|Summary:||Handing over the sweetsleep, Jacsen and Avinashi share words of parting, and leave more unsaid.|
|Related Logs:||Plot to kill poison Maron, culminating in To Be Remembered.|
|Terrick's Roost Store Room|
|One of the store rooms in Four Eagles Tower.|
There are few places of late one can find much privacy in the Roost, though it is the fortune of the Young Lord to be amongst the few that can command it, without raising serious questions as to his reasons. The store room is small, though it's been widened as the sacks of dry goods are depleted in an effort to feed all the hungry mouths the tower needs serve. Jacsen is seated upon a barrel, wearing an expression he had on his face when he dismissed the pair of commoners-turned-soldiers he'd accompanied here. They assumed it was the pain that made him so, and reasonable enough given his parting instruction to find Mistress Avinashi Ruhi and send her to him. Even those unfamiliar with Jacsen have begun to recognize the Dornish-looking woman as a skilled healer.
She is summoned and so she comes, drifting into the storeroom, dressed in her simple silks, her gaze settling on Jacsen. As she moves to seat herself before here, there is something attentive and expectant in that regard. A question present if, as yet, unasked.
Jacsen's eyes follow Avinashi as she makes her way into the storeroom, the ghost of a smile warming his mouth. "I spoke with the Maester," he explains, as she sits. "He's stubborn, but as expected…" He reaches into his coat and withdraws a small velvet-wrapped bundle. "I trust this will be enough."
"He is doing what he feels is best," Avinashi says, reaching out to accept the little package with a warm smile and peering within. She studies it for a moment before she nods. "I shall make it work, my lord. Thank you."
He lets out a quiet breath when she takes the vials, and his shoulders sag forward a touch, as if he'd released a great weight he was until now holding fast. "I know you shall, Avinashi," Jacsen agrees, nodding quietly.
She studies Jacsen for a long moment, tucking the sweetsleep into a pocket in her silks. "My lord, I wish very much to be successful and to return to you. But… should that not be, I wish you to know, it has been my honor and my pleasure to serve as your food taster."
"I could not have imagined, that day you unexpectedly showed up at the gates of Seaguard…" Jacsen begins, shaking his head as he searches the woman's features. "There's so much more I want to say, Ashi," he confesses, softer, with an expression that is equal parts tender and regretful. "That I want to know." Perhaps he realizes it is not the tone he wishes to strike, or it was his intention all the while, but when he looks back up it is with resolve. "So you /will/ return. I'll not accept any less."
It's an impossible promise, of course, and they must both know it. Still, Avinashi dips her head, her gaze lowering. "Yes, my lord," she concedes, soft and gentle.
She can read him as well as anyone, to see that he knows that, but he wishes to hold to that all the same. Lest he lose his resolve to let her go in the first place. "If you should not," Jacsen asks, quieter, after a moment of silence. "Is there anything you would have me do?"
"Speak well of me," is Avinashi's soft answer, "and keep my secrets, my lord."
He nods quick and sure at that. "I will, Ashi. You've my word."
She studies Jacsen a long moment more before drawing a soft breath. Then, with a tiny nod, she stands to move away and begin her preparations.
Jacsen uses his cane to help push up to his feet as she rises, and before she can turn or go too far he calls her name, "Ashi?"
Which stops her, of course causing the dornish woman to twist and peer over her shoulder. "My lord?"
His cane sounds against the floor as he closes the few steps left between them, reaching to wordlessly touch Avinashi's cheek, a faint smile warming his mouth.
A soft smile on Avinashi's own lips answers it as her hand lifts to settle over his. And so they stand, in silence, for a long moment.
"Come back to me," Jacsen asks her, his voice heavy with things left unsaid. His thumb is gentle as it strokes her soft cheek, and for all that he seems prepared to let her go, he's not the one who will first break this parting.
Avinashi swallows and tries another smile, though this one wavers a little. "I shall, my lord," she promises again. Just as impossible, but low and fervent. And then she is the one to break the contact, turning and hurrying from the room faster than his mangled leg might carry him.