#also i will give a cookie to anyone who picks up on the gith pun included in this ficlet XD

[blackjackkent]

Prompt fill for @astreamofstars from this ask meme: Something Rotten Sentence Starters Jaheira - "I make it look easy but honey, believe me, it's hard." I'm doing your requests a little out of order bc this idea popped to mind. XD Set in Rakha's playthrough, directly after this big ficlet post-Gortash reveal.

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Judging by the moon, it is nearing five o’clock in the morning. Exhaustion has greyed out the corners of Jaheira’s vision, but she has not left her post. Rakha still sleeps curled in a ball nearby; she hasn’t stirred, but Jaheira can see the muscles of her shoulders twitching and hear the low, indistinct mumbling from the half-orc’s direction.

Lae’zel’s voice startles her like a gong going off in her ear. “You have not slept, jhe’stik.”

Jaheira’s head jerks up and she has one scimitar half out of its sheath before she fully registers what’s going on. Lae’zel, moving equally by instinct, lashes out one hand, catching Jaheira’s wrist against her bracer to halt the movement.

For a moment the two women look at each other in silence. Then Jaheira laughs softly and slides the sword back into hiding again. “You are a quick one,” she murmurs.

Lae’zel does not smile, nor does she relax. “I have come to relieve you,” she says crisply. “You will need rest if you are to lead us in the morning.”

One of Jaheira’s eyebrows twitches up. “Is that what I am doing?" she asks mildly. "You follow Rakha, do you not?” In spite of Rakha's broken mind, she has always behaved as the leader of the ragtag bunch; certainly Lae'zel always seems to defer to her.

Lae'zel shrugs. “I have watched your movements through the camp. You steady morale. You prevent conflict.” She inclines her head. “The Harpers must be a fighting force of great discipline.”

“Mm. Less so than you would think, more often than not,” Jaheira says, her lips twitching. 

If Lae’zel registers the humor, she ignores it completely. “And Rakha is…” She hesitates. “Troubled,” she finally says, turning to look at Rakha's still, curled-up form on the ground. “The urge which torments her grows stronger. I am not blind to it. Gortash tempts her with… belonging, with certainties. She will need a firm hand’s guidance.”

Jaheira tips her head back against the tree behind her to examine the young gith thoughtfully. “And I mean to do my best to give her one," she says after a moment's pause. "Though you should not discount your own worth in that regard. You provide it for her as well; you must, for you traveled together many weeks without my aid.” 

Lae’zel flinches from the words as if they pain her. “She does not hear me,” she mutters. “Not as she once did. The more allies we gain, the less my words reach her.”

A slight smile, edged with sympathy, touches Jaheira’s lips. “A difficult thing when you care for her.”

Lae’zel stiffens, scowling. “T’rac’shka ahrit,” she mutters. “Jhe’mak pirrit y’chk yank m’renna. The matter at hand is the good of the troop. It is a child who places sentiment above survival.”

“Mm. And you are no child.” Jaheira looks at her steadily.

A long silence. Lae’zel’s eyes narrow and she looks away. “Perhaps not. But I have been declared hshar’lak by my goddess. The prince of the Comet lies beyond my reach. The way ahead is… unclear.”

It’s an exquisitely subtle plea for help. Jaheira can hear the muted desperation in it. Please, she is saying, in the language of emotional reserve and inhibition that both of them speak fluently. Please… I don’t know what to do.

Jaheira exhales through her nose. Neither do I, she thinks ruefully. But she cannot say it aloud. The past few hours have shown all too clearly that the morale and cohesion of this group is strained and tense, ready to snap. Whatever her own reservations, Jaheira cannot risk unsettling it further.

Gathering up the ragged edges of her strength, she sits up straighter and meets Lae’zel’s eyes directly. “In the morning we will seek the aid of my Harpers,” she says firmly. “And then we will go into the Lower City.”

It’s not much of a plan, but it doesn’t really have to be; Lae’zel visibly relaxes at the direct, matter-of-fact instruction, at having orders to obey. Her bearing straightens and she gives a sharp nod. “Yes,” she agrees. Taking a step back, she pivots her body slightly and then sits down on a nearby rock, fixing her eyes again on Rakha's body. “So - I relieve you. I will take the watch.”

Jaheira chuckles softly. “There is no shaking you off, is there?” she says. But Lae’zel is right, of course. She must sleep, even if only for an hour or two, if she is to be of any use to the rest of them. 

And that is, after all, what matters most.