her elbow ached as she tried to get the stubborn stain out. "You're the Other that can heal people, aren't you?" she asked, barely keeping the disdain out of her voice. "Cita, if only you could heal all that comes of being pregnant without healing the baby away."
Would being so specific make Mari think of her?
Mari looked up at the ceiling, her hands on the bed. The disdain did not go unnoticed, but she was too tired to argue it. Instead, she began to fold the sheet carefully, leaving sharp corners, making a neat rectangle as she processed what the other person was saying. She'd not noticed the pregnancy. She must be early along.
"There are some things," she began slowly, "I imagine I could try to do something for. Aching limbs, perhaps. Back pain." Could she? Actually Mari wasn't at all certain of that. But cuts and grazes, they disappeared without a mark, without pain when she dealt with them. What were her limits?
The sheet folded until it could be folded no more, she placed it back on the bed and leaned on it once more. Wretched, she felt wretched, unwell. "I can do that myself, if you're having difficulties." More than likely she'd get down to her hands and knees, then fall asleep in the bloodstain.
"No, ma'am," she said, using her thumb to dig into the grout of the stone floor. "I got sent up here to do a job and I plan on doing it." She'd accepted the potion from Ermesinda, but that had been for Allen. Even if Mari could keep her from being ill all the time, from crying at the pain in her back, Moirine would never ask. Myron was a good Other, but he was a needle in a haystack.
"They say the Magus did this. That a couple weeks ago, you weren't nothing." Somehow, talking like Ira made saying things she knew would hurt Mari easier. Still, she bunched her shoulders and started scrubbing harder. She needed to know how far she could push the necklace. Mari would forget everything she'd said once she was out of the room... wouldn't she?
Moirine looked up at her. "What's the point of saving people if nobody wants you the fuck around?"
Mari shut her eyes briefly. That stung, but tiredness lent her an armour that worked well against slights. She'd begun to adapt, to learn to not wince when people flinched away, to not take it too personally when a wound disappeared and they screamed. And exhaustion brought apathy. Apathy was her great protector, always had been. A person could only hurt you if you cared about what they said; it was as simple as that. And even though she was so tired she might fall down, even though she was shaking so hard a wind might knock her over, when she turned and looked at the maid on the floor, she felt truly invincible.
And she did look at her, letting the silence bloom for a few moments as she examined her carefully. "It seems to me that if you dislike Others so much," she began slowly, her voice even, devoid of emotion, "calling me 'ma'am' is unnecessary." Was this the sort of prejudice she'd be living with from now on? So be it. She'd covered her ears and eventually adopted an English accent when children had followed her down the streets of Shropshire jeering. Passing as normal...she could do that again. And if it all got too much, Abel was always waiting for her, like comfortable clothes.
Still, she considered the other girl's question for a few moments, turning it over in her mind. "I want to save people," was the final, quiet answer. "I don't want anyone to get hurt, be murdered, go before their time. If this is the road I have to take, if nobody likes me in the end..." Letting the sentence trail off, she shrugged, closing her eyes again. She could always find somewhere new, some place else, away from here. Tyrol wasn't home. She had a hundred unfinished letters to her mother. Her mother would still want her, wouldn't she? No matter what she became?
Of course she would. Mari had been wanted before, loved before. That meant that somewhere, somebody could do it again.
"Never said I hated Others. I don't hate 'em, ma'am." Moirine leaned back to gauge the stain. There was blood all over her apron, but it did seem to be coming off the stones. "Just you show up out of nowhere, then they start saying the Magus made an Other. You weren't nothing," she paused. Ira would have smiled. As much as she was trying to sound like him, she couldn't stand to be him... "Before, were you?"
The explanation didn't touch her. Mari still didn't understand what she was doing. Scrubbing, she kept her eyes on the ground and let out a sigh. "They'll still die, anyhow. You can't get to all of them. You just sold yourself out to feel better about being useless."
Mari hadn't hit her yet. Was it the necklace or Mari's disposition? Moirine couldn't be sure.
Constantly being referred to as 'ma'am' was getting under her skin a little. One eye half-closed from tiredness, she examined the other girl again. Was she really this obnoxious, or was she just attempting to bait her for fun? "I've been here near a year," she said instead, voice still apathetic. "That's not really 'out of nowhere'."
Moving the folded sheets to the end of the bed, Mari gave a little to her exhausted body's demands, sitting down and leaning back until her shoulders touched the wall behind. The walk back would wake her up, she promised herself. Sitting down would help her. "I can get to more this way, then I could before." With the medical department having been hit hard in both the werewolf attack and the arrests over the vivisections, the number of doctors left had fallen a great deal. If something big happened...they'd be in trouble. Perhaps this way they'd be in less trouble. Besides, it was true what she'd said to Lucia; loss seemed to stalk her, following just in her shadow, creeping out when least expected. There were so many things that could have been prevented if she'd been born with this ability. "If I can only save one person, that's still one person living where they might not have, isn't it?" Genuinely curious, she added, "what's your problem with that?"
Folding her left arm over her chest so it touched her right elbow, she placed the tip of her right thumb in her mouth and bit down, staring at the maid. Questions mattered when they came from loved ones, people she wanted desperately to trust her. When they came from people like a maid she didn't know, it wasn't as painful. It still hurt that only the Magus and Silence seemed to see the benefits of a power which meant healing all wounds. So what if, like Cristofolo had said, she was a tool? It meant she was necessary, useful, good. She'd been used by people most of her life in Tyrol, after all. It would be nice to have some agency, some say in it.
"Haven't you ever lost someone and thought, 'if only I could have saved them, if only I could have prevented that'? I don't have to deal in 'if only's any more."
It was laughable. Had she ever lost someone? What would it have been like to keep him alive? Losing Allen hurt her every day of her life. But it wasn't something a healing power could have prevented. She still would have been drugged in the back of a wagon as he was riddled to bits by a false god.
Moirine scowled, trying to understand. "Ain't your place. We all die, and it ain't your place to sell your soul to decide who does and who doesn't." She kept scrubbing, using her anger to work out the blood. "Anyway, you don't know who you're saving..."
The only other person who'd told her it wasn't her place had been Cristofolo. Offering the other girl a tight smile, Mari shrugged. Who cared if it wasn't her place? "I don't bring the dead back to life. I do the same as most doctors, only...faster. With less equipment. You might as well tell any physician not to learn their craft because it's not their place." She'd be sticking to her studies. Where the power failed, she'd have her own knowledge to fall back on.
"I know who I'd save if I'd had the chance," she said, biting down on her thumb again. "That's enough for me."
"It ain't. What you do is unnatural. The doctors is using a craft. What are you doing? Wishing it all away." Moirine didn't even believe what she was saying anymore. Would she want Mari to save her if it came down to it? No. But did she really care these days what Cita did and didn't want? No.
She slopped the rag back into the pail, inspecting the clean stone. She wobbled to her feet and shook out her wet and bloody apron a bit. "Just save them, then. Don't sell your fool self to criminals."
Was Mari seriously going to keep serving Silence? Moirine had no choice but to. But Mari could take a knife to the gut and give one back to the leader of the Whispers. Was she honestly deluding herself into thinking she was doing good by healing murderers and thieves? This ability wasn't about keeping others safe. It was about keeping Mari safe.
"'Scuse me," she murmured, heading to the door. "I need to wash a bit, or I'll be scrubbing the same old blood into the floor."
"Where did criminals come from? I'm only working for the Hour." Still, that was a red flag. Mari watched her carefully, her suspicions suddenly aroused. "Do what you want, though."
It was true that Mari stood a better chance now of killing Silence than she had before. But the fact remained that she couldn't simply barge in hoping to be able to heal whatever he threw at her. It would have to be subtler. He'd have to trust her enough to turn his back on her. She'd have to make sure nobody came after her for revenge afterwards.People trusted doctors; they put their lives in their hands every day. Becoming his trusted surgeon seemed the best plan right now. It gave the most opportunity.
Moirine glanced back at Mari before she left the room. Was it an act? Or did she really think she was justified? The Whispers killed and blackmailed people when it suited them. What good was all her self-righteousness if she was using her power on people who'd just go on to hurt others?
She slumped beside the door once outside the room. Confident no one would take notice, Moirine held her knees to her chest and scowled. As angry as she was with Mari, she didn't want to keep fighting. Who else did she have? If Mari hated her, well, at least she still spoke to her. Tried to speak to her, at least... No one from the Citadel seemed to care she was gone.
Taking the necklace off, she stuffed it into her apron pocket. Moirine opened the door, making no attempt to hide the blood on her or her clothes. Would Mari notice now? She was prepared to take any repercussions for her words... she just had to know. Closing the door behind her, she murmured, "I'm here."
Mari pressed her shoulders back to the wall as the maid left, closing her eyes and allowing herself to drift. The room was a little drafty, but the bed was comfortable enough. Surely Moirine wouldn't mind waking her up when she finally got here...for a moment she thought she might finally get some sleep, but then came the sensation of falling, her leg twitched and she jolted awake again, just as the door opened.
"Oh, hey." It must have been important for Moirine to risk coming to the Hour. Mari tried to muster up some enthusiasm or interest, but found herself failing. Her head hurt and Moirine was always angry at her for some reason or another. Rubbing her temple, she looked up-
-The first thing she spotted was the blood. Her jaw dropping, she jumped off the bed and ran to the other girl, putting her hands on her shoulders. "You're covered in blood! Are you alright? You're bleeding!" Where? Was it the baby? "Is the wee one alright?"
"He's fine, so far as I know." 'The wee one.' That was what she ought be calling Jude over the ledgers. She curved one arm under the rapidly forming bump of her belly. A baby had always seemed such a small thing, but it was growing fast. She'd already begun swapping out dresses with the weightier maids so that she could breathe as she worked...
Moirine waited by the door. She said nothing, simply stared at her boots. She'd said all that she could to infuriate Mari, and to no avail.
If the baby was fine, then was Moirine? But she seemed alright too. Mari took a step back, a frown slowly forming over her face as she examined the other girl. No visible injuries, but it looked like she'd been kneeling in blood stains. Her dress too, that was familiar. The suspicions that she'd had about the maid came back in force, hitting her full in the face. How could a maid working in the Hour be so disdainful of Others? How would someone she'd never spoken to known enough to raise the idea of criminals in front of her?
Mari took another step back, her hands balling into fists. Her lips were pursed so tight they turned white. For a second she struggled with the possibilities, then asked in a carefully calm voice, "how?"
One word. Moirine glanced up from under her lashes, either looking guilty or remorseful, and pursed her lips. "What do you mean, 'how'?" she asked, just to be certain. So she could presumably be recognized. She'd have to be careful not to injure herself of stain her clothes at Lord Myron's. Most the staff wasn't very bright, but they had a chance at figuring her out...
"I was only trying to get a rise out of you," Moirine murmured. She'd half-meant it all. She was still angry, still disgusted at Mari's actions, but... even she wasn't so harsh as to say all that and mean it.
Mari turned her back on Moirine and began to stalk around the room, trying to work out her anger without punching out a pregnant woman. She could ignore shit from some pregnant maid she didn't know, but, infuriatingly, she cared what Moirine thought about her. Kicking the leg of the bed, she stomped over to the far corner. A rise out of her? She wanted to get a rise out of her? "Why?" She snapped back. "And how did you change?"
The kick made her suck in a quick breath. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "It's a spell. Lord Myron taught me so that I wouldn't be noticed," she murmured. Somehow, the usual anger wasn't coming. She was afraid. If Mari grabbed her arm and started screaming for them to dispose of the blood-spattered maid, would the necklace help her? She rubbed her fingers together just over the apron pocket. "I thought if I said... all those things, you might recognize me."
Moirine opened her eyes only to look away. "I needed to test it."
"People who aren't Others can't perform magic," was Mari's answer. She'd tried to learn herself, tried to get Justin to teach her, but she'd always failed in that regard. Muggle. It wasn't enough that Moirine had sneaked in and started insulting her, but lying too?
Why would Myron teach her how not to be noticed? "So he knows who you are." And he didn't want her to be found, either. That was interesting; she filed it away so she could explore it when she wasn't incredibly angry. Mari turned back around, glaring at the other girl.
"Now you've tested it. I hope you got what you wanted."
"I can." It was magic, it just wasn't inherently hers. Moirine slowly straightened. This reminded her too much of the times that Mari had sneaked into the citadel and insulted her, provoked her, tried to poison one of her cancellari (without her permission). Was it so different now, or did Mari simply not like being on the receiving end?
"I've tested it... but... some of what I said was true. You don't care about people... you're just scared..." It was harder to say when she knew that she'd be held accountable. Moirine shrugged her shoulders up in anticipation.
"Can't I be scared and care?" She'd never deny she was terrified of dying, especially if what Ermesinda had said was true. But at the same time- she did want to help people. "I want to save lives," she folded her arms across her chest, her mouth still an angry line. "That's why I changed."
Waving an arm around the tiny room, she scowled at Moirine. "Why d'you think I've been spending all my time in here, helping people who treat me like you were doing just then? Who scream when their wounds close, who look at me like I'm a monster? For my health? For myself?"
"People who come to be treated at the Hour speak to you the way I did?" she asked incredulously. There was the anger. Even if she didn't want to fight... this was ridiculous. "I was the Occia," she hissed beneath her breath. "And I was saying the worst things I could think of. I dare you to feel sorrier for yourself for what you did."
She held her belly. She resented Allen for leaving her, but she had made her own choices and not looked back. If Rath chose to disclose what he knew, she'd take the criticism. She'd taken it for years, before she'd even kissed Allen.
"I do think it's for you. You said you knew who you'd save. What do the others matter to you? You'll never make up for the man you killed." Moirine balled her hand around the necklace.
She'd been put through hell on Aldo Sabreme's account. First from Wellington, then Silence and Moirine. Mari's first response was to throw something at her, but she didn't. For a few seconds she did nothing but stand, shaking with anger, then she crossed to the bed and sat down heavily. Lifting her long legs onto the thin mattress, she lay down, the crook of her elbow providing a pillow. She was too tired to fight.
"I think that, you hate me, and that you've always hated me. I also think that you'd find fault with everything I did, even if I went into the bowels of Hell and retrieved the Sabreme. And I also think that you should just leave me be, if this is how it's going to be. Allen told me to take care of you-- Rhys told me to stay close to you." She shrugged and rolled over, so that her working ear was pressed into her arm. "I'm getting rid of Silence, one way or another. So I guess that'll fulfil that promise. Just sit tight and pretend I don't exist until then."
Dare accepted, Moirine.
"Dare fulfilled," she muttered as Mari climbed onto the bed like a child. "You've no idea what I think. But be as dramatic as you please. If my life ever becomes too upsetting, I'll ask the Magus for whatever power I'd like, the same as you."
Moirine grabbed a textbook off the nearest bookcase and flung it at the bed, careful to keep her aim low enough that it didn't hit the girl in the bed. She might have aimed it square at Mari's face and never looked back, but she wasn't that type of person. Then, she slipped the necklace on and marched out of the Hour.
Mari didn't hear her, only felt the impact of the book against her bed. Twisting, she picked it up and threw it at Moirine's retreating back, collapsing back into the bed and burying her face in her arms as it bounced uselessly off the door frame.
Fine. Fine. She could live without friends. Fine!
When: Evening of the 10th.
Where: The Hour.
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 for language.
Mari did not feel well.
It wasn't just the physical effect of use of her power - though she was quickly learning that it was not only finite but came with its own toll - it was her mind, too. She'd been too attached to Rhys, that was the problem. She'd told him everything, invested in him, treated him like - she wasn't quite certain where her affections had fallen, but it had become clear she had held him too close. Everything came to an end; she'd told herself the same thing all through her teens as she'd drifted off to sleep in cold and unfriendly beds, far from home. Nobody could take care of you forever. Why was it then that the first time someone had stepped forward to take care of her without catches like hiring people to kidnap her, why had she allowed herself to fall into the trap of letting them? She should have known the first time she'd realised he trusted her, should have realised it would end badly long before it did. Now she had only herself to blame for being so deeply entrenched in grief.
It wasn't just grief for him, either. Whatever memories of home she'd allowed herself to access while talking to him in their language, while telling him their stories, their folklore, while sharing a tradition that belonged to both of them, they led only to deeper grief. She felt angry at herself, but most of all, she felt vulnerable, alone. How could anyone else understand? It felt such a heavy burden that she could barely comprehend it herself, let alone realise that other people might have suffered the same as she did now.
It was murder that had taken him, murder that had taken her siblings, attempted murder that had harmed Marijke, Lucia and Rowan. The step she'd taken was...a drastic one, but she found herself regretting it less the more she used it, got to grips with what she could do. Staying at Jai's house, alone with the cat and a bottle of wine, had helped to calm her; healing calmed her even further. She didn't notice any more being gawked at by neophytes she'd thought of as friends before she'd Changed. After a few hours of dealing with patients, she was too tired to agonise over Rhys, or feel upset at how angry everyone seemed to be. It was perfect.
Resting her hands on an empty bed as her last patient left, Mari allowed herself to breathe out, her arms shivering with the effort of holding her up. She'd need to eat, then head back out to the house. But first, she'd need to deal with Moirine and whatever she'd come to say. For once, she was too bone tired to grow tense with anticipation of a worst case scenario. Let her bring her worst. Unless it was 'I tipped off the cancellari on where to find you and Wellington's going to put your head in his trophy case', Mari found herself honestly too tired to protest.
No one looked at her. Moirine had kept her wig on as insurance, but she was certain that she could take it off and walk freely though the streets. Lord Myron had said that she wouldn't be recognized, but it was proving to be more sophisticated than that. She'd approached one of the other maids after putting on the necklace. The maid simply asked her to help her with the dusting. When she needed a new cloth, however, she hadn't known what to call Moirine. 'Cerys,' she'd supplied, and that somehow stuck. Moirine went to the kitchens next, then the storerooms. So long as she didn't do anything drastic, it seemed, she could blend in anywhere. If she didn't tell anyone her name, no one thought to ask.
Mari would make for a good test. Mari knew her better than most anyone these days. A depressing thought, considering who and what she was. By no means had she forgiven the other girl for being so stupid and so protective of her own stupidity, but... this was her only option. Moirine was becoming used to dealing with only having one option.
She entered the room, the chain tucked beneath her dress. Staring over at Mari's back, Moirine rapped on the door frame. "'Scuse me?" she called. "Got told to come help you clean up for the night."
Mari's eyes were shut, her body tempting to fold up then and there and leave her to sleep. Starting awake at the sound of the other person's knuckles on the door, she looked up, squinting through tired eyes, a frown on her face. "Ah..." Forming words took a moment. "There's not much to clean, honestly."
It took her a moment to look around. The person before her was unfamiliar to her. Two eyes, two ears, a nose, and no features Mari's brain recognised. An Hour maid, another neophyte? Unremarkable, either way; she forgot her face almost as soon she she looked around again. She took her hands off the bed, then folded her arms when it seemed her hands might betray her by their shaking. "A bit of blood on the floor." But she'd not gotten out any equipment that might need to be washed and set away, nor had she let any untidiness remain untidy between patients. Cleaning, that was another thing that calmed her. Distance from home had let her realise that being given work around the house and taught to cook from an early age had given her the skills of a good wife, even if the world had left her with a personality nobody would marry. Still, it was comforting to dust and clean, performing the same acts she could remember performing in some of her earliest memories. Time with Justin had also taught her well in regards to cleaning; everything she organised had an air of near military precision about it.
"There should be a cloth around here," she mumbled. Oh, the sheets were bloodied too. She pulled it off the bed and frowned at it, as though wondering how it could possibly have gotten there. "We'll have to wash this, I suppose."
For a moment, she thought that Mari was trying to trick her into believing the necklace worked, but then how irrational that was struck her. Mari didn't know about the necklace. And, well, why would she even want to make her think that? Relieved, Moirine grinned and went for the washcloth set beside a basin. "Cloth's here, ma'am," she said without any hesitation.
She'd done what she'd come to do. She was convinced that the necklace worked. Why was she still playing the maid? It had only been a month, but already it was becoming habit to scrub what needed to be scrubbed, to treat everyone like a better on the surface and resent them underneath. Moirine dipped the cloth in the basin and got down on her knees to wipe away the bloodstain.
"Just toss the sheets on the floor, ma'am. I'll take them to laundry once I've finished."
Mari looked haggard. A small part of her said, 'Good.' She deserved whatever unhappiness she'd brought on herself. Her elbow ached as she tried to get the stubborn stain out. "You're the Other that can heal people, aren't you?" she asked, barely keeping the disdain out of her voice. "Cita, if only you could heal all that comes of being pregnant without healing the baby away."
Would being so specific make Mari think of her?
Mari looked up at the ceiling, her hands on the bed. The disdain did not go unnoticed, but she was too tired to argue it. Instead, she began to fold the sheet carefully, leaving sharp corners, making a neat rectangle as she processed what the other person was saying. She'd not noticed the pregnancy. She must be early along.
"There are some things," she began slowly, "I imagine I could try to do something for. Aching limbs, perhaps. Back pain." Could she? Actually Mari wasn't at all certain of that. But cuts and grazes, they disappeared without a mark, without pain when she dealt with them. What were her limits?
The sheet folded until it could be folded no more, she placed it back on the bed and leaned on it once more. Wretched, she felt wretched, unwell. "I can do that myself, if you're having difficulties." More than likely she'd get down to her hands and knees, then fall asleep in the bloodstain.
"No, ma'am," she said, using her thumb to dig into the grout of the stone floor. "I got sent up here to do a job and I plan on doing it." She'd accepted the potion from Ermesinda, but that had been for Allen. Even if Mari could keep her from being ill all the time, from crying at the pain in her back, Moirine would never ask. Myron was a good Other, but he was a needle in a haystack.
"They say the Magus did this. That a couple weeks ago, you weren't nothing." Somehow, talking like Ira made saying things she knew would hurt Mari easier. Still, she bunched her shoulders and started scrubbing harder. She needed to know how far she could push the necklace. Mari would forget everything she'd said once she was out of the room... wouldn't she?
Moirine looked up at her. "What's the point of saving people if nobody wants you the fuck around?"
Mari shut her eyes briefly. That stung, but tiredness lent her an armour that worked well against slights. She'd begun to adapt, to learn to not wince when people flinched away, to not take it too personally when a wound disappeared and they screamed. And exhaustion brought apathy. Apathy was her great protector, always had been. A person could only hurt you if you cared about what they said; it was as simple as that. And even though she was so tired she might fall down, even though she was shaking so hard a wind might knock her over, when she turned and looked at the maid on the floor, she felt truly invincible.
And she did look at her, letting the silence bloom for a few moments as she examined her carefully. "It seems to me that if you dislike Others so much," she began slowly, her voice even, devoid of emotion, "calling me 'ma'am' is unnecessary." Was this the sort of prejudice she'd be living with from now on? So be it. She'd covered her ears and eventually adopted an English accent when children had followed her down the streets of Shropshire jeering. Passing as normal...she could do that again. And if it all got too much, Abel was always waiting for her, like comfortable clothes.
Still, she considered the other girl's question for a few moments, turning it over in her mind. "I want to save people," was the final, quiet answer. "I don't want anyone to get hurt, be murdered, go before their time. If this is the road I have to take, if nobody likes me in the end..." Letting the sentence trail off, she shrugged, closing her eyes again. She could always find somewhere new, some place else, away from here. Tyrol wasn't home. She had a hundred unfinished letters to her mother. Her mother would still want her, wouldn't she? No matter what she became?
Of course she would. Mari had been wanted before, loved before. That meant that somewhere, somebody could do it again.
"Never said I hated Others. I don't hate 'em, ma'am." Moirine leaned back to gauge the stain. There was blood all over her apron, but it did seem to be coming off the stones. "Just you show up out of nowhere, then they start saying the Magus made an Other. You weren't nothing," she paused. Ira would have smiled. As much as she was trying to sound like him, she couldn't stand to be him... "Before, were you?"
The explanation didn't touch her. Mari still didn't understand what she was doing. Scrubbing, she kept her eyes on the ground and let out a sigh. "They'll still die, anyhow. You can't get to all of them. You just sold yourself out to feel better about being useless."
Mari hadn't hit her yet. Was it the necklace or Mari's disposition? Moirine couldn't be sure.
Constantly being referred to as 'ma'am' was getting under her skin a little. One eye half-closed from tiredness, she examined the other girl again. Was she really this obnoxious, or was she just attempting to bait her for fun? "I've been here near a year," she said instead, voice still apathetic. "That's not really 'out of nowhere'."
Moving the folded sheets to the end of the bed, Mari gave a little to her exhausted body's demands, sitting down and leaning back until her shoulders touched the wall behind. The walk back would wake her up, she promised herself. Sitting down would help her. "I can get to more this way, then I could before." With the medical department having been hit hard in both the werewolf attack and the arrests over the vivisections, the number of doctors left had fallen a great deal. If something big happened...they'd be in trouble. Perhaps this way they'd be in less trouble. Besides, it was true what she'd said to Lucia; loss seemed to stalk her, following just in her shadow, creeping out when least expected. There were so many things that could have been prevented if she'd been born with this ability. "If I can only save one person, that's still one person living where they might not have, isn't it?" Genuinely curious, she added, "what's your problem with that?"
Folding her left arm over her chest so it touched her right elbow, she placed the tip of her right thumb in her mouth and bit down, staring at the maid. Questions mattered when they came from loved ones, people she wanted desperately to trust her. When they came from people like a maid she didn't know, it wasn't as painful. It still hurt that only the Magus and Silence seemed to see the benefits of a power which meant healing all wounds. So what if, like Cristofolo had said, she was a tool? It meant she was necessary, useful, good. She'd been used by people most of her life in Tyrol, after all. It would be nice to have some agency, some say in it.
"Haven't you ever lost someone and thought, 'if only I could have saved them, if only I could have prevented that'? I don't have to deal in 'if only's any more."
It was laughable. Had she ever lost someone? What would it have been like to keep him alive? Losing Allen hurt her every day of her life. But it wasn't something a healing power could have prevented. She still would have been drugged in the back of a wagon as he was riddled to bits by a false god.
Moirine scowled, trying to understand. "Ain't your place. We all die, and it ain't your place to sell your soul to decide who does and who doesn't." She kept scrubbing, using her anger to work out the blood. "Anyway, you don't know who you're saving..."
The only other person who'd told her it wasn't her place had been Cristofolo. Offering the other girl a tight smile, Mari shrugged. Who cared if it wasn't her place? "I don't bring the dead back to life. I do the same as most doctors, only...faster. With less equipment. You might as well tell any physician not to learn their craft because it's not their place." She'd be sticking to her studies. Where the power failed, she'd have her own knowledge to fall back on.
"I know who I'd save if I'd had the chance," she said, biting down on her thumb again. "That's enough for me."
"It ain't. What you do is unnatural. The doctors is using a craft. What are you doing? Wishing it all away." Moirine didn't even believe what she was saying anymore. Would she want Mari to save her if it came down to it? No. But did she really care these days what Cita did and didn't want? No.
She slopped the rag back into the pail, inspecting the clean stone. She wobbled to her feet and shook out her wet and bloody apron a bit. "Just save them, then. Don't sell your fool self to criminals."
Was Mari seriously going to keep serving Silence? Moirine had no choice but to. But Mari could take a knife to the gut and give one back to the leader of the Whispers. Was she honestly deluding herself into thinking she was doing good by healing murderers and thieves? This ability wasn't about keeping others safe. It was about keeping Mari safe.
"'Scuse me," she murmured, heading to the door. "I need to wash a bit, or I'll be scrubbing the same old blood into the floor."
"Where did criminals come from? I'm only working for the Hour." Still, that was a red flag. Mari watched her carefully, her suspicions suddenly aroused. "Do what you want, though."
It was true that Mari stood a better chance now of killing Silence than she had before. But the fact remained that she couldn't simply barge in hoping to be able to heal whatever he threw at her. It would have to be subtler. He'd have to trust her enough to turn his back on her. She'd have to make sure nobody came after her for revenge afterwards.People trusted doctors; they put their lives in their hands every day. Becoming his trusted surgeon seemed the best plan right now. It gave the most opportunity.
Moirine glanced back at Mari before she left the room. Was it an act? Or did she really think she was justified? The Whispers killed and blackmailed people when it suited them. What good was all her self-righteousness if she was using her power on people who'd just go on to hurt others?
She slumped beside the door once outside the room. Confident no one would take notice, Moirine held her knees to her chest and scowled. As angry as she was with Mari, she didn't want to keep fighting. Who else did she have? If Mari hated her, well, at least she still spoke to her. Tried to speak to her, at least... No one from the Citadel seemed to care she was gone.
Taking the necklace off, she stuffed it into her apron pocket. Moirine opened the door, making no attempt to hide the blood on her or her clothes. Would Mari notice now? She was prepared to take any repercussions for her words... she just had to know. Closing the door behind her, she murmured, "I'm here."
Mari pressed her shoulders back to the wall as the maid left, closing her eyes and allowing herself to drift. The room was a little drafty, but the bed was comfortable enough. Surely Moirine wouldn't mind waking her up when she finally got here...for a moment she thought she might finally get some sleep, but then came the sensation of falling, her leg twitched and she jolted awake again, just as the door opened.
"Oh, hey." It must have been important for Moirine to risk coming to the Hour. Mari tried to muster up some enthusiasm or interest, but found herself failing. Her head hurt and Moirine was always angry at her for some reason or another. Rubbing her temple, she looked up-
-The first thing she spotted was the blood. Her jaw dropping, she jumped off the bed and ran to the other girl, putting her hands on her shoulders. "You're covered in blood! Are you alright? You're bleeding!" Where? Was it the baby? "Is the wee one alright?"
"He's fine, so far as I know." 'The wee one.' That was what she ought be calling Jude over the ledgers. She curved one arm under the rapidly forming bump of her belly. A baby had always seemed such a small thing, but it was growing fast. She'd already begun swapping out dresses with the weightier maids so that she could breathe as she worked...
Moirine waited by the door. She said nothing, simply stared at her boots. She'd said all that she could to infuriate Mari, and to no avail.
If the baby was fine, then was Moirine? But she seemed alright too. Mari took a step back, a frown slowly forming over her face as she examined the other girl. No visible injuries, but it looked like she'd been kneeling in blood stains. Her dress too, that was familiar. The suspicions that she'd had about the maid came back in force, hitting her full in the face. How could a maid working in the Hour be so disdainful of Others? How would someone she'd never spoken to known enough to raise the idea of criminals in front of her?
Mari took another step back, her hands balling into fists. Her lips were pursed so tight they turned white. For a second she struggled with the possibilities, then asked in a carefully calm voice, "how?"
One word. Moirine glanced up from under her lashes, either looking guilty or remorseful, and pursed her lips. "What do you mean, 'how'?" she asked, just to be certain. So she could presumably be recognized. She'd have to be careful not to injure herself of stain her clothes at Lord Myron's. Most the staff wasn't very bright, but they had a chance at figuring her out...
"I was only trying to get a rise out of you," Moirine murmured. She'd half-meant it all. She was still angry, still disgusted at Mari's actions, but... even she wasn't so harsh as to say all that and mean it.
Mari turned her back on Moirine and began to stalk around the room, trying to work out her anger without punching out a pregnant woman. She could ignore shit from some pregnant maid she didn't know, but, infuriatingly, she cared what Moirine thought about her. Kicking the leg of the bed, she stomped over to the far corner. A rise out of her? She wanted to get a rise out of her? "Why?" She snapped back. "And how did you change?"
The kick made her suck in a quick breath. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "It's a spell. Lord Myron taught me so that I wouldn't be noticed," she murmured. Somehow, the usual anger wasn't coming. She was afraid. If Mari grabbed her arm and started screaming for them to dispose of the blood-spattered maid, would the necklace help her? She rubbed her fingers together just over the apron pocket. "I thought if I said... all those things, you might recognize me."
Moirine opened her eyes only to look away. "I needed to test it."
"People who aren't Others can't perform magic," was Mari's answer. She'd tried to learn herself, tried to get Justin to teach her, but she'd always failed in that regard. Muggle. It wasn't enough that Moirine had sneaked in and started insulting her, but lying too?
Why would Myron teach her how not to be noticed? "So he knows who you are." And he didn't want her to be found, either. That was interesting; she filed it away so she could explore it when she wasn't incredibly angry. Mari turned back around, glaring at the other girl.
"Now you've tested it. I hope you got what you wanted."
"I can." It was magic, it just wasn't inherently hers. Moirine slowly straightened. This reminded her too much of the times that Mari had sneaked into the citadel and insulted her, provoked her, tried to poison one of her cancellari (without her permission). Was it so different now, or did Mari simply not like being on the receiving end?
"I've tested it... but... some of what I said was true. You don't care about people... you're just scared..." It was harder to say when she knew that she'd be held accountable. Moirine shrugged her shoulders up in anticipation.
"Can't I be scared and care?" She'd never deny she was terrified of dying, especially if what Ermesinda had said was true. But at the same time- she did want to help people. "I want to save lives," she folded her arms across her chest, her mouth still an angry line. "That's why I changed."
Waving an arm around the tiny room, she scowled at Moirine. "Why d'you think I've been spending all my time in here, helping people who treat me like you were doing just then? Who scream when their wounds close, who look at me like I'm a monster? For my health? For myself?"
"People who come to be treated at the Hour speak to you the way I did?" she asked incredulously. There was the anger. Even if she didn't want to fight... this was ridiculous. "I was the Occia," she hissed beneath her breath. "And I was saying the worst things I could think of. I dare you to feel sorrier for yourself for what you did."
She held her belly. She resented Allen for leaving her, but she had made her own choices and not looked back. If Rath chose to disclose what he knew, she'd take the criticism. She'd taken it for years, before she'd even kissed Allen.
"I do think it's for you. You said you knew who you'd save. What do the others matter to you? You'll never make up for the man you killed." Moirine balled her hand around the necklace.
She'd been put through hell on Aldo Sabreme's account. First from Wellington, then Silence and Moirine. Mari's first response was to throw something at her, but she didn't. For a few seconds she did nothing but stand, shaking with anger, then she crossed to the bed and sat down heavily. Lifting her long legs onto the thin mattress, she lay down, the crook of her elbow providing a pillow. She was too tired to fight.
"I think that, you hate me, and that you've always hated me. I also think that you'd find fault with everything I did, even if I went into the bowels of Hell and retrieved the Sabreme. And I also think that you should just leave me be, if this is how it's going to be. Allen told me to take care of you-- Rhys told me to stay close to you." She shrugged and rolled over, so that her working ear was pressed into her arm. "I'm getting rid of Silence, one way or another. So I guess that'll fulfil that promise. Just sit tight and pretend I don't exist until then."
Dare accepted, Moirine.
"Dare fulfilled," she muttered as Mari climbed onto the bed like a child. "You've no idea what I think. But be as dramatic as you please. If my life ever becomes too upsetting, I'll ask the Magus for whatever power I'd like, the same as you."
Moirine grabbed a textbook off the nearest bookcase and flung it at the bed, careful to keep her aim low enough that it didn't hit the girl in the bed. She might have aimed it square at Mari's face and never looked back, but she wasn't that type of person. Then, she slipped the necklace on and marched out of the Hour.
Mari didn't hear her, only felt the impact of the book against her bed. Twisting, she picked it up and threw it at Moirine's retreating back, collapsing back into the bed and burying her face in her arms as it bounced uselessly off the door frame.
Fine. Fine. She could live without friends. Fine!