Splinter Angel

Social
Skill	Level
Acting	5
Charm	5
Command	6
Deception	2
Intimidation	5
Negotiation	3
Sense Motive	3
Teaching	2

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Survival
Skill	Level
Camping	2
Harvesting	1
Herbalism	1
Stealth	3
Tracking	2

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Weapons and Combat
Skill	Level
Axes	4
Blunt Weapons	4
Crossbows	3
Defense	4
Long Blades	2
Shields	4
Short Blades	3
Unarmed Combat	8

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Magic
Skill	Level
Shaping	1

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Miscellaneous
Skill	Level
Inspect	4

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Yeah. Not bad, if she said so herself. Her performance earlier — No, the day before yesterday, she corrected herself — spoke for itself. She'd defeated a revenant with a Threat Level of Extreme, then fought her way through most of a horde of magical zombies. She wasn't unstoppable, obviously, but she was damned tough.

Now I just have to make sure that I don't lose my damn mind and become a danger to everyone around me, she thought.

You won't.

The words were soft and distant, but their source was unmistakable. Ana had never been so relieved to hear a voice in her head. It was strange. She didn't worship the goddess, not in any way. She didn't even know much about her, what she'd done in the past or what she stood for. But Ana felt that the Wayfarer wanted the same thing as she did, at least for now, and it was comforting, in a way, to have her there.

Do you know that? Can you see the future?

No. But I believe in you.

Thank you, she thought, and she meant it. The expedition?

No one has left the Delve. There are fewer prayers. But some live. Your friend Kaira prays for you, and for many others.

The goddess' voice drifted off, as though so many words had worn her out. And perhaps they had; Ana knew that it cost the goddess something to communicate directly. She sent out her thanks, expecting no reply, and turned to nuzzle Messy's hair.

They both woke when Touanne knocked on the door. It could only have been minutes, but Ana felt like she'd been interrupted halfway through a nap — all the grogginess with none of the rest. They'd slipped down, and Ana had pulled Messy in so that she lay fully in her arms.

"I brought you the books," Touanne said pointlessly, putting the things down next to Ana. Her eyes were a little puffy, but she wore a genuine smile as she looked between them. "Gods, you're precious. Mestendi, are you awake?"

"Mmmn, yeah."

"Make sure that she drinks all of that decoction. There's a few cups' worth left, and I'm making more."

"'Kay."

"Thanks for the… everything," Ana said, sitting up straight again and opening the books on her lap. She felt hot again. The words swam, and she blinked her eyes furiously. "Tou, could I have some—?"

"Here." The Healer had already poured her a cup of the sage-flavored liquid. Ana hadn't even noticed her move around the bed to pour it. "Drink down the whole thing, now."

Ana did as she'd been told, handing the cup back gratefully as she felt that same wave of cool relief as before. "Thanks. Hey, is Messy all right?"

The woman was fast asleep, her head in Ana's lap.

"She didn't sleep the whole time you were out," Touanne said fondly. "I tried. Tellak tried. She refused. She wanted to be here when you woke up."

"Oh. She must be tired." Ana tucked a few of Messy's many thin braids behind her ear, stroking the exposed cheek. "She's too good for me."

Touanne sat down. "Why do you say that?"

"She came for me. You know how badly it affected her when she joined us to rescue the Servemels, but she picked up her sword and came out when I needed help. She stayed up for… how long? Thirty hours? Forty? Just to make sure she'd be there when I woke up. She loves me. She shows me that she loves me, all the time. And I can't love her back."

"Sure you do."

"You know I can't. I've told you how my mind works. You've felt my— my aura, or whatever."

"And yet, it's plain as anything, to anyone who sees you two together, that you've found a way to love her nonetheless. Not in the way that the poets and playwright describe it, perhaps, not the love that makes people wither without one another, but I have no doubt that what you feel for her is love, in one form or another. You care for her, don't you?"

"Yeah, but—"

Touanne cut her off. "How does she make you feel, Ana?"

Ana stroked Messy's cheek, her fingers trailing down to the line of her jaw, then following that line up to the tip of her small, slightly pointed ear. Messy gave off a soft, contented sigh, and a little ball of warmth flared in Ana's chest.

"Safe. Warm. Happy. And so damn lucky."

Touanne nodded. "You've made her the most important person in your life. You've made her happiness and her safety more important than your own, haven't you?"

"Yeah."

"Then what's missing? What makes what you have any different from love?"

"It's…" Ana trailed off. She couldn't think of a convincing answer. What she felt seemed cheap to her, somehow, compared to how she'd always heard "real" love described. But what did she lack? Jealousy? Possessiveness? She didn't care if Messy spent time with someone else, or even slept with them. Was that so bad? And if Messy decided that she wanted to call their relationship off, Ana would respect that. Would she be upset? Yeah. Of course she would. She liked how Messy made her feel. Messy calmed and grounded her, and she didn't want to lose that. But she didn't own her.

Ana knew that some people got upset when their partners weren't jealous or possessive. She wondered if Messy would be upset if she knew how Ana felt. Probably not. Messy had been surprisingly accepting of Ana's "favorite dress" analogy.

"You know what?" Ana gave Touanne a crooked smile before turning back to the woman sleeping in her lap. "You're right. It may not be love, but it's close enough."

Ana read. She drank the medicine Touanne had provided, moving very carefully so she wouldn't wake Messy, and then she read some more. Her reading speed and comprehension were shocking; her retention, nothing short of amazing. After reading through the entirety of the grimoire, or whatever it was, she basically didn't need Touanne's notes anymore. She went back to them every so often, anyway, when she wasn't sure about something, but each time it turned out that her guess had been right. She felt like John Travolta in that old movie where a solar flare or whatever gave him a brain tumor.

When evening rolled around and Touanne insisted that Ana wake Messy so they could both eat something, Ana was in the middle of her second read-through. She was making sure that she hadn't missed anything by skimming too quickly or spacing out; she wasn't a habitual reader, and those were two of her most common problems when reading anything longer than a video description. With the confusion that came and went it was worse than ever, making a re-read essential. She'd finish after dinner.

Despite the lure of food, she found that she didn't want to get up. Sitting there in bed, reading, with Messy curled up next to her, sleeping with her head on Ana's lap… it was a placid, domestic bliss that Ana had never experienced or known that she'd wanted, and now she didn't want it to end.

But she'd also been in bed for well over a full day. She was hungry. And she'd drunk about a gallon of liquid in the last several hours, a fact that she was becoming more and more conscious of with every passing second.

With deep regret, she woke Messy. She calmed her girlfriend's sleepy protests with gentle words and second-hand promises of food — the woman did not want to wake up, but she was as hungry as Ana — and got them both out of bed. The cool air of the room assaulted her bare, sweaty skin, but there was a pile of her spare clothes on the dresser across from the bed — no doubt thanks to Messy — as well as a thick, too-big robe that must have been Touanne's.

Ana had felt all right as long as she was just sitting in bed, but once she started moving she felt stiff and weak. A lot like a bad flu, really, but without the snot and coughing. Messy moved automatically to help her with her clothes, and Ana almost protested, almost told her that she could do it herself, but… why? She liked being taken care of. And everything about Messy, her gentle smile, her soft touches, the way she told Ana to, "Lift your foot a little, Angel. There you go. Now, the other one…" Everything about Messy told Ana that she liked taking care of her just as much as Ana liked being taken care of.

When they were all done, and Messy had straightened the robe, which hung almost to the floor, Ana pulled her in for a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered, her lips in the hollow behind Messy's collarbone. "For everything."

"Anything, Angel. But what for?"

"For—"

God, Ana knew what she wanted to say, but now the words wouldn't come. She couldn't express herself. "For all the firsts," she said lamely.

Messy stiffened, pulling back just enough to look down at her. "Wait, you weren't— before we— were you?"

"What?" Then Ana understood, and she snorted and pulled Messy back in. "God! No, Mess! Is that all you think about? No, for… For all this. I don't know. I can't talk. I'll explain sometime."

She placed a soft kiss on the side of Messy's throat, feeling the artery there pound under her lips. "Just… Thank you. For you."