#sorry this took 1321541234 years lol

[blackjackkent]

Ask prompt fill for @thedarkstrategist for this ask meme: Major Arcana Tarot Prompts Shadowzel - The Lovers (Love, harmony, relationships, values alignment, choices) This one got away from me a little. D: Kind of drifted from the prompt and fought me a little and goes all over. XD So it's a bit more fluffy and rambly than I intended. But I hope you enjoy; ty for the prompt, friend!

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It is a battle for the ages. Lae'zel grips one end of the length of rope in each hand, her fingers white-knuckled with the intensity of her grip. Scratch has his teeth sunk firmly into the rope's center and flings his weight back on his haunches, pulling and pulling with all his might. 

“Careful, Lae’zel, I think he’s getting the upper hand,” Shadowheart says, leaning against a nearby fencepost and grinning.

Hearing her voice, Scratch rolls his eyes back in his head to look at her and yips softly, muffled around his mouthful of rope. 

“Chk,” Lae'zel says crisply. “It is an even match. Do you think I cannot best a dog in a trial of strength?”

“Oh, I see,” Shadowheart says with exaggerated seriousness, raising one eyebrow. “You’re allowing him to win, then.”

“It is a matter of protocol,” Lae'zel says stiffly, shooting her a fierce look. “A beast of war must taste of victory, to whet the edge of his hunger.” Scratch gives a great heave on the rope and she quicksteps forward with a grunt to regain her balance. “Any child of Gith would tell you the same.”

Shadowheart chuckles softly. In spite of the teasing, her smile is cautiously gentle. It's a soft night, for once; the scars of the Shadowfell still burn in the back of her mind, as does the fear of what lies ahead, but here on the edge of Rivington, the night air is sweet and filled with the low hum of insects. And there's a strange ache in her chest that she doesn't have any name for, watching Lae'zel wrestle with the dog, and the owlbear cub running circles around the pair with eager hoots. 

“Do you have dogs among the githyanki?” she asks curiously. 

Lae'zel's eyes narrow in focus as she pivots sideways, pulling Scratch along with her. “They are called kaoulgrim,” she says curtly - though Shadowheart can discern the hint of pride in her voice that rises when she speaks of her people. “Purpose-bred for battle. Some grow nearly to the size of Halsin in his bear form. In Creche Kliir, we kept a full contingent of warhounds, and it was considered a great honor to be assigned to their care. I myself held the post three times.”

“No wonder you and Scratch get on so well, then.” Shadowheart fidgets absently with a loose splinter of wood on the fence. “I had a dog once, I think. I must have done. Not in the cloister,” she clarifies hastily. “I think we had guard dogs, at times - but I was never allowed to go near them. But it feels natural - petting Scratch and giving him his bones and throwing the ball, and now I know there was a life I had, before Shar, before the darkness…” She rubs her thumb against the mark on the back of her hand. “I wish I could remember…” 

She trails off, then shakes herself, pushing the thought aside with deliberate effort. “Did you have names for them? Your kaoulgrim?” 

With a great burst of strength, Lae'zel hoists the rope upward, lifting Scratch (tail wagging furiously) onto his hind legs. “Tsk'va,” she says sharply. “They were not pets, no more than your Sharran dogs.”

Shadowheart lifts one eyebrow, watching appreciatively as Lae'zel's lithe muscles flex and twist to hold Scratch’s weight up. “That isn’t what I asked,” she points out.

Lae'zel rolls her eyes, lowering the dog back to the ground. “There were a few which I knew best, yes,” she admits grudgingly. “The largest I called Ir'mlar. ‘Crafter of Pain.’ He was our finest fighter among the kaoulgrim.”

“Crafter of Pain. That's what passes for a gith pet name, is it?” Shadowheart can't help a soft laugh. 

Lae'zel raises one eyebrow at her. “Indeed - zhak vo'n'ash duj.”

“Hm. Point taken.”

Scratch gives a low, eager whine and shakes his head rapidly back and forth, jerking Lae'zel's arm up and down in the process. Lae'zel, though, barely seems to notice - her attention is suddenly elsewhere, distant, back in the rock-hewn corridors of Stardock. “Ir’mlar was a fine dog. Well-trained. A pack leader; the others followed his example.”

“A good boy?” Shadowheart asks.

If Lae’zel registers the muted amusement in the question, she doesn’t respond to it. “Yes,” she says absently. “It was… a comfort to find him, after a day of training.”

Scratch’s ears perk up and he gives a muffled bark, yanking the rope and dropping his forelegs downwards so his wagging tail sticks up behind him. The barest hint of a smile tugs the corner of Lae’zel’s mouth. “Hm. Yes - like you,” she says.

She releases the rope ends. Immediately Scratch darts off with his prize in his mouth, barking excitedly with Buddy chasing at his heels; the two women are left alone in the corner of the abandoned paddock.

“Well fought,” Shadowheart says with a slight smile. 

Lae'zel makes a soft chuckling noise low in her throat. After a moment's pause, she moves to stand next to Shadowheart at the fence. Shadowheart's heart gives a brief little flip-flop as the gith's hand comes to rest - automatically, naturally - on her thigh. “It troubles me to think of the hounds,” she mutters. “I… cannot say why.”

“I suppose gith are no more immune to homesickness than the rest of us,” Shadowheart says quietly.

“Mm.” Lae'zel lets out a long, slow breath. “Do not mistake me. I do not wish to return. Nothing remains for me in Vlaakith's service.”

“Nor for me in the cloister,” Shadowheart murmurs. “But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.”

“Yes.” Lae'zel grips Shadowheart's hand with sudden ferocity, the clawed tips of her fingers digging in just above the stinging Sharran scar. There are a thousand words in that quick, fierce touch - the offering of reassurance and the clinging need for it, both at once. But, perhaps unsurprisingly, she speaks none of it aloud, instead turning her eyes away to watch Scratch rolling on his back in the dirt. 

“He is a fine hound,” she says gruffly. “He would make a poor fit for the stables of Kliir… but a fine hound nevertheless.”

Shadowheart chuckles. “Perhaps next time you'll even win the tug-of-war.”

“Chk,” Lae'zel says, rolling her eyes but making no effort to hide her amusement. “Peace, kainyank.”