"The tallest one," John says, because it doesn't really matter which cluster of Walrus men Billy's standing in. He'll be the tallest one.
But he senses the emotion behind that response. He wants it to be something more, for his own trust in Billy to be something reassuring, but it's a shorthand that doesn't quite catch. How little he has to offer her. That first, resounding defeat has made it very clear to John that it's necessary to bring more forces to crush their opposition, but it also means he can't ignore the danger he's leaving her to.
"What would you have me bring you back, aside from an army?"
A tease that's likely to go nowhere, but still attempted. Madi is committed to this war. Whatever trinket John could lift from a Kirkwall merchant wouldn't compare to the kind of force that could deliver a victory to them.
"Perhaps two armies," she says, giving it just enough thought that it might seem she actually considered her options. Pearls? Gold? She wants nothing from Kirkwall other than victory over her enemies and the safe--that word again--return of Silver.
Her mirth is contained to a sidelong glance and the barest quirk of her lips.
But back to business: "Will tall Billy follow orders?" They both know the difference between her men and his, where orders are concerned.
Even the faintest suggestion of a smile from her catches in his chest. It feels like a small tug on the end of a string, pulling at a hook caught behind his ribs. When had she left it there? John still cannot say.
"Billy is committed to this war," John answers. "He respects this partnership, and he knows the island. Between the two of you, the Venatori and Rogers' forces can be kept in check."
John has a way of speaking as if it would bend the world to his words. He's felt the Veil flutter at times, sparking to the rise of his voice. But there is no need to put that sort of power into these words. It is the truth. He raises her hand to his mouth, kisses her knuckles.
"I'll miss you."
Is this consolation? It is another truth, and a rare one. John is still astonished by it.
Madi is struck then, by the sense that she won't see John's face again for an agonizingly long time. It hollows her out inside, leaving just her heart and a coil of dread and longing that tightens around it. She puts one hand to his cheek and kisses him.For that kiss, there is no rush, no time being wasted, no urgency, just heartbeats and breath and gentleness and something like love.
"Then hurry back to me." Yes, she'll miss him, too.
When they had narrowly managed their retreat from Nascere, when this plan had been discussed, John had realized exactly what he was going to be giving up. The sea had returned him. Flint had delivered him from red coats and given him back to Madi. If their attack had gone differently, then the whole of this war could have been fought together.
But their defeat changes everything. It changes how they can proceed, if they want to prevail in their goals. The soft clutch of her hand and the sweetness of her mouth, John will have to give that up for the present. His fingers tighten on her hip, and he exhales hard as the kiss breaks.
"I will," John promises. Has he ever promised such a thing before and meant it? "Just promise me that you..."
What? What promise can he extract? Madi will do what she must. John knows that. He trails off, eyes closing as he rests his forehead against hers. Many things live, unspoken, in that unfinished sentence.
She too closes her eyes, the world around them quieting until there is naught but the sound of their shared breath and the beating of their hearts.
No, she cannot promise that which she cannot keep, and yes, she will do what must be done. Of that there is no question, no doubt. So what can she offer to soothe his mind? What promise is there she can uphold, when so much is unknown, intangible, fleeting?
Only to keep going, to keep hoping, and keep loving. She makes that promise to herself, seals it with another kiss, and when she opens her eyes to look upon his face, she smiles.
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But he senses the emotion behind that response. He wants it to be something more, for his own trust in Billy to be something reassuring, but it's a shorthand that doesn't quite catch. How little he has to offer her. That first, resounding defeat has made it very clear to John that it's necessary to bring more forces to crush their opposition, but it also means he can't ignore the danger he's leaving her to.
"What would you have me bring you back, aside from an army?"
A tease that's likely to go nowhere, but still attempted. Madi is committed to this war. Whatever trinket John could lift from a Kirkwall merchant wouldn't compare to the kind of force that could deliver a victory to them.
no subject
Her mirth is contained to a sidelong glance and the barest quirk of her lips.
But back to business: "Will tall Billy follow orders?" They both know the difference between her men and his, where orders are concerned.
no subject
"Billy is committed to this war," John answers. "He respects this partnership, and he knows the island. Between the two of you, the Venatori and Rogers' forces can be kept in check."
John has a way of speaking as if it would bend the world to his words. He's felt the Veil flutter at times, sparking to the rise of his voice. But there is no need to put that sort of power into these words. It is the truth. He raises her hand to his mouth, kisses her knuckles.
"I'll miss you."
Is this consolation? It is another truth, and a rare one. John is still astonished by it.
no subject
"Then hurry back to me." Yes, she'll miss him, too.
no subject
But their defeat changes everything. It changes how they can proceed, if they want to prevail in their goals. The soft clutch of her hand and the sweetness of her mouth, John will have to give that up for the present. His fingers tighten on her hip, and he exhales hard as the kiss breaks.
"I will," John promises. Has he ever promised such a thing before and meant it? "Just promise me that you..."
What? What promise can he extract? Madi will do what she must. John knows that. He trails off, eyes closing as he rests his forehead against hers. Many things live, unspoken, in that unfinished sentence.
no subject
No, she cannot promise that which she cannot keep, and yes, she will do what must be done. Of that there is no question, no doubt. So what can she offer to soothe his mind? What promise is there she can uphold, when so much is unknown, intangible, fleeting?
Only to keep going, to keep hoping, and keep loving. She makes that promise to herself, seals it with another kiss, and when she opens her eyes to look upon his face, she smiles.
"I will."