She dodged behind the flap of an opening tent, catching it before it swished shut and prompting a quick, confused stare from the man who exited. Mismatched eyes kept an easy bead on Haman’s broad and, apparently, very scarred back. She chewed the inside of her cheek briefly, contemplating on his words, mulling over his strange blend of passion for protecting his Prince and nonchalance at the kidnapping of said Prince. He certainly hadn’t seemed to be lying, and no one from Linden had anything shifty to say about the kneecap-buster that didn’t reek of duty and pride. She dropped the flap of canvas and followed again at a not-so-distant distance, taking stealthy steps even though the ambient camp sounds were more than enough to cover any -<br/><br/>A firm pressure pulled on her shoulder and she jerked back in surprise, grabbing the offending wrist and pivoting her body to intersect her assailant against the grain, only to meet a pair of very familiar, pale green eyes.<br/><br/>Rendir didn’t look quite as fresh as he had on the battlefield, but all things considered, he really wasn’t too damaged. A wide, angry gash ran from the corner of his mouth to his left temple, no longer bleeding but still very inflamed around the edges. His right arm was in a sling, as well; for someone who specialized with a bow, compromised arms could be a bit of a problem, but other than that he had gotten away with a few bruises.<br/><br/>She dropped her hand from his arm and it fell to his side, and for a few beats the siblings just stared at each other. Finally, Rendir opened his mouth and gestured very broadly with his functional arm, his expression somewhere between astonishment and exasperation as he indicated the entire surrounding army camp while staring at his sister.<br/><br/>Sen shrugged.<br/><br/>The elder sibling sputtered an incredulous snort, then ran his good hand through his bangs and looked away, eyes moving quickly but taking nothing in.<br/><br/>“Thought I was hallucinating out there, you know,” her brother started, still not looking at her, “on the field. Especially when I didn’t see you at the send-off for the fallen.”<br/><br/><span style="color: #80BFBF">“Trying to keep a low profile,”</span>she murmured, crossing her arms loosely and turning to stare vacantly in the same direction.<br/><br/>“Naturally.” The word was accompanied by a snort of sarcastic acceptance.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80BFBF">“Were there many?”</span><br/><br/>“Hm?”<br/><br/><span style="color: #80BFBF">“Fallen,”</span>she said firmly, finally pivoting to stare at the side of his face,<span style="color: #80BFBF">“Were there a lot of casualties? From our House?”</span><br/><br/>Rendir’s look of stubborn discontent faded into something softer, sadder, and he handed her a folded up piece of parchment that had been tucked into the front of his vest. “We brought a lot of men, Seniré.”<br/><br/>She unfolded the paper and read down the list of names and injured, her eyes skimming for two very specific titles. The list of deceased held neither (she released the breath she’d been holding, thanking whichever gods were listening with it), but there was one on the other side.<span style="color: #80BFBF">“Emmet?”</span><br/><br/>“His leg.”<br/><br/><span style="color: #80BFBF">“Broken?”</span><br/><br/>“Gone.”<br/><br/>Sen’s face paled and she stared blankly at the words for a moment. Her tall, statuesque brother, the apple of her parents’ eyes, the object of poetic desire for so many courtly ladies, who made his name as a proud, fierce, naturally-talented warrior. Reduced to a cripple. He wouldn’t fight again, at least, not very well. She knew he had put a lot of stock in always being able to follow in father’s footsteps and now… now, he wouldn’t really be following anyone. Sen felt an unfamiliar pang of pity for the proudest of her siblings.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80BFBF">“I should go see him - ” </span><br/><br/>“You should go<span style="font-style: italic">home</span>, little sister.” Rendir finally turned to stare at her, his gaze intense. “This isn’t the place for you. I know you think with your new hair and clothes and –eye?- that you can hold your own out here but - ”<br/><br/>Sen felt a very defensive fire turn from a simmer to a boil in her gut, but before she could properly scorch him, Rendir had turned away to grab the arm of a passing soldier. His livery affiliated him with her family, but she didn’t recognize the smaller crest. The horsetailed man barked a few terse orders at him in a quiet tone, received a whispered response, then nodded curtly. Sen found it odd to watch him be so much like their father.<br/><br/>“Take my horse and leave. Just get out of camp, back the way you came. Go. Home.” With his final emphatic press on the last two words, he turned heel and strode with the departing soldier. Sen could see him turning to interrogate the man even as they walked, his intelligent eyes sparking. He was always better at strategy and politics than the eldest brother; Rendir probably would have fared a lot better without all four limbs.<br/><br/>She pondered his last order, hot offense slowing to a vindictive simmer as she cast a sweeping stare around her position. Haman was long gone, of course. Sen was torn between rolling her eyes because<span style="font-style: italic">of course</span>her target was gone and snarling in frustration because the<span style="font-style: italic">one</span>person from back home that might have understood, that might have been<span style="font-style: italic">willing</span>to<span style="font-style: italic">try</span>to understand, had turned his back on her and left her standing in his dust, just like the rest of them. Just like always.<br/><br/>There was no way Haman would be difficult to find, at least. She suspected it would take no more than a few minutes of searching and some light eavesdropping, but before the theory could be tested, she became vaguely aware of a particularly well-lit spot. Not “well-lit” as in too many torches, either. Wisps of colors faded in and out of each other, far more faint than they had been in the recent battle but unmistakably present, like footprints on a shore with a rising tide. They formed a sort of iridescent dome, growing slightly more vibrant toward the lower center, and before she had really registered what she was doing she had adjusted her course.<br/><br/>The light around the tent wasn’t painfully bright by any means, not the way it had been before, but it was still different from the dim camp that sprawled around it; Sen found it strangely unpopulated, given the unnatural light and the tension in the air around it. It seemed important that she be close to this place, to this feeling, so that –<br/><br/>The armored arm caught her square across the shoulders and neck, an abrupt barrier that made her sputter a quick cough and turn.<br/><br/>She remembered him clearly, though she’d only seen him for a few seconds before; the man in the full helm, following the God that had fixed her eye. He didn’t look any more inviting than he had in their first encounter, but he still initiated conversation with a terse, “I remember you.”<br/><br/>The blonde woman swallowed, suddenly feeling awkward again. Something about being stared down was considerably more intense when all one could see was the set of eyes doing the staring. Sen wasn’t sure if his golden-bronze armor was particularly well-shined, or if he was still wreathed in a very faint coating of the same colored light. She opened her mouth to choke out some sort of response, but he saved her the trouble and continued with “Thought you’d be dead by now.”<br/><br/>Well, that was rude. Sen’s face and tone said as much while she answered<span style="color: #80BFBF">“Sorry to disappoint.”</span><br/><br/>“Maybe next time,” came the metallic response, armor clinking as the man hefted his quarterstaff against his shoulder. The woman’s stare flattened further, but she decided that his stone-cold eyes had softened, just a little. Maybe, under that full helm and thick armor, this silent, hovering figure could actually be a decent, warm –<br/><br/>The business-end of his quarterstaff caught her in the lower back, right in the left kidney.<br/><br/>She inhaled sharply in pain, helmeted-echo chiming in. “Come at me, little girl.”<br/><br/>Sen wheeled around to face him, eyes watering even though she knew the blow hadn’t been that hard. Just a tap, proof that even though she had been staring directly at him, he was still fast enough to reach her back. Clearly to make a point more than anything else, but it still hurt.<span style="color: #80BFBF">“No,”</span>she retorted sharply, trying to disguise the discomfort in her voice. Regardless of the one-sidedness, she hardly felt confrontational just now; the aftermath of the battle had been taxing, almost as taxing as the actual thing, which hadn’t even been that long ago and –<br/><br/>The butt of the long weapon caught her again, in the solar plexus.<br/><br/>She doubled-over, still acutely aware that it had been little more than a skip forward and a love-tap to the tall man.<span style="color: #80BFBF">“Knock it off!”</span>she finally barked, ignoring the inevitable nausea that typically followed such a blow.<br/><br/>“Let’s see how much longer you’ve got.”<br/><br/>Sen saw the quarterstaff this time, keeping a defensive hyperawareness of her body; she pulled her shoulder back just in time to avoid it, and, somehow, just in time to stumble backwards over it. She landed hard on her hind end, staring up with unconcealed frustration and anger to the rude, full-helmed asshole.<span style="color: #80BFBF">“Not long, all right?”</span>she spat, scrambling ungracefully to her feet, the blood rushing to her face.<br/><br/>For a moment, he was silent, standing in front of her with his weapon in a far more passive stance. She stared at the only visible part of his face, trying to read his expression while awaiting what would undoubtedly be another calm, offensive retort, but he only tilted his head very slightly and murmured, “Maybe.”<br/><br/>Sen’s stare turned almost as flat as her chest, but before she could respond, a familiar voice came from the well-lit tent. “Lagaan.”<br/><br/>Without any further acknowledgement of her existence, the man with the quarterstaff quickly and silently disappeared behind the tent flaps.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Maybe</span>.<br/><br/>Sen stood there for another few minutes, unaware of the occasional soldier walking by or the burst of ambient sound. Maybe. She would either die soon, or not as soon. This close affiliate with the divine presence in the camp wasn’t quite as informative and omniscient as he wanted to appear. She didn’t dislike him, despite the dull aching in her torso. Or perhaps it was simply that she was very curious to see what his face looked like beneath that bronze helm and those vague references to her early death.<br/><br/>The gawky woman finally stirred and headed past the tent, turning for the makeshift paddocks that housed the remainder of the mounts for their dwindling forces. She hadn’t forgotten about Haman and his shifty behavior regarding the apparent kidnapping of the Prince-Commander, but she had decided to skip the giant middle-man altogether and pick up the trail on her own. She would need to be able to move quickly. Perhaps with a horse belonging to this Lagaan, or Rendir, or any of the other people who continued to doubt her.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“… important.”</span>Unbidden, the memory flickered to life, seeming faded even though it had been such a short time ago.<span style="font-style: italic">“You must succeed- you are the first, and a quick death for you would not do much for our cause.”</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Maybe</span>.<br/><br/>She scowled in determination, prompting a couple of passing squires to eye her warily and give her a wide berth.