"One night of rest will not put it off so much. It is better to complete a task with all your energy than give a bare amount to it." Lauralae moves, stepping forward, the light of the moon lighting up her face; she seems gaunt, for the moment, her hands, covered in light gloves, pushing her hair into her hood. "I would not ask for it. The wolf doesn't care for those other than myself."
"In that case, do you know of a good place to rest around here? I'm not much trouble and I can trade for the help." He tugs his own cloak up around his neck and as he fidgets with the clasp, the sense of his shard fades away so that it can't be spotted. "I don't have much to swap, but if you want some bread and dried fruit to go with the rabbit, I'll share what I've got."
"I don't need anything else." She shakes her head; it feels like charity, as if he pities her, and it makes her recoil in frustration. "There is a clearing north of here, by a river. I am sure that would suit you and, if not, a few miles south there is another, one without access to water." Her nose wrinkles as she loses grasp of his shard and she steps closer, her eyes boring into him. "How did you do that?"
"The Queen gave me a boon; it's not a sort of magic I could manage on my own." Harry doesn't really understand how it works, just that it does and he's grateful. Normally he leaves it on, but he thought that leaving his shard visible might help convince Punu to come out of hiding.
"Ah, the Queen and her magic." Lauralae's nose wrinkles, a childish action that goes back to a time when she was with her own people, and she shakes her head. "Their magic is cheating. There is no cost, no adventure in it. A wave of the hand and their will is done." A wave of their hand and, she thinks, she could be cured - but why? What would be the point if she hadn't learned it herself?
"And when there is cost and adventure, she sends us out. That's why I'm here. She sent me to talk to every Unseelie shardbearer." He's almost tempted to ask if she knows how to speak to a peach tree, but doesn't want to push too far. "A wave of her hand, and I'm off to do her will."
"Of course you don't mind. You've her shard in your chest and her gift at your throat. What more could you beg of your queen?" Her own experience with authority, with monarchy, of a sort, has been disheartening at best and, so, she rejects it easily enough, her hand waving. "You're a tool in her game. I suppose you don't mind that, either, do you?"
"I'm not about to tell her to take my shard and put it somewhere indelicate, no." That said, he has made an agreement to support to the aims of the Covenant, to stop either side from winning, and he's moved against his own court.
...and yet, Harry doesn't really mind all that much. He's at his best when being useful and for now, if that means letting Morla use him, then so be it.
"You would not last long without it, I imagine." All shardbearers have magic, of course, she knows that - it's why she keeps Iorveth at her side, desperate to claw it out of his chest as soon as death takes him - but that doesn't mean they know how to use it. Lauralae had to learn alone, blackened hands twisting as she drew her own blood and tried to feel the power of it, to explore how to use it without the guidance of a real teacher. "It is your gift and your curse."
"That and my stunning good looks," he wryly remarks before turning his face up into the moonlight. 'Stunning' is one word for it.
"And no, I don't suppose I will last long. I'll lose it, sooner or later, hopefully later, and I ought to start looking for something to do with myself after. I've been told, there's good work for wizards in Daonna, if you know where to look. S'that true?"
She just raises an eyebrow, deciding it might be better not to comment. Her appreciation for human beauty - or handsomeness, whichever was more appropriate - was minimal at best. She was not the type of person to be impressed with a soft smile and a nice set of eyes; magic is the best means to attract her.
"It is not a lie," she says, careful. "It is a place where you can learn many things, but I do not think it is for the faint hearted, or those unprepared to care for themselves. Do not regard it as a least resort, though. Even the darkest places have their uses."
"I had friends there." He doesn't know where they are now, but he still considers Trouble Is Our Business as his friends. While he'd like to live with his shard inside him for a good, long period of time, he reasons that they'd be willing to put up with him if he'd lost it.
"And, while I'm scared a good deal of the time, I don't think I'm too faint-hearted. Although, you never know until the moment you need it."
"I wonder how long they would be your friends." Loyalty is not something familiar to her, not anymore, and her eyes dance as she regards Harry. Friends in Daonna, a shardling with magic powers and a broom that can move up into the sky; she had never heard of the likes before.
Her nose wrinkles, almost childish.
"Fear is fuel. You ought to use it to your advantage."
"I don't know, but they saved my life after hardly knowing me, so I can't
complain." Harry tends to believe that people are loyal until proved
otherwise. "They might be out to use me for a court connection, I'm not so
dim that I can't see that it's possible, but I don't think that really
changes things. At least, not for now."
"And I do try to use it. To be smart about it. I'm scared more for my
friends than me, which bothers them, I suppose."
"No, I suppose your complaints would be unfounded." She thinks of the way her people 'helped' her, cast out from the only home she had ever known, the peeling feel of something eating at her insides keeping her awake at night. "Not for now, no. They can tell what you are as easily as I can and anyone with half a mind would use it against you."
It's logical. People use you, abuse you, and she has learned that surviving through that means doing the same in return; using people, taking what they offer and lashing out if they ask for too much in return. It's like a diagram, a step-by-step process.
"You may be smart, but you are still claimed. You are tainted by their touch and none would soon forget it."
If she were to explain her viewpoint, Harry wouldn't entirely disagree.
People in power tend to use those with less and that's just how the world
works, but that doesn't mean he has to bow to tradition.
"I know. I see the looks I get, I can hear when people speak behind my
back, and I don't like it, but I can't blame them. Wherever shardbearers
go, things go to pot, and they don't come back to set right what they've
overturned. It's wrong, I think, but there's a lot more in the courts than
just me."
"You are given power you often have no right to claim," her head shakes, her hood sinking lower around her shoulders - baring more of her face for Harry to see. She couldn't talk, she imagines, since her power, the hands she has and the strength she was given given to her through curse, not kindness, but she makes the point still, despite the hypocrisy.
When she speaks again her eyes have lifted to look at him, boring into his.
"You come to this world and turn things upside down, are given things you do not entirely deserve and claim to have ownership over the land, over the power here. You are their pets, nothing more."
"I don't lay claim to anything. All I own, all that's really mine in this
world is my broom and my wand; I don't even have much right to myself." If
he did, would he be in the middle of a forest at night looking for a
magical polecat with a glowing green rock in its chest? Probably not, no.
"I'm not that smart, I know that, and I haven't thought of a better thing
to do."
"I'm good with my magic and when I'm in town, I trade on it rather than my
shard."
"But you do their bidding to keep your bauble in your chest." Shaking her head, she breathes out, tries to reign herself in. Arguing with one of the shardbearers isn't going to get her anywhere and, if she doesn't get back within two hours, Iorveth will likely come to find her and shake her by the scruff for being gone for so long. He doesn't worry, particularly, but he hates being bothered by her existence.
"In that, I'm luckier to be Unseelie." It's the nature of their court that
they've got a little more leeway to do what they want over what they ought.
"And I'm not bad. I'm still learning."
"Why, what do you want to know? What do you need done?"
"It's not luck." That's all she can say, and Lauralae tilts her head, new thoughts crossing her mind as she looks at him, glancing at the shard in his chest. She doesn't trust him, she doesn't trust anyone, but she wants the power she knows twinkles there. Expression steeling, she takes a step back.
"Curiosity. Nothing else. I don't want anything from you."
"Fair enough. If you change your mind, I'll be in the clearing to the
north." It's getting darker and he wants to get himself there before it's
too dark and he ends up tripping over a downed log, falling into a ground
wasp nest, and dying rather ignominiously in a forest.
She shakes her head; if she were the type to trust blindly, as so many do, she might whine rhetoric about her poor, desolate curse and how she needs aid in fixing it. Instead, she steps forward, eyes flickering here and there before she purses her lips. "One question."
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"I don't mind, though."
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...and yet, Harry doesn't really mind all that much. He's at his best when being useful and for now, if that means letting Morla use him, then so be it.
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"And no, I don't suppose I will last long. I'll lose it, sooner or later, hopefully later, and I ought to start looking for something to do with myself after. I've been told, there's good work for wizards in Daonna, if you know where to look. S'that true?"
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"It is not a lie," she says, careful. "It is a place where you can learn many things, but I do not think it is for the faint hearted, or those unprepared to care for themselves. Do not regard it as a least resort, though. Even the darkest places have their uses."
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"And, while I'm scared a good deal of the time, I don't think I'm too faint-hearted. Although, you never know until the moment you need it."
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Her nose wrinkles, almost childish.
"Fear is fuel. You ought to use it to your advantage."
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"I don't know, but they saved my life after hardly knowing me, so I can't complain." Harry tends to believe that people are loyal until proved otherwise. "They might be out to use me for a court connection, I'm not so dim that I can't see that it's possible, but I don't think that really changes things. At least, not for now."
"And I do try to use it. To be smart about it. I'm scared more for my friends than me, which bothers them, I suppose."
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It's logical. People use you, abuse you, and she has learned that surviving through that means doing the same in return; using people, taking what they offer and lashing out if they ask for too much in return. It's like a diagram, a step-by-step process.
"You may be smart, but you are still claimed. You are tainted by their touch and none would soon forget it."
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If she were to explain her viewpoint, Harry wouldn't entirely disagree. People in power tend to use those with less and that's just how the world works, but that doesn't mean he has to bow to tradition.
"I know. I see the looks I get, I can hear when people speak behind my back, and I don't like it, but I can't blame them. Wherever shardbearers go, things go to pot, and they don't come back to set right what they've overturned. It's wrong, I think, but there's a lot more in the courts than just me."
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When she speaks again her eyes have lifted to look at him, boring into his.
"You come to this world and turn things upside down, are given things you do not entirely deserve and claim to have ownership over the land, over the power here. You are their pets, nothing more."
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"I don't lay claim to anything. All I own, all that's really mine in this world is my broom and my wand; I don't even have much right to myself." If he did, would he be in the middle of a forest at night looking for a magical polecat with a glowing green rock in its chest? Probably not, no. "I'm not that smart, I know that, and I haven't thought of a better thing to do."
"I'm good with my magic and when I'm in town, I trade on it rather than my shard."
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"You're good with magic. Powerful magic?"
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"In that, I'm luckier to be Unseelie." It's the nature of their court that they've got a little more leeway to do what they want over what they ought. "And I'm not bad. I'm still learning."
"Why, what do you want to know? What do you need done?"
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"Curiosity. Nothing else. I don't want anything from you."
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"Fair enough. If you change your mind, I'll be in the clearing to the north." It's getting darker and he wants to get himself there before it's too dark and he ends up tripping over a downed log, falling into a ground wasp nest, and dying rather ignominiously in a forest.
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"Ask and I'll answer." She might not like the answer, but he'll give her something. It's only good manners.
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