The stories lied to her. When the Sapphire Mother takes the stage, she doesn’t [i]walk[/i]. She has people to do that for her. She lounges on a seat of brilliant blue lotus petals, borne by priestesses in their finest silks. She does not command them to stop, and set her down. She does not demand they bring cups of the finest wine, and raise them to her lips whenever she desires drink. She does not snap her fingers for someone to take the coat from her shoulders. All this is done for her, freely, as an act of worship. In deference and demonstration to her power. Bull. Shit. The priestesses could drop her any time they wanted. Or throw the wine in her face. Or make her stand there awkwardly with her coat on like a big dumb idiot while everyone points and laughs. Power?! There’s not a damn thing powerful about, about priestess on their knees, begging to serve you. Screw that, there’s nobody who’s got more power than them. There’s nobody that could drive a dagger through your heart easier. If the Sapphire Mother’s so powerful, why doesn’t she just float in herself, huh?! Pour her own damn wine! Gah! [i]Let her care for you.[/i] The barge didn’t count. Emli was. Different. If she wanted to eat some breakfast in the morning, what was so bad about somebody bringing it to her room before she woke up? Saved her a damn walk. And, if she wanted to [s]sulk[/s] walk around the gardens, then of course she wanted directions. Stupid barge, with too many stupid decks to keep track of. Emli was smart, and, professional, and good at a job she, loved, and, she’d do all that whether you asked her or not, and you could always just, leave, or do something else if you wanted. It’s. It’s different, when, she’s on her knees, in [i]that[/i] dress, with [i]those[/i] eyes staring up at her, so she can see the flickering lanterns reflected in them, and, and, asking. With. Her mouth. Open. To… (Her burning heart is doused in river and rain. All available fuel burns to hold her shoulder together. Lotus’ hands are so, so light. And soft. All she does is stand here. Lotus strokes her arm tenderly. She will not stop. She could stand here, and do nothing, and she wouldn’t stop pouring this little, tender comfort on her. If she tugged, she could pull Han to her knees. If she laughed, she could shatter her. If she smiled, she could pull her heart out of her chest, and she would never get it back.) [i]Let her care for you.[/i] Something between a growl and a groan nestles in her throat, and refuses to come out, or make up its mind which it would be when it did. It is the stupidest noise she has ever made, until she opens her mouth to speak. “Alright. Just. Don’t freak out. It looks worse than it is.” She sits? She kneels? No, she sits. No, she leans casually against the side of the bed. No, the bed’s the wrong height and she’s the filthiest thing in the room she sits. No, kneels. Crouches? She crouches. She crouches very close to sitting, but she could stand up anytime she wanted to, so [i]there[/i]. “Damn floor….” she mutters. She rolls up her sleeve to her shoulder. And keeps pulling it back. Her shoulder is mottled with deep purple splotches. Something may have snapped inside. Maybe several somethings. She holds herself stiffly. She can’t see where the bruises stretch onto her back. She can feel where they darken her collarbone. Perilously close to her neck. Her throat. (She fought the Dominion spy? In this condition?) “I wasn’t gonna leave it like this or anything.” So, you can’t scold her now. She didn’t do anything wrong. “I was gonna heal it on my own, when I got my wind back.” Her wells of Essence were dry, is all. Dry enough that she couldn’t flood her body with life and energy. All she’d have to do is sit here, and bite her tongue for however many hours it took to build her reserves back. Then she could spend them. Then she could lie limp and exhausted, and wait, and wait, until she could stand again. Her little bud would never have known. She [i]couldn’t[/i] have known. Not on the walk. Not in the fight. Not a minute ago. Lotus would’ve offered to heal it on the spot. Because she’s kind to everybody. Because she’s got a heart big enough for the whole world. Because it’d break that heart of hers to know somebody was hurt, and she could do something to make them feel better. Even if she had to kiss their neck. Their throat. Anywhere, anyplace, even where only lovers and slaves go. And Han knew that. And if she let anything slip, it’d be just the same as…it’d be just like tricking her. Into kissing her, again. When she’s just kind to everybody. Even beasts. But it’s different, when she’s asking. If she’s offered, already. [i]Let her care for you.[/i] Han’s free hand finds Lotus’. And clumsily squeezes. Because she needs to hold something, or else the rush of blood and terror in her head will sweep her away. Do not let go. Do not let her go, Lotus of Tranquil Waters. “You should. Be thorough.” Oh gods oh heavens what is she saying what is happening what is any of this. “I don’t know how any of this magic crap works, okay?! So. I. Want you, to.” Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?! “Take your time. And. Don’t miss any spots.” She looks her in the eye. She has to look her in the eyes. Oh gods she’s looking her in the eyes. “That’s what I want.” And Lotus is looking right back and she’s leaning now her chest is pressing soft into her arm and oh. (Her lips are warmer than she remembers…)