At first she wasn't sure what had happened. His lips were upon her before she could even think; before she could so much as breathe. And Gods was it a kiss. It enveloped her as much, if not more, than his arms that pulled her close. She drowned in him.
Then her world lurched and she stumbled as the floor shifted beneath her feet and she slammed into the wall of a wooden room just as Opus fell in a bloody heap before her.
The events that followed were a blur. Nothing felt real. A kiss and then blood. Blood and then a kiss. She couldn't recall if she called for help, or cried out, or just fell to her knees and scooped Opus into her lap, but there were hands on her shoulders pulling her away from him. She struggled, of that she was sure, and they spoke to her softly about "handling it" or "calm down" or "it's ok" but it didn't look like everything would be fine. People did not bleed the way Opus was bleeding and just be fine.
Then she was practically dragged from the room as the people worked to save nin vrae. Dragged up a short flight of stairs and into blinding sunlight. Her eyes rushed to adjust and she sneezed and then....laughter.
They wouldn't let her see him at first. Before anything she was put in a small room and forced to change out of bloody clothes for the second time this day. She remembered being told to be thorough for reasons she didn't understand at the time, and was provided a small pile of exquisitely tailored clothes that were all, inexplicably, her size. Even the dresses were the correct length. They were the clothes of someone who wanted pieces to last.
She tried to leave a few times and was pushed back in and instructed that she needed to be even more thorough. By the time she was finished, practically all of the brown had rinsed from her hair and her skin was flush from scrubbing, but she was finally suitable enough for...whatever it was.
It turned out to be a very good reason, but at the time all she wanted was to see Opus. To make sure he was ok. To offer any assistance she could. To just hold his damned hand.
Afterwards, her own injured hand was thoroughly cleaned and tightly bandaged before she was allowed to meet Dao.
Oh Dao...the man who had laughed at her distress...the man who wasn't even really a man anymore and was the reason for all of the meticulous cleaning forced upon her. She couldn't describe Dao. He was...Dao...but she quickly learned that she liked him.
Days passed. She was eventually allowed to sit with Opus, but he wasn't waking up and she couldn't exist by his bedside forever. So she began to explore. At first people gave her some distance, offering only necessities as needed.
But then she found herself lonely and did the only thing she felt truly good at - she played. There was a small harp and a lute with her things and it didn't take long for her songs to attract the crew. Between her own impressive abilities and the illusions that cascaded from the skies, she began breaking down the walls that being a guest of Opus Dey had been thrust around her. By the end of the first week, they began to request favorites -sometimes raunchy tavern songs, sometimes soft lullabies, and Saoirsa played until her fears lessened for a time.
At night, she spent her time on deck while the rest slept. It had been so long since she let moonlight wash over her and she would stand for hours at the rail staring at the waves and the starlight. The ship was magical. Pure and complete magic. Never in her long years had she experienced something like it before and it filled her with untold amounts of pure joy. What the crew thought of her standing there, she didn't know, but she was a sight to behold. When the moon grew full, her skin radiated light like gentle wafts of smoke lifting from her body and the intricate tattoos across her shoulders became the brightest silver. Of course, any and all moonlight triggered these changes, but the full moon made her seem almost ghostly.
And that was where she stood, in the glow of the full moon, two weeks after Opus fell bringing them to the ship, just watching the horizon. Waiting.
