Chapter Text
Imogen was getting better at cities. She took pride in that, because cities fucking sucked.
Sure, there were good things. Ale, food, pretty faces on occasion. But there were an awful lot of people, and people, for the most part, fucking sucked.
At least when they were all crammed in together in these patches. Imogen would start getting these… headaches. They’d been coming since, well since she left. Part of why she did matter of fact.
It got so exhausting, feeling that piercing presence of mind after mind rubbing up against hers. It just felt like their eyes and existence bore straight into her head like needles, and it was draining.
Then the storm clouds started coming, telling her it was time to go. Nature itself had become the symbol that she didn’t belong, following her around like an omen. She needed to be away from that.
Hadn’t figured it would follow her out of that little town.
Her eyes trailed up to the telltale beginnings of grey above her. A rumble of thunder as she brushed shoulders with another stranger. Hard to hide what was ailing you when the sky painted it above.
Maybe a pint of ale at the next place she found would help quiet the storm.
She shifted the strap on her pack and nodded at a young orc girl staring a little too intently, slight pink to her green cheeks, before turning and hurrying along. She saw a merchant stuck in the mud ahead and paused with a nod to help grab the back wheel and shift it to a start again, putting her shoulder under the chassis and earning a wave of thanks as they finally broke free and pulled their cart along.
Ahead an older lady had dropped her bag and was recovering the oranges as best she could and Imogen plopped down to a knee with a gentle, “Let me get those for you.” And gathered the rest.
For as much as she didn’t like people she supposed one on one it was nice sharing a moment with someone.
“Over here.” She heard quickly whispered in a hushed and venomous tone. She saw two figures in darker cloaks nodding at each other. One whistled a high pitch as they followed down an alleyway and a third hopped down from an overhead porch, quickly putting their hands in their pockets and following pace.
“Hmm…” Imogen squinted, sensing a lousy something a foot. “There you are. Got em from here?” She handed the bag to the older lady who patted her hand affectionately.
“Thank you so much. You’re too kind, I’m not far.” She gestured down the street toward a spire of houses and started off down the path, and Imogen looked around, feeling a low rumble in her chest and the sky around her. She stepped quick and quiet, as much as she could, toward the wall to peek down the alley.
There were the three figures she saw from before and what looked like 2, 3, 4 more. 7 total. She scanned the narrow space and saw them blocking both sides of the path around a lone figure that stuck out a bit like a sore thumb.
It was definitely a she. Her form was lithe, like really lithe. A board practically under her baggy black pants. The cuffs bound around her ankles in bandages. Her torso had some kind of maroon vest hood combo. Little embroidery of skulls in red thread that Imogen could make out from here patching over other holes. Her arms hung out from the sleeves, also wrapped in bandages, from shoulder to fingertips.
Interesting.
More so they seemed… to hang rather unnaturally. Like they weren’t quite limp, but not… responsive.
The group was circling in and the fascinating stranger was clocking their approach.
“Don’t suppose there’s anything I can say to discourage this?” The voice said. A rasp to it, but a humor considering the situation at hand. And an accent Imogen hadn’t heard before. Something lilting and refined.
“Lookit that, not as dumb as it looks.” One of the voices sneered and Imogen shifted her hand behind her pack and slid free her forge hammer.
Yeah, fuck these guys.
She heard the thunder rumble above her. Felt the pinching in her brain like a sirens call. Telling of where her emotions were heading and she was welcoming it. Let it rain, let it storm. She was the storm after all baby.
A few of the goons looked up to the incoming rain, taking note, but of the wrong things. And the hooded friend took it as the opportunity to jump toward the wall to the side, push off to the opposite, and with the height go up and over one of the attackers heads in a diving roll toward Imogen’s side of the alley.
Yeah, her arms definitely didn’t work right. They hung by her side, moving only with momentum. Now that she was facing Imogen she could barely make out her features beneath the hood. Besides the eyes. They were dark and inky but had this glow to them… like life itself.
When the goons called out in response she turned her attention toward a stack of crates and ran up them, throwing herself at a ladder that was hanging off the side of the building, somehow catching herself with stiff arms slid through the grate and swinging her body then penduluming back up to the little shitty balcony.
She kept her eyes on Imogen.
“You should run.” She said, like an offering more than a concern and then she smiled, a curious little thing.
Something too wide and odd and bright and… beautiful.
The voices caught up to her and she glanced their way, then back to the mysterious new figure and winked.
“Nah, they should.”
She shrugged off her pack, rolling her shoulders back and shifting the hammer in her hand.
“Alright numbskulls.” The storm cloud rumbled above like a drumroll. She felt the static as all her hairs stood on end the moment before it arrived. “Let’s rage.”
And then the lightning struck, violet and violent, down into Imogen.
She held up her hammer like a channeling rod and felt the moment the light hit her skin and the energy sizzled through her.
It stung more than hurt, but it was an absolute relief to feel the storm absorb into her. Like that pinching migraine was now released and scarring through her. A damn flooding free.
And when the bright light of the strike had abated she saw the goons with a hand up to cover their eyes, now looking completely stunned at who stood before them.
Her olive tank top left all the room to display the red lightning marks running along the planes of her toned shoulders and forearms. Years of hammering horseshoes were to thank for that. The static sizzled in the air around her, trailed up her neck to the edges of her eyes, also bright red, and turned at them.
“Looks like I need to teach you all some manners.”
One of the figures at the back took stock and ran. Smart.
She glanced up at the figure who had paused in her escape, looking at her with those alive eyes and damn… she really liked when they were looking at her. The weight they carried was like a warm blanket.
Right, crushing skulls. Pretty lady after.
And then she swung wide and hard catching the first criminal in their ribs and sending him off his feet into the building.
His friend came in next and she dodged and ducked easily swinging the handle of the hammer up into the underside of one of their jaws and kicking out with her leg after, sending the next to his ass.
This. This was fun.
Two goons behind them came running in with daggers, slashing quick. She felt one graze her knuckles, which felt not great but manageable. The next missed wide, and she was pressing back with the meat of her hammer.
She could take these guys. Though they were many. Keeping track of six enemies at once was simply taxing.
She heard one shuffle behind her and was getting ready to turn when a blur dropped in and the man cried out before going silent once more.
The mysterious hooded figure… looked more mysterious than ever.
She’d jumped down, landing on the man’s shoulders and smashing him back into the ground, head hung as she studied the rest over Imogen’s shoulders.
Eyes… bright before, actually glowing a white misty aura now.
And arms… coated. like someone had drawn strings around them, corded and bound into a fighting stance.
The craziest flicker kept happening over the figures shoulders… like a floating woman pulling her arms into position and puppeting her.
“Let’s even the odds a bit.” She said, springing like a cork out of a bottle and throwing her fists tight and low. Her first opponent collapsed to the ground with one hit, and she delivered a knock out blow, swift and practiced into his neck. He did not stir again.
Damn.
She was impressive.
For arms that didn’t look like they worked a moment ago, they certainly were dealing damage. Practiced blows and thrusts, almost like she’d been trained.
Right, still fighting. Imogen recalled as a dagger sliced against her abdomen and she spun her hammer and smashed it down into her attackers foot.
Together they made quick work of the foes.
One of them the dark friend would spin and kick out at their feet and Imogen would catch them while they stumbled to smash their head against the wall. When one would go high the other instinctually went low.
“Wide.” Imogen called as she swung the hammer around in a sweeping arc and the robed figure leaned all the way back, knees low and torso almost flat against the ground.
Damn. She was fascinating.
Imogen kept thinking that.
She needed this fight to be over so she could get her name.
It was moments later.
A lot of the bodies lying out, bleeding and battered. Being an opportunistic asshole certainly didn’t pay.
Imogen let herself catch her breath a moment, then stilled her breathing, inhaling slow and exhaling slower. Once. Twice. Three times. By the third her lightning scars had closed, her eyes had dulled, and her adrenaline induced physique had quelled to her usual. Still relatively impressive if you asked her.
She turned to the mysterious figure and saw the puppeter behind her dissipate. Saw the white mist float away as she straightened up to stand out of her fighting form.
“That was… very impressive.” She said in that warm accent and Imogen smiled automatically. “You’re quite capable with that thing.”
“Shoot, you trying to make this old farm girl blush?” Imogen said back, wiping some of the blood off her cheek. She wasn’t sure whose it was truly but she had other things on her mind.
Mainly.
“Who are you?”
The figure’s eyes went a little wide and she turned away.
“No one worth remembering. Just a shadow passing through.”
Imogen tsked her tongue.
“I don’t think you’re someone I’ll be easily forgetting. Not after all of that. That was amazing.”
“Might be best if you did.” She took a step retreating and all Imogen could think was she didn’t want her to go.
She went to step forward and winced, looking down at the one lucky hit they’d gotten, slashing down her side.
The robed figure saw too, now stepping closer.
“You were hurt… I’m sorry I didn’t realize.”
She lifted her hand, stiff and numbly and didn’t quite touch Imogen, but did look quite concerned.
“Barely.” Imogen laughed it off.
The hooded shadow was looking, like she was between fleeing and staying, eyes flickering to the group at their feet.
“Here… come with- Let me- I should patch you up.” She said ultimately. “It’s only right… you got hurt helping me.”
And she wanted to tell her it wasn’t a big deal, but she also didn’t want her to leave.
“Lead the way.”
She moved them through the alleys, to another alcove and then gently up a set of stairs to an inset door covered from the incoming rain and far enough from the wandering eyes.
She crouched and Imogen found that she seemed pretty seasoned at scurrying away from sight.
That little scrap must not have been an isolated incident.
“Alright umm…” she gestured for her to join and Imogen crouched before her, gently pulling her shirt back for her to see the slash.
She didn’t miss the way her eyes lingered on her form and smirked internally at what she thought might be a slight blush. Hard to tell in the shadow.
“Can I… I’d like to clean it, but all I have is water and… a balm?”
“That’ll do.” Imogen looked down at the mark. “Didn’t get me too deep.”
The girl nodded and shrugged off her pouch, and when Imogen stopped to think how was this going to work she saw a floating hand summon and unzip the pouch, fishing in and recovering supplies.
“That’s pretty nifty.” She nodded with a smile to her technique and the girl shrugged.
“We make do.”
And the floating Mage Hand set down a mostly empty little vile of balm that she trapped between her feet so the hand could get leverage to unscrew it, then shifted the hand up to her side and applied two fingers of the balm to a little pad above the wound. Then the hand dissipated and reappeared by her water skin, flicking the lid off and lifting it to run down the side of the wound, cleaning the blood.
“You a magic user?” Imogen asked, trying to glean more about this new individual. She shook her head adamantly no, almost amused.
“No, no, wouldn’t that be something. They’d probably call me a witch or a hag if I had any sorts of those powers.”
“What do they call you now?”
“A nuisance mostly. A plight on their land. A curse, a hex, a bastard, an ill omen. Quite a few things actually.”
“What do your friends call you?”
“I haven’t any friends.”
Imogen looked down and saw the magic hand floating, running over the ends of the balm and smearing gently over the ends of the washed wound.
She tensed a breath and the girl leaned a bit closer studying it.
“Hurts?”
But Imogen shook her head. “No no, just cold. Wasn’t expecting it.”
The girl nodded and withdrew the hand as quick as was polite, then fished out a bandage and thread.
“Do you… I could stitch you up? I wouldn’t want you to bleed after coming to my aide.”
Imogen studied the wound and shrugged. The rain was coming down harder now, she didn’t mind being here in the cover with this enchanting enigma of a woman.
“If you think it’ll help.”
She nodded and leaned closer, studying the wound clinically and Imogen was patient until she couldn’t be. It didn’t help that she couldn’t see her eyes. Just feel their chilling, exciting presence.
“Can I?” Imogen asked, not sure why it mattered so much, but knowing it did. She was easily the most interesting and genuine person she’d met in sometime, and if she couldn’t have a name she wanted an image instead.
The girls eyes stalled like she was a deer caught in the woods as she saw Imogen raise a hand up near the side of her hood.
Her eyes darted back and forth between Imogen’s gaze and her hand, but Imogen didn’t move either forward or back until she got a response. She’d respect it either way, but… she really really wanted to know.
Finally there was a sigh and a nod, and she tensed herself as if for rejection, so Imogen nodded her thanks and slowly pulled the hood back to reveal the woman’s features.
In a word? Stunning.
She was all soft white skin like fresh powdered snow. Which only made her dark eyes and hair contrast all the more. There was such worry there, but… kindness. This light Imogen couldn’t explain but it was just a spark. One of the brightest she’d ever seen.
“Wow… hi.” Imogen said, feeling a slight blush, and seeing a similar one on the girls pale cheeks. Purple almost. She tilted her head away and Imogen caught the sight of something that made her furrow her brow. Her ears were cut. Messy slashes that took away what would have been the natural rounded lines. Healed over… wrong, with spongey skin clotted along the seam.
“You’re an Undead, aren’t you?” Imogen asked, finally connecting that element of her otherworldly beauty. The girl nodded again, hanging her head further now so that the dark hair blocked her face.
“Do you wish for me to go…?”
“Why would I wish that?” Imogen said, confused. “You just trusted me with something great.”
She looked up at her curious behind the curtain of her hair, like a bird wondering if it should come closer to accept the breadcrumbs.
“Most people… don’t wish to associate with Undead…”
Imogen shrugged. “Most people can’t summon lightning, but you haven’t seemed bothered by it.”
Her eyes shone a little at the mention and a smile curled at the barest corner of her lips.
“I thought it was rather magnificent actually.”
Warmth bloomed in her chest. Like a little cat sprawling out on a sunny spot.
“Always with the compliments.”
“You just keep deserving them.” She smiled to herself, then the floating hand appeared again holding a threaded needled. “Would you like me to…”
“Go for it.” Imogen nodded, barely feeling the pricks as the balm had numbed it a bit and she moved with an expertise through each of the stitches.
“Done this before?” Imogen commented as she neared the end and the no longer hooded figure chuckled once.
“Could say that. Could say I’ve had plenty of practice.”
As she finished the last one the rain started thinning and the spectral hand retreated.
She wanted to ask her a million questions as she realized their time together was coming to an end. Things you absolutely could not ask a stranger.
The one that slipped out was,
“Can I buy you a drink?”
And the girl blinked at her stunned now, like the words hadn’t computed.
“Coffee, beer, water, anything. Just… stay for lunch?”
And the girl scanned her as if she’d be able to detect another motive but Imogen knew she’d find none. She was just… drawn to her.
“Alright.”
Now twentyish minutes later, with her new friend’s hood back up in place they wandered up to a small pub and took the patio seating in the back. With the rain just having broken there was no one really there, so they were able to order soup and bread and an ale each with little fanfare.
“I’ve got this.” Imogen said, noticing the spectral hand messing with a small handful of copper pieces under the table.
“I- I couldn’t possibly impose like that.”
Imogen chuckled, it was cute how much she worried about it.
“Don’t sweat it. I owe you for patching me up anyway.” She nodded her eyes toward the still torn and slightly red line on her shirt.
The shadowed friend hunched.
“But you were only injured trying to protect me. Hardly feels like a debt I have paid you.”
“I don’t like debts.” Imogen said, nodding her thanks to the Orc bartender that came back with their food and drink. “And it wasn’t your fault I got this little scrape, no one forced me into that alley besides me.”
The girl seemed to consider this and eventually gave a nod. After checking there was no one nearby she summoned her spectral hand to pick up the spoon.
“Well… thank you then. You have shown me great kindness today…”
“Imogen.” She filled in, taking up her stein and nodding. “Imogen Temult from Gelvaan.”
“Gelvaan… that doesn’t sound very close to here.” The girl tilted her head curiously.
“You’d be correct. It’s not. Almost a year of travel has brought me this far away from it. I just… couldn’t stay once all this lightning shit happened.”
The girl nodded.
“Couldn’t because of others? Or because of yourself?”
The way she asked it was insightful.
“Myself mostly. There were some odd looks and whispers and rumors, sure. But mostly… I just needed to get the hell out if I was ever going to find answers about what was happening to me.”
“And have you?” The girl asked.
Imogen smirked.
“Not as many as I’d like. Turns out there’s no set place to uncover all your own mysteries. I think there’s something to do with my mother, but I also think it might have to do with the Stromlord.”
“A hand from divinity?”
“Maybe… sometimes I feel like I hear their voices… my mom’s in my dreams, and this other deeper voice when I’m awake.”
The girl seemed to consider.
“You know… not far from here is a temple to the Stormlord. Have you ever visited one?”
Imogen paused, still holding the stein to her lips.
“I hadn’t found any on my travels. To be fair, started very far from cities, and a lot of the smaller towns had more Dawnfather and Everlight temples.”
Imogen felt a little buzz of excitement.
“That’s… amazing though. You said not far, how not far?”
Her companion smiled and tilted her head to the northeast.
“Probably… two days travel on cart? Little longer on foot? Maybe a week?”
“Could you show me where?” Imogen asked next, and saw the girl stiffen, the spectral hand flickering for a moment.
“I could write down a little map? And instructions if that’s what you mean.”
“And could you come with me?” Imogen leaned closer on her elbows. “If I asked?”
The girl paused. Spectral hand disappearing and spoon clattering into the bowl.
“Would you really ask that?” She said quieter.
“I sort of am.” Imogen smiled, hoping it was charming and non-threatening. The girl had every right to refuse her. She just really hoped she wouldn’t. “I like your moxie, feel like I can trust you enough for a short trip after what I’ve seen today. And could really use the lead.”
“You’d trust me? Even after… what you’ve seen?”
“Yup. Even more if you’d finally tell me your name.” Imogen said with a little wink.
“About that…” her new friend said, tilting her head further down. Her foot was fidgeting and Imogen got the idea she might run.
“Wow you really don’t want to tell me.” Imogen leaned closer, feeling like this was a game she was missing. “Why is that?”
“Because…” The shadowed girl paused.
“Becauseeeee….” Imogen goaded.
Her new friend leaned back in her seat, sighing in defeat.
“Because… I don’t remember it.” She smiled wryly.
“Bullshit.” Imogen laughed. Thinking this was still a joke. But she read her expression, the set of her jaw and surrender in her eyes. “Seriously?”
“You are the first person who has asked for it in… I don’t even know how long. I don’t know how to quantify the days and hours and minutes it’s been of not having an identity. I am of a place I can not return to, I am a creature unnaturally bound here, I am host to an unwelcome guest and… I am not even a me. For I have no name.”
Imogen stalled. Wow, okay this was far deeper than she’d understood.
“How’s that happen?” She asked gentler. Looking down at her bound arms.
“I have been dead for 30ish years I think? I stopped keeping track. And I haven’t had to say my name in all of that time. I barely even have to think it.” She shrugged. “And have you heard the old parable ‘if you don’t use it you lose it?’ Turned out to be very literal for me.”
Wow.
She really was fascinating. And there was this loneliness… that seemed to have permeated her but not destroyed her.
And damn did Imogen want to destroy it.
“Well I’ll need to call you something.” Imogen said after a few moments of thought. “If we’re gonna be traveling together.”
She shrugged, hunching her shoulders again.
“It doesn’t really matter what.”
“No I think it does. And I think you should pick it.”
And the girl seemed to think.
“But I really don’t remember it…”
“How about an initial?” Imogen said. “Something for now. Doesn’t have to be forever.”
“Just a letter?”
“Sure. Any at all you can remember or just one you like the sound of.”
And she looked up now, spectral hand coming out and drawing a few letters in the air.
Her body language changed. There was a borderline joy there that made Imogen smile and just take in the sight.
“Okay…” she said, after a few moments of this.
“Okay?” Imogen asked.
She nodded, and when she turned and looked at her Imogen realized for the first time… her mind hadn’t hurt at all. There’d been no high pitch frequency the entire time she’d been around her… just peace. Like reeds in a lake, swaying with the breeze.
“I think… I think my name had an L. And I enjoy the angle of writing it… so for now…”
“L?” Imogen asked, catching the girls infectious enthusiasm.
She nodded.
“L it is. Happy to have you aboard.”
And L smiled the widest little grin Imogen had ever seen.