01.

[shri]

FORM: Sending crystal.
SENDER: Lakshmi Bai
RECIPIENT: Anyone and everyone.
WHAT: Polite requests.
WHEN: After the recent group of rifters arrives back.
WHERE: The Gallows.
NOTES: Tired Queen is tired.

[ There's a little laugh of wonder and then - ] To think I spent all my time hungering after Tesla's machines... [ Clears her throat with the end of that wistful sigh, no time for what-ifs, and she adopts a far more even a tone. Dry, clipped and careful to not muddle her words. Not Tesla's machines, no, but she has heard plenty of poor announcements across radios, to want to make sure that she doesn't do the same. ]

Greetings. I am... Rani Lakshmibai, the, ah.. widower of the King, Maharaja, of Jhansi. [ There's a hesitation, unsure. But like the titles she just gave, she brushes over it quickly. ] I have a request for an individual, who would spend a few hours telling me of this place and its manners, so I might be a better guest of this... Inquisition. I have no more than what I am to receive you, but I can provide honest company in return for yours.

[ pause, and then a moment later. ] And where may I exchange jewels and gold for coin, find a decent cloth merchant and tailor, and whether the weapons the armies here supply are worth the metal they're made from. I prefer a shamsher or talwar, by preference, but any long, heavy blade suffices if its decent enough quality.

Comments

[shri]

[ She damn near pulls on a blade on her.

Or rather, there is no near. The long, filigreed blade is in her hand before brain catches up with the mind, catches up with the soft-spoken word of greeting. Queen Lady. The slick of metal is an inch free before her breath comes back into her chest.

A breath she lets back out, pushing it back to the hilt. Easing herself back as quickly as she rose to a stiff stock attention. ] My Lady. I would request you do not do that again.

[ She at least had the comfort of being in an open space to ease this from something worse. Open, sky, men - things like men - no stink of London's streets, no roll of fog. Not the wet stench of dog fur and blood.

Her assessment of her comes after she centres herself back in this half-mad nightmare of Blackcoat stories. A strange and wretched creature in front of her, that if this were England she would assume she was a factory girl from the scars, the strange skirting nature. The bad manners and the general messy state said, poor-house worker.

But far, far stranger than any of that. Oh dear, what do I have here? ]

[strangel]

( Helena grins at the sound of the dagger - faint, but she is one used to listening for sounds of attack. As she descends from the crate, the movement is almost feline, hands moving down first, hair a halo of pale blonde (brittle, unnatural) that obscures her face a little. She keeps the chicken (with the knife sticking out of it) held between her teeth, and then rips it away once she is on the ground, chewing open mouthed as she looks up at the woman.

The scars on her backs, what can be seen of them, might be akin to the top of angelic wings. )

Little knives are not scaring me.

( And now she finally stands. She is not particularly tall or short, but as she moves a passerby veers away from her instinctually, and Helena grins. )

I am Helena. What would you like to be seeing?

[shri]

[ It is not Angels she thinks of - rather, quick and unbidden to a human body with wings is not anything angelic, it will always be of Garuda. Fighting to try and save Ram's beloved.

But her eyes slide over it, as she speaks. Garuda was vanquished by Ravana, cut down, proud as a warrior, he fell as hard as one always did. I hope it ends better for you than great knives were for him. ]

I am glad. I would hate to marr what ought to be pleasant, I hope. [ What to see first - there was much. ] High town. Then low town. If I have their names right?

[strangel]

That is correct. We take boat across to Kirkwall. Docks is connecting to Lowtown, and then we make way to Hightown.

( Of course, whether Helena will be able to get into Hightown is debatable, but maybe today she'll be lucky. Or maybe she'll live her stealthy life, although pickpocketing in Lowtown has less risk and cost. Easier to blend and hide. That doesn't negate that pickpocketing in Hightown would be more fun.

With a jerk of her head towards the boats that will take them across to the docks, Helena begins to walk. This woman wrapped up in golden is interesting, like holy pictures with gold leafs inlaid and rich colours. It makes her seem like something holy; stained glass and saints. )

Is veil for holiness?

[shri]

Privacy. Women in my homeland reserve discretion in showing ourselves. Especially of our hair and face. Such things are for our family, not strangers in the streets.

[ It wasn't strictly as true as all that. Jhansi had never kept purdah as strictly as other states and kingdoms did. But she had reserved the right when faced with utter strangers, those that she could not trust, or sort to humiliate her, to sit being curtains in a lot of her dealings.

There was also her own paranoia - just in case, in all the strangeness of others, she did find herself in the company of an enemy, she would not be as immediately identified as that. ]

[strangel]

( Helena mulls that over for a few moments, head canting very slightly to the side as she turns the thought over, inspects it carefully as one might colourful glass tumbled by the sea, before she nods. It makes sense.

She starts to move down into the boat that will carry them from the Gallows to Kirkwall, balancing easily and moving swiftly as the boat bobs and sways in the water. )

Could be useful, keeping face hidden.

[shri]

[ She keeps her fingers hooked at the end of the fabric that is pulled over her face. Pinched between the second and first finger as her hand curls. The flat of her wrist turned up, her arm tucked in close. ]

Very.

[ She settles to sit in the boat to face her companion. Ignoring very particularly the look she gets - inevitable. ] It allows me discretion just as much.

[strangel]

( As their boat pushes off and begins to cross the harbour, Helena watches the queen intently. Partly she is happy to let her gaze be obvious and unsettling. Reactions are enjoyable, and Lakshmi is hiding the reactions.

Helena will need to be more dramatic. )

Do you not like seeing other people faces?

[shri]

[ And this is exactly why she does it, really. Staying mild as anything in the face (haha) of other people's reactions. ]

Oh, I see just fine.

[ She lifts her other hand to crook a finger, calling her closer. Come on then. ]

[strangel]

( Helena's head cants to the side, and her hands move across the base of the boat, moving like some cave creature, some primate - almost on all fours, the sinew and slink of something feline in it.

Leaning forward, Helena does not hesitate to set aside appropriate distance to peer to the queen intently and make a study of her. Helena's own skin is sallow, unhealthily red, raw, around her eyes. Her hair is dry and fragile, a wild, messy mane that seems to glow as the light shines through it. )

But do you wish you did not? Would you like better if others were covered?

[shri]

[ Lakshmi's own face this close, could be discerned. Warn, old and young all at once. Old eyes as much as more gold than brown, much too old for her face, set in the deep line of black kohl around them. The dot of the bindi between her brows. The pull of a mouth that might have smiled so quickly once. A broadness, an easiness in herself. A little too blunt to be strictly handsome like a woman might like, but striking enough to make up for it, and content in that. Like she knew each limb and digit exactly as much as her own. Sated in that knowledge as she blinks at her behind the soft linen that took away the sharpness of her own gaze.

She does not pull away from the inspection and she offers no remorse for it, she takes in as she is taken in. She looks over this half-starved wild thing in front of her with stillness. The faint clink of bangles echoing softly as the boat rocked. Faint as bells against the lull of waves, the splash of water against the side of the boat as it was rowed. ]

I care little, how people dress is their own business. Just as I am my own business, and not theirs.

[ A weight to the words, and warning. She does not mind questions, but press too hard, little one, and she will bite back. ] We all wear masks. Orleasians wear feathers on theirs, and my own people use silks. There is little difference to me.

[strangel]

( Her fingers reach out, instinctive, to brush the bangles. Her eyes are hazel, surprisingly warm despite the wild terrain surrounding them. Everything about her speaks to wildness, the spidering fingers and the batlike curl of her shoulders.

Helena's smile is slow, and dance s the line between childlike wonder and impishly dangerous. )

And many people wear smiles.

( As her smile widen it seems more like the baring of teeth. ) Smiles and niceness and lies.

[shri]

[ She lets her, passively so, deceptively so. The gold means little weight, but everything in her heart of a mother-in-law who blessed her every day and showered her in gifts. ]

They do. It is why I have ever preferred my battlefields, and to take what shielding I may from their deceits.

[ In the civilised world, she cannot just strike down those who would mean to hurt her. But that does not mean she should not protect herself through other means. Gangadhar had taught her that. There could be as much danger to beauty, softness, and sweetness as there was in the hard edge of a blade. ]

[strangel]

( Huffs out a laugh, and scoots back. The trip is not long, and they are fast nearing Kirkwall proper, moving past the statues of slaves, arms over their heads and bodies tormented. )

Why do you think they made these statues so?

[shri]

[ Her eyes slide over them and the disgust is palatable in her voice. ]

To remind people of their place.

[strangel]

( A little snarl, though it is one of agreement, if such a thing is possible. )

Yes. Owning other bodies. Doing with them as they like.

( She makes a grizzly sound, and slinks to the other end of the boat, to wait for their landing in Kirkwall, and knobbly curve of her spine pulling her skin taught. )

I think slave owners, those who break— they should be the one broken.

[shri]

Do you know? I much agree.

[ her tone is nothing less than contempt. Utter disgust over such a notion.

But it's settled for now, as they pull into dock. Rising out of boat to cross over to the jetty in light quick steps. ]

[strangel]

( Helena moves onto the docks on all fours, crouched down low. )

If you are telling truth, perhaps you are good queen.

( A big if. Authority is rarely trustworthy. )

[shri]

I do my best, as only anyone can.

[ Firm, if she was to be respected for herself, it would be by that. By acting, moving, deciding, and refusing to compromise on that which was monstrous.

But to a slightly more pertinent issue - ? ] Do you ... not prefer to stand?

[strangel]

( She holds a hand up to Lakshmi, just a moment, just wait, as Helena slinks backwards into the shadows of a crate. Waits a few moments.

Lunges out to snap at the ankles of a passing merchant who makes a sound of undignified terror, and laughs as he scurries away. Only then does she straighten up, looking at the queen curiously. )

Both good.

[shri]

[ She steps back when prompted, watching - seeing what she was up too with a curious gaze. What on earth?

The merchant goes squealing and she's glad for the veils not for the first time when she laughs. ]

None of that. I am told we have to be on our best behaviour.

[strangel]

( Her smile is very, very innocent. )

This is best.

( Ah, wait: it's not innocent at all. Helena unfolds, straightening up, and begins to lead the way through the docks to lowtown. )

On left, you have Kirkwall. On right, more Kirkwall. Moody people.