Written Wonderland

Mizu swallowed her embarrassment quickly and turned her head back toward Lance just in time to see another wild grin that almost brought her laughter back. It was almost conspiratorial as he said, "D'you want to practice, then?"

The commander was grateful for the dark as heat flooded her face. Had Lance anticipated her earlier train of thought? Was he coming to the same absurd conclusions that, inadvertently, she had orchestrated the goddess' display and the resulting consequences? Was he really asking her to... with him?

She wasn't sure she wanted to outright say no.

But, then she took a step back, imagining instead the two of them piously on their knees, saying some words or others that might please the gods. It was an even more uncomfortable thought.

Lance brought her attention back to the first possibility, however, with his faltering smile and his stuttering about how they didn't necessarily have to worship Dehaljadrun together. Some part of Mizu was disappointed that he was walking back his suggestion, but she wasn't about to make that plain.

She scrambled to pull thoughts together, but before she could, Lance got suddenly to his feet and raised his hands to the heavens. She was prepared for him to begin some strange religious practice right then and there, but instead he only talked about having previously enjoyed worshipping the sky.

With a shrug, though, Lance finished by saying, "The sky's been here the whole time, whether I danced for her or not."

He looked at the sky as though the stars might suddenly start speaking back, and Mizu sighed audibly, deciding to ignore Lance's initial question. He, after all, had already moved in.

"I've spoken directly with the goddess. Or, as direct as one might get without a summoning," Mizu said, wondering if she, too, should stand, but she was comfortable and decided against it. Staring up at the stars, she continued.

"She had motivations and wanted to make them clear to me. She was relatively concise and direct. Other than the fact that she was speaking through one of the attacked men's bodies, there was nothing superhuman about her."

Mizu paused for a moment but then continued.

"She did make the shimmer happen, though. Of that I'm certain." Mizu thought about telling Lance it had been Mizu's idea, but she worried about the conclusions he might come to if she did.

"She wants company, wants respect. I get the feeling she's not all that different than we are. Just... more volatile. More powerful."

Mizu took a breath and then said quietly, "and that's what scares me."

She pushed back the flood of worries about how aggressive the goddess might become after their new nation was established, how demanding and coercive she might be. There would be time to sort all that out later, surely.

"I imagine that even the gods can worship and feel awe."

She left it at that, certain that Lance would have a thousand questions about her meeting with the goddess but having no sense of urgency about that herself.

"I've spoken directly with the goddess," Mizu said, and Lance blinked back to her with wide, curious eyes.

"Or, as direct as one might get without a summoning," she continued, and Lance lowered himself to sit next to her again, cross-legged and leaning forward slightly with quiet interest as Mizu painted the picture of what happened: one of the men who had been attacked, speaking with the commander, but it was actually the goddess speaking through him... he supposed that made sense. Insofar as any of this made sense.

"She did make the shimmer happen, though," Mizu went on, "of that I'm certain. She wants company, wants respect. I get the feeling she's not all that different than we are. Just... more volatile. More powerful. ...and that's what scares me. I imagine that even the gods can worship and feel awe."

Lance chewed awkwardly on his cheek, fidgeting in place as he tried to wrap his mind around what she was saying. There was a strong buzz of nervousness in his chest, and his eyes drifted off into the dark moonlit grass. Somehow, it wasn't comforting to think of the gods as not all that different from them. He supposed, he was getting a bit stuck on one particular word--respect. Lance was notoriously not particularly respectful. Was there just... a switch he could somehow flip in his brain? He wasn't so sure.

Lance brought his gaze back to Mizu, his eyes re-lit with a freshly nervous curiosity. Was he being respectful to her? Well, he hadn't been when he'd sheathed his sword before, and she'd called him on it. Was he being respectful since then, though? He thought so... but surely the goddess of dreams and desire didn't want to just stargaze and chat?

With a heavy sigh, Lance flopped down onto his back, arms sprawled in the grass above him as he returned his gaze to the stars. He felt like he was just going in circles, and he was starting to feel pretty demoralized about it again.

Mizu appreciated that Lance sat down and was attentive to her as she spoke, but there was a falling sensation in her chest when Lance heaved a sigh and flopped unceremoniously back on the ground.

What were they doing here? Mizu was neither helping him figure out what his offering would be nor keeping his mind off what would happen tomorrow night.

She turned her body to the side and lifted her head onto her elbow. Trying not to think too hard and reassuring herself that this was Lance and not Lieutenant Holloway, Mizu reached out and lay a hand across Lance's nearest bicep.

"You don't need to have it all figured out before you go. The offering... it's a additional gesture. She's going to want you."

Mizu looked down at the ground, then, her thoughts carrying on, ...I certainly would want you.

And why was that? Lance was a braggart who craved attention and... she couldn't stop thinking about the way he had earlier gazed at the sky. Mizu wished she hadn't interrupted him. Maybe he really would have danced for the sky. For her.

The thought was thrilling, but getting back to that place now, here, in the middle of the sparring field, felt unlikely.

Mizu withdrew her hand then but looked up, hoping to meet Lance's eyes and convey some small sense of what she hoped for.

Lance heard Mizu stir in the grass beside him, but he swallowed and stubbornly kept his gaze on the sky. He was starting to even feel queasy about having initiated this interaction in the first place. Call me Lance, then. What was that?

But then Mizu touched his arm, and a fresh swarm of fluttering lifted his chest.

"You don't need to have it all figured out before you go," she said. "The offering... it's a additional gesture. She's going to want you."

Lance turned his head just enough to look at Mizu with wide, uncertain eyes. He was somewhat awkwardly grateful that her own gaze was turned down to the ground, and he swallowed nervously as he turned his attention back towards the sky, heartbeat ringing in his ears. Mizu didn't really seem the touchy-feely sort--but, then again, maybe that was just Commander Miyamoto. Still, what should he make of the hand on his bicep? The muscle wanted to flex, but Lance willed it to stay slack, almost like he was playing dead. Which, surely, was absurd, but--

Mizu cut off his train of thought by withdrawing her hand, leaving Lance's arm feeling strangely bare and freshly aware of the night's chill. A slight shiver rippled down his arms and his back, forcing an awkward smile onto Lance's face as he instinctively turned to face Mizu again, maybe sensing her gaze returning to him, or maybe just altogether too curious about what sort of state she was withdrawing to. There was definitely some kind of hope in her eyes, which sent a fresh thrill splashing through Lance's gut. But, for what? Swallowing, he returned his gaze once again to the sky, a little too overwhelmed to keep track of Mizu's expression for the moment.

"All right then," he said, his calm but sheepish smile fully open to the stars in the sky. "Maybe I won't figure it out tonight." He exhaled softly afterwards, ultimately an understated sigh of relief as he genuinely let that go for now. Oh, some nervousness still bubbled at the base of his spine about it, but the rest of him relaxed and opened, finally allowing himself to feel fully supported by the ground beneath him, and to genuinely ask himself, what next, then?

He thought again to his usual sparring partner hook-up, idly curious if she would have already turned in for the night. And, he recalled the way that Mizu had eyed him before they made their way down into the grass in the moonlight. But, she hadn't liked him being overt--at least, not before they'd set their ranks aside. Would it be absurd to try again? Was that even what he wanted?

Lance rolled his head back to the side to look at Mizu, wanting to genuinely take in what sight of her the moon and stars would offer. Where had that hand gone that had touched his arm? What was her expression like? How was her body laying against the grass? What had that look of hope been in her eyes? Why was she indulging him in this strange meeting-anew-but-not conversation? His eyes were more narrow than usual, astute with curiosity and observation as he took in the sight of her, undeterred by wherever her own gaze might land.

Having withdrawn her hand, she brought it in front of her stomach, idly and gently stoking the blades of grass under her fingertips. Her long, lithe, thin form pressed firmly into the ground, the muscle in her arms flexing unconsciously as she held her head up. Her face was utterly unreadable, and her hair ached from the tight bun she had it in. She wanted more than her armor off. She wanted a chance to relax, just for a moment, amidst all this chaos.

But was that wise? Many things felt as though they were coming to something of a climax tomorrow. This was only the calm before the storm. The calm before she discovered what sort of miserable fate she was sending Lance and the other volunteers off to. And, before long, she would risk Evan, too, as he ventured into the Underworld.

Lance met her gaze and seemed to recognize something in her expression, but he looked away soon after, agreeing that he might not need to think more about the goddess tonight.

There was an obvious void in the conversation then, another turning point. She could let him go to find whatever pleasures a man in his position might seek, but... he was still here.... with her, Mizu.

When he lazily rolled his head back her direction, her chest lit up with an inexplicable spark of excitement, and she couldn't help but read his narrowed eyes and slight smirk as something of a dare.

And was she going to give into that?

She thought again of the shimmer, of the goddess, of Evan and all the stories he wasn't able to tell her, of Phantom and the way they worshipped each other, of the way the crone and the goddess had said her name, and how much she missed having someone who knew her for more than a commander.

And yet...

Would Lance be able to separate the two? Was he only still here with her--did he only make a pass at her--because she was the commander? If she was anyone else, would he even find her attractive?

Mizu didn't particularly understand how other people gauged their own appeal. The commander didn't have the impression she was undesirable, but she didn't have any notions that she necessarily stood out in a crowd. Not for that reason, anyway. But, who was to say what Lance wanted?

She met his gaze unflinchingly, weighing again her options. She took a quietly shuddering breath, her fingers rubbing a little more intentionally at the grass before she stopped them completely, having come to a decision.

"I haven't eaten. And it's been a long time since I had any decent company." She gave Lance a small smile, knowing she was giving everyone she had recently interacted with, including the goddess, a slight, and elevating Lance in their stead. She then raised an eyebrow subtly in invitation.

Mizu met Lance's gaze, but was so unreadable aside from that. He thought that maybe he detected a hint of excitement, but that could have just been wishful thinking. Her fingers rubbed at the grass, and Lance couldn't help the longing glance that briefly tugged at his attention before Mizu took in a soft, shuddering breath, and stopped the motion. He returned his gaze to her face, already enrapt by whatever she was about to say.

"I haven't eaten. And it's been a long time since I had any decent company."

She gave a small smile at that, and then subtly raised an eyebrow in invitation, and Lance's heart fluttered.

He very nearly stammered out something about how it would be an honor, but, no, this was Mizu inviting him to a late-night dinner, not Commander Miyamoto. Which, was arguably more exciting? But, what exactly did she mean by 'decent company', anyway?

"Yeah," he said, his voice a bit more breathy than usual, his mind not quite present in the syllable; really, it was just his mouth trying to buy him some time while he brain caught up, his arms pushing him up to sitting in the meantime.

"Food sounds good." He smiled crookedly and shifted his weight onto one hand, the other absently brushing over his stomach as he checked in with it. He supposed he'd also missed dinner in all the excitement, and all at once, hunger erupted in the fresh attention. Yes, food sounded very, very good.

Mizu let out a long, quiet exhale when Lance said "yeah" and immediately felt ridiculous. Had she seriously been concerned about rejection? It wasn't that she expected Lance to say yes; it was more than she suddenly realized how disappointed she would have been if he had determined he would rather be elsewhere.

"No" wouldn't have surprised her, but... she was grateful that didn't happen.

But, now that they had a plan, her mind began furiously working out how any of this would happen... discreetly.

She typically had food brought to her in the strategy tent--that much wasn't unusual--but asking for two portions would almost certainly raise an eyebrow. The commander briefly imagined a scenario where someone from Captain Kade's retinue was specifically assigned to a role in the mess tent specifically for such intel. That was not altogether unbelievable. Then, she could ask Lance to go to the mess tent and get himself something? But then he would bring food back to her tent and surely that wouldn't escape notice either. Not to mention that she didn't entirely trust that Lance would keep his mouth shut about having dinner with her if she weren't literally standing beside him to prevent it.

She very nearly regretted the decision to invite him, but she closed her eyes and took a breath, watching the way Lance readjusted himself into a sitting position, and decided that, no, she didn't regret this. There was simply a lot to navigate. There would always be a lot to navigate.

And, really, whose business was it anyway whom she was with and when? Well... everyone's, actually. That was part of being the commander. She had agreed to this. To the loneliness of the rank and title. And yet, in this moment, she almost didn't want any of it.

That was a dangerous thought, though, and not one she would indulge for long. But, surely she could be forgiven one night...?

Meticulously, the commander first raised herself to a seated position and then began to make her way to her feet. She could already feel the ways she would be sore in the morning, and the thought gratified her. Lance and she really had had a good time sparring earlier.

Mizu looked in the direction of the camp, still not entirely sure how to proceed. It would be wisest to come to her wits now, to call this off, to apologize and go their separate ways, but her chest caved at the thought. Surely she could have both. And Lance was leaving tomorrow. Surely that changed the nature of their ranks to some degree.

Reaching down to pick up her armor and her sword belt, she began buckling them back on as she said, "Walk with me in one patrol around camp, and I'll have food brought to the strategy tent." She looked at him with a sternness coming entirely from her set jaw, hopeful that he wouldn't realize and poke ((OOC: too much)) fun at how much she was trying to avoid unwanted attention.

Lance started to feel a little nervous as Mizu began pushing herself up as well; she didn't look particularly pleased, he supposed, but, maybe she was just thinking? Thinking about what, though?

She got all the way to her feet before saying anything, and so Lance tentatively went ahead and stood up to join her, a soft, absent-minded groan brushing pleasantly past his lips as he felt his muscles ache a little with how much he'd worked them today. Not a bad feeling at all, but one that warranted at least some small expression.

Lance followed Mizu's gaze back towards camp, and finally found some idea of what she might be strategizing; a mixture of thrill and dejection swirled in his stomach as he contemplated the likelihood that she was trying to figure out how to be not obvious. He wanted to offer that perhaps it would be perfectly reasonable for the commander to dine with one of the honored volunteers on the eve of their fanfare--the highest-ranking volunteer, at that, especially considering Pemberley's state--but he couldn't quite find the words, and maybe that was still making light of her concern. Lance had little stake in what the army thought of him after he left, but Mizu had to go on being commander to the bitter end.

Sorrow permeated his chest as Mizu leaned down to pick up her sword and armor and began to re-don them. Lance followed suit with his own sword, albeit rather lackadaisically. They weren't really going back to Commander Miyamoto and Lieutenant Holloway, right?

"Walk with me in one patrol around camp," Mizu finally spoke, her jaw set sternly. "and I'll have food brought to the strategy tent."

Lance felt nervous, but he managed to turn up a slight grin as he mustered the courage for at least a little playfulness.

"Aye-aye, Commander." He winked and let his grin flare wider briefly before returning to a more neutral smile. He supposed he could enjoy this if he framed it like being in on a secret; here was hoping that was a game that Mizu could enjoy.

Having nearly finished buckling her armor, Mizu looked at Lance just as he began to respond to her suggestion.

"Aye, aye, Commander." The comment struck her like a slap in the face, and her surprise showed briefly, her lips parted and her brows furrowed in confusion. Hadn't they agreed to set their ranks aside? But, they were headed back into camp, back into a patrol, ostensibly, and Lance's tone wasn't exactly one of respect. The fact that he had winked as he said it also clued her in that he understood this was to be a secret, although she had no idea how he felt about that. The sarcasm hid any emotion she might have otherwise detected.

Finally, she smiled a little as a number of impulses warred within her. She wanted to punch his arm, push him over, kick him down again, or perhaps pull him into an embrace to make a point that she wasn't just the commander to him anymore. Excitement grew large in her belly as she considered her options, and finally she allowed herself something. Hopefully the first of many allowances this evening.

In what looked like a split-second decision, she stepped quickly to the side and pulled one leg into the air, quickly snapping it toward the top of Lance's thigh to strike him off-balance. If it had the intended effect, he would sprawl right back onto the ground.

Turning toward camp without regard for whether her gesture succeeded, the commander started walking resolutely back toward camp, glancing once over her shoulder just to make sure Lance was following.

When she was certain he was, she sped up, walking with purpose and breathing steadily such that she could put on her air of authority. Her posture stiffened, and her armor moved comfortably about her thin frame in a way that reminded her of who she was and what she represented.

As she crossed an invisible threshold between the sparring field and camp, a thrill entered her belly. She and Lance did have a secret, and she was eager to get to where they might more readily act on it. Although, as she imagined what would occur once they arrived at the tent... they would eat a dinner together and talk about... what exactly? And then, after dinner, how would they proceed? Would Mizu be bold enough to suggest what she wanted? Was intimacy with Lance even what she wanted?

She shook off the thoughts, trying to convince herself that she was trying to plan too many steps ahead. She needed to let these moments unfold; that was part of the point of them, after all.

The commander nodded to a few soldiers she recognized and ones she didn't, accustomed to the fact that some of the cadets found her too intimidating to even look at and discreetly shied away. She hoped that the fact that she had Lance in tow didn't strike up any curiosity; he had information to tell her, after all, and he was theoretically in charge of the volunteers while Evan was... indisposed.

She intentionally walked in the opposite direction of her tent at first, beginning a patrol and not bothering to make it look like Lance and she were having some important conversation. She didn't want Lance to say anything she would regret later. His sarcasm alone might give something away. The commander continued walking, falling into a familiar rhythm of checking for movement, for anything out of the ordinary, as she walked beside Lance and started back toward the strategy tent, the heat in her body growing.

Shortly after, a runner came her direction, clearly out of breath, and she sobered quickly. Something was the matter.

"Commander," the runner said, catching his breath, "there's someone from the Shel'ti capital here to see you." He took a few more breaths before he finished what he had to say. "There's a messenger waiting outside your tent. They only just arrived."

Mizu's stomach immediately turned away from excitement and toward fear as sensations mixed unpleasantly within her. It was not a short distance for them to send someone, and Mizu could only guess why they had gone to so much trouble. She looked at Lance and nodded, hoping he would understand that she still wanted him to come with her. She didn't want to give up on their plans until she knew more about the situation.

"Thank you for this. Please go to the mess tent and ask for three portions of food to be brought to the strategy tent."

"Certainly, Commander," the runner said, sparing a look at Lieutenant Holloway. Mizu held herself back from rolling her eyes and managed to keep her face stoic. Picking up her pace now, she made quick work of closing the distance between here and her tent.

Things were about to get even more interesting.

The messenger was androgynous with long blonde hair and well adorned with gold brocade and expensive lace that still managing to be light enough to allow for quick travel. Wasting little time, Mizu began with the customary greeting for the Shel'ti and then said, "Welcome. Thank you for your patience."

The messenger responded in turn to the greeting and then said, "I have news about the alliance between our nations." If she didn't know better, she would think the messenger was excited, and Mizu had a difficult time understanding why that might be the case.

"I am eager to hear it," the commander said, "Step inside the tent, and we can discuss it privately. I will have a meal brought for you. I am sure it is less grand than what you are accustomed to, but we make the best of what is available." After a beat, Mizu nodded shortly to Lance and said, "this is one of the men working toward the solution we discussed with your king." The messenger bowed toward Lance, and then Mizu gestured toward the tent, encouraging the messenger to enter.

Nervousness and an anxious second-guessing bubbled up in Lance the instant he'd responded to Mizu, though if he was being honest, those were sensations he was rather well used to. She looked surprised, and that both tickled and tore at him. Had his intention carried through, or had he just shot this whole adventure right through the heart?

But, no, Mizu smiled, and Lance was hopeful she'd understood. He'd just started to feel his chest relax when she stepped to the side in a way that startled him. His instincts flared back into sparring mode, but entirely too late--Mizu's leg was already in the air, and her foot connected rather assertively with his thigh, his stance far too lazy to withstand it. His impacted leg buckled and his arms flailed rather unceremoniously in the air as he flopped right down onto his ass with a brief, choked-off “wah!” escaping his throat and a soft thud as he hit the ground. Oof, his tailbone was gonna feel that one.

Lance clicked his tongue as he turned his gaze back to Mizu, and for half a second his stomach dropped to see her walking away. But, in short order, she looked back over her shoulder at him, and Lance remembered the smile that had graced her face before she'd pulled that maneuver. No, that had been playful, he was sure of it, and now, she was looking back to see how successful her play had been, and excitement and embarrassment both rushed through him like a giddy schoolboy. He hopped up promptly, wincing silently through the dull throb on his tailbone and hastening to catch up with her.

He allowed himself to lean close to her just long enough to whisper a soft, “Ow,” complete with a congratulatory smile, before he straightened up and resumed a more lieutenant-ly stance as he strode alongside her.

A thrill danced through him as they walked around camp--several different thrills, actually. The thrill of having a secret; the thrill of eyes landing on him; the thrill of what may yet come of the evening. Even so, he did Mizu the honor of preserving his more businesslike front, treating this patrol as though he really did have Commander-Lieutenant business to attend to, though he liked to think that it might be interpreted as Commander-Volunteer business by at least a few onlookers, whatever they might imagine that to mean.

The commander led him away from the strategy tent first, and Lance felt a warm, fluttery buzz starting up in his chest as they started to head that direction.

So, naturally, something just had to interrupt.

"Commander," a runner approached, catching his breath, "there's someone from the Shel'ti capital here to see you." He took a few more breaths before he finished what he had to say. "There's a messenger waiting outside your tent. They only just arrived."

Lance’s expression was about as grim as it ever got. They were supposed to reconvene with the Shel’ti after sending their volunteers to the goddess, if he understood things correctly. Was it bad news that a messenger was already here? Was there any chance that all this would be for naught? And, those questions aside, he couldn’t help feeling pessimistic about what this might mean for his and Mizu’s dinner.

Mizu did look to him and nod, though, and that at least re-warmed his chest. She went on to ask for three portions of food to be brought to her tent, which Lance had rather mixed feelings about. But, he supposed, if he had to fall back into Lieutenant Holloway, Volunteer Tribute to the Goddess of Dreams and Desire… well, surely that wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he could even learn something from this messenger on that front.

Mizu greeted the messenger ceremoniously, and Lance did his best to just be lieutenant-y at her side: pleasant, but serious; interested, but deferential. The messenger seemed… positive, so there was that; Lance let himself start to become cautiously optimistic.

Mizu invited the messenger into the tent and made some usual prostrations about the quality of the food and all that, and then she surprised Lance by referring to him.

"This is one of the men working toward the solution we discussed with your king."

Lance’s eyebrows rose in spite of himself, but he supposed all that made sense, and he recovered quickly, smoothly transitioning the mild surprise into a cordial smile to the messenger. The messenger bowed toward Lance, and Lance mirrored the motion, still a little uncertain about Shel’ti culture but trying his best to catch on.