A week after the battle, Khari's knees were mostly functional.
Unfortunately, they were pretty much the only parts of her legs that were, just enough that she could bend where necessary, though it didn't work especially well, since her muscles were still healing after being reattached to her bones where they'd torn free beneath the crush of red lyrium and her own armor. She was splinted and bandaged from her hips through her thighs, and then again from shins to ankles. Even her feet were splinted, though those were smaller. The idea, apparently, was that keeping everything held in the right places would help her heal properly. There was only so much that magic could do; after a certain point, her recovery was on her.
Still... she wasn't allowed to be on her feet for a while yet; the sole poorly-considered attempt she'd made to walk had proven to her that she was getting nowhere on her own right now, either. Her legs simply could not support her weight, and even trying to make it work was painful in a way she'd never felt before. So she was trapped.
Khari couldn't abide being stuck in an infirmary while there was life happening outside of it. It was driving her up a wall, except not literally, because climbing was definitely on the list of things she was too injured to be doing. It was with perhaps more enthusiasm than anyone should have for something so foul that she downed what was left of the red potion in the vial she held, setting it down on the side-table next to her bed and exhaling heavily.
“I hate this." It wasn't the first time she'd said it, but it was the first time she'd said it today, at least. She was doing her best to not make Rom feel as agitated as she was, after all.
He looked tired, more than anything, sitting on a chair next to her bed with his feet propped up on a bedpost. As he'd reported it, Rom had worked his way back into the fighting after creating the rift that led to their breakthrough of the red templar lines. When he was told after the battle that he was only going to get in the way if he kept standing around her while they worked, he vented by trying to help chase down the fleeing templars. Sadly they were as swift as they were strong, and they really didn't tire at all, which meant that he was wasting his time. Others could follow their tracks, and see where they would lead to.
Since coming back, he'd mostly just stayed with her, except for moments when she slept, where he would sneak away and return with something to eat, better than the tasteless scraps the rest of the wounded had to put up with. He was especially good at hiding what he felt, but it still wasn't hard to see that some of the hit she'd taken had fallen on him, too.
"Well... this is what happens when you jump in front of a behemoth's fist." There was a touch of annoyance that he didn't try to hide to the words. It wasn't the first time they'd exchanged a conversation like this. One of the others had led him to call her idiotically brave, with as much admiration as condemnation. If he'd actually disapproved of what she'd done, they likely wouldn't be as close as they were. Still, he obviously wasn't enjoying watching her go through it.
Khari sighed. She needed to stop complaining. Wanted to, even, but there was just nothing to do here. “Yeah. In my defense though, I did it for an Emperor. If there's a good reason to jump in front of a behemoth's fist, 'stopping it from smashing the leader of the world's most powerful country and an all-around good guy' is probably it, right?" Her eyes fell to her lap, where her hands rested. Fuck, her legs ached. She could really use a good distraction right now.
Rom didn't contest the point. "As long as this doesn't become a regular thing. Seems like an Emperor should be paying people to do that kind of thing for him. Or better yet, not putting himself on the front lines of bloody battles." The last sentence was lowered to a murmur, as the door down the hall opened to let a new visitor into the infirmary, and it just so happened to be the very person they were discussing.
Lucien was humming, of all things, under his breath so that it wasn't apparent until he'd come a bit closer. It stopped when his eyes found them, though; he offered a small, somewhat-uncertain smile then. "Khari. Romulus," he said. It was hard to tell, but something about the situation seemed to be making him feel just slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps he'd expected she'd be by herself or something.
"I came to ask how you were feeling." His eyes fell to her legs; he grimaced sympathetically. "And also to thank you, inadequate as the words alone might be."
Khari felt not even a trace of his awkwardness, and grinned outright at him. “You're welcome. Heroic deeds for the Emperor, right?" She called back to their conversation in Halamshiral, tilting her head. “Doesn't get too much more heroic than that, I figure." Of course, that hadn't been her motive in the moment, which was probably good, since she wasn't sure it would have counted as 'heroic' if it had been. But she figured he knew that already.
“I'll make myself a household name yet—just you watch."
Lucien exhaled, the shape of it something like a sigh. There was a hint of exasperation around the edges, and he shook his head faintly, approaching a bit closer and pulling up a free chair. "I hope you do," he replied. "But I also hope you live to tell the tales yourself, if you take my meaning." He seemed to believe he'd made the point clear enough, at any rate.
"Honestly, though—is there anything else you need at the moment? I know the healers have been quite busy as a rule, but I'm sure I could find someone if there were."
No doubt he could—and no doubt whatever poor healer he found would be scared out of their mind. Because no matter how nice he was—and Khari was pretty sure he was one of the nicest people she'd ever get to meet—having an Emperor personally track you down and ask you to please see to extra pillows for his friend the crazy elf would probably be a daunting experience, to say the least. Khari tried to remember when this sort of thing had become normal for her; surely a couple of years back, even she would have been pretty cowed just being in the same room as some of the people she now called by their first names.
Life was strange.
“I need to get the hell outta this infirmary, is what I need." She'd intended to grumble it, but an idea struck her about halfway through, brightening her tone and completely ruining the effect. But... if the healers were intimidated by him—and they probably were—this could be perfect. “What's the going price on an Emperor's life, anyway? Can I cash in my good deed for a lift outside? Please?" She shot an aside glance at Rom, not totally sure he'd approve of the plan. Technically, she wasn't supposed to exert herself, after all.
He didn't seem totally against it, at least, and shrugged when the glance was received. "As long as we're not doing anything that's going to slow the recovery," he said, sparing a half second glance at Lucien before he looked back to Khari. He'd brought his feet down from the bedpost since Lucien came in, and he leaned forward a bit in his chair now. "You've got important work to be doing, and not a lot of time left to get ready for it."
Lucien looked undeniably curious about what Rom was alluding to, but he didn't go so far as to ask. Moving his eyes back to her, he shrugged, smiling with something close to fond exasperation. "I suppose it's worth that much. I think I can throw my authority around a little, get the infirmary's prisoner an afternoon in the sun, at least." Pushing himself from the chair, he sat on the edge of her mattress instead. "But you used the word lift, so I suppose that makes me the transport as well, doesn't it?"
“That's the idea." Khari grinned at him, shifting herself around until she could grab onto his shoulders from behind. “Knees aren't busted anymore, by the way, so don't worry about that part." She figured this probably counted as among the more shameless and ridiculous things she'd ever actually done, but that was just more reason to enjoy every second of it.
“I want the tour, too. You can show Rom and me all the interesting places in Kirkwall, and tell us stories about what it was like when you lived here." She smacked the back of his shoulder with one hand, entirely without sting.
Lucien sighed. If it was possible for an eyeroll to have a sound, that sigh was probably it. "Is she always like this?" he asked of Rom, though much like her hit, there was no bite to the question, or even any implied criticism. He stood slowly, adjusting his grip until she was comfortably braced on his back. The weight didn't seem to bother him any; considering she was without her armor, he'd probably carried gear that was heavier.
Rom couldn't help a little smile of his own. "Absolutely," he said. "It's good for morale." He got to his feet, apparently finding it refreshing to have the chance to stretch out his own legs.
“I'm the reason the Inquisition has huge snow fights in the middle of winter." Khari shrugged, adjusting to her new perch. This must be what tall people felt like all the time. Or, well, mostly. “Which makes me the best for morale."
"Ah, so that was you. I'd heard tell of the Firstday celebrations." Once assured that everyone was ready to go, Lucien exited through the infirmary through the same door he'd come in though. The Keep itself wasn't too different from most buildings of its kind, and was significantly smaller than Skyhold at that. But he pointed out the various sections of it as they went anyway.
He paused for a moment when they came to a large, arched double door. "In there is the throne room. That would be where the final confrontation with the Qunari took place. We had to fight our way up here from Lowtown, not entirely unlike the siege. But that conflict ended with single combat between Sophia and the Arishok." His tone was difficult to read; there was obvious pride and affection in it, but also something a great deal more solemn than that.
“Speaking of heroic deeds." Khari wasn't sure where the extra melancholy was coming from, but she'd heard that the rest of Sophia's family died in the conflict, so maybe it had something to do with that. The stories also said that she'd been pretty terribly injured in the fight, though much to Khari's irritation, actual details on the battle had always been sparing.
A thought occurred to her then, though. “How did it come to that situation, anyway?" What she wanted to ask, but wasn't quite obnoxious enough to, was why Lucien hadn't done the single combat part. Not that she thought Sophia was incapable of it—history bore out that she most definitely was—but it sort of seemed like the thing that a chevalier like Lucien would practically jump at the chance to do if it would spare someone else the trouble.
Though she hadn't asked it outright, he seemed to be able to detect the underlying question. Or perhaps it was just that he'd thought about it in the same terms himself. He parted his lips as if to speak, but at first all that came out was a short breath. It took him another few long seconds to work up to a reply.
"I'd have done it myself, with half the chance," he said quietly. "But as it was... the fight wasn't necessary, in the larger sense. The Qunari had what they'd come for, and they were perfectly willing to leave." No doubt not without cost, given the deaths involved even to get that far. "But it wasn't quite—sometimes, there are battles that belong to someone else. And not even a knight can stand in to fight them instead." He shook his head slightly.
"That fight had more to do with something inside Sophia than anything outside. If I'd tried to make it go any differently—tried to prevent it or intercede when it had begun, most of the people in the Keep that day would have died." His brows knit; he shifted his grip on her legs slightly, still careful not to jostle her.
"Of all the challenges I've ever faced, none is more difficult than learning to balance my own desire to solve other people's problems with the fact that sometimes even trying to do that would make them all the worse." He turned them away from the door, then, passing through the Keep's open entrance and at last to the fresh air outside.
Khari couldn't say she'd ever encountered a situation like that. Some situation where she had to stand aside and let someone else fight a battle all by themselves. Or, well, at least not a literal battle. She glanced down at Rom for a moment—and that was a pretty novel perspective, wasn't it? Scrunching her nose, she blew out a gusty sigh and propped her chin on Lucien's shoulder. They were nice for that; all broad and stuff. For a second, she wondered how he'd react if she told him some version of what she'd told Leon, a long time ago back in Haven.
But the topic was too serious for that kind of frivolity, however genuinely and harmlessly she'd mean what she said. “I dunno what I would have done in a situation like that." She ignored the slight twinges in her legs—it wasn't Lucien's fault the Keep had so many damn stairs. Whole city was like that. “Not that I think you did the wrong thing. I'm just not sure I'd have been able to do the right one."
Her whole life, Khari had confronted problems head-on, even when a more subtle approach had been called for. Even all the things she'd learned since joining the Inquisition were refinements on the technique, rather than true alternatives. It still came down to the fact that when she found danger, she planted herself in front of it. Or charged right for it. Having people to care about had only sharpened the instinct, not dulled it. “Maybe I'm not cut out for leadership." It was a difficult thing to admit, but the more she learned about command—real command, not just taking charge in the field—the more she suspected she wasn't cut out for it. Bad news, considering that chevaliers were often in real command of army units.
"Don't count yourself out," Lucien replied, reaching the bottom of the Keep's stairs and aiming them almost directly for Lowtown. No doubt that was where the majority of the stories he could tell took place. "If that particular balancing act is the most difficult thing to manage, well... you're in the same boat as a lot of very effective leaders, I think." Beneath her hands and chin, his shoulders lifted, before he remembered himself and aborted the shrug.
He fell silent for a moment, then continued. "I know I probably made it seem like you'll have to be better than almost anyone else to achieve what you want, and that's true. But it's not to say you have to be able to do absolutely everything perfectly. Honestly, it's mostly a matter of impressing the right people, vexing as that fact can be for other reasons."
Vexing was probably right. She hadn't exactly impressed all that many people at Halamshiral, for instance. Still... “Well, I'm pretty sure at least one of those people is you, Ser Emperor, ser. So—any tips?" Khari felt a grin tugging at her mouth. She probably wasn't doing too badly on that front, if he'd willingly agreed to carry her around Kirkwall on his back.
She heard him snort. "That much, you've already done—in a rather spectacular fashion, I might add." His hands gave her legs a careful squeeze where he held them, no doubt an improvised version of something he'd have done to her shoulder, were the positioning different. "So my only advice is keep being the person you are. And keep working on your skills, of course. That never hurts."
It still got to her, sometimes, how some people seemed to think that she was best as she was. How they didn't think she had to be different. Simple as the exhortation had been—mild and gentle and even lighthearted—it choked her up a little, a lump rising unexpectedly in her throat. She figured this must be what it felt like to have her heroes believe in her. Really believe. Her thoughts flickered to Big Bear for a moment, and she swallowed past the lump.
She knew what it was like for one of them to care about what she wanted. To care about her. That much, she recognized in hindsight, at least. But this was a damn sight more reassuring, after everything. This one honestly seemed to think that she could do what she'd set herself to trying. Clearing her throat, Khari suppressed the swelling emotion in her chest and throat and pasted a stupid grin on her face. “Well... nobody does me like I do. You got it, Lucien. Now tell us about Lowtown."
Maybe she'd figure out a way to express her gratitude at some point. But she didn't have the words for it today. Today, she just wanted stories about someone else's dumb shenanigans and to forget how much her legs hurt. First things first, or something like that.
Unfortunately, they were pretty much the only parts of her legs that were, just enough that she could bend where necessary, though it didn't work especially well, since her muscles were still healing after being reattached to her bones where they'd torn free beneath the crush of red lyrium and her own armor. She was splinted and bandaged from her hips through her thighs, and then again from shins to ankles. Even her feet were splinted, though those were smaller. The idea, apparently, was that keeping everything held in the right places would help her heal properly. There was only so much that magic could do; after a certain point, her recovery was on her.
Still... she wasn't allowed to be on her feet for a while yet; the sole poorly-considered attempt she'd made to walk had proven to her that she was getting nowhere on her own right now, either. Her legs simply could not support her weight, and even trying to make it work was painful in a way she'd never felt before. So she was trapped.
Khari couldn't abide being stuck in an infirmary while there was life happening outside of it. It was driving her up a wall, except not literally, because climbing was definitely on the list of things she was too injured to be doing. It was with perhaps more enthusiasm than anyone should have for something so foul that she downed what was left of the red potion in the vial she held, setting it down on the side-table next to her bed and exhaling heavily.
“I hate this." It wasn't the first time she'd said it, but it was the first time she'd said it today, at least. She was doing her best to not make Rom feel as agitated as she was, after all.
He looked tired, more than anything, sitting on a chair next to her bed with his feet propped up on a bedpost. As he'd reported it, Rom had worked his way back into the fighting after creating the rift that led to their breakthrough of the red templar lines. When he was told after the battle that he was only going to get in the way if he kept standing around her while they worked, he vented by trying to help chase down the fleeing templars. Sadly they were as swift as they were strong, and they really didn't tire at all, which meant that he was wasting his time. Others could follow their tracks, and see where they would lead to.
Since coming back, he'd mostly just stayed with her, except for moments when she slept, where he would sneak away and return with something to eat, better than the tasteless scraps the rest of the wounded had to put up with. He was especially good at hiding what he felt, but it still wasn't hard to see that some of the hit she'd taken had fallen on him, too.
"Well... this is what happens when you jump in front of a behemoth's fist." There was a touch of annoyance that he didn't try to hide to the words. It wasn't the first time they'd exchanged a conversation like this. One of the others had led him to call her idiotically brave, with as much admiration as condemnation. If he'd actually disapproved of what she'd done, they likely wouldn't be as close as they were. Still, he obviously wasn't enjoying watching her go through it.
Khari sighed. She needed to stop complaining. Wanted to, even, but there was just nothing to do here. “Yeah. In my defense though, I did it for an Emperor. If there's a good reason to jump in front of a behemoth's fist, 'stopping it from smashing the leader of the world's most powerful country and an all-around good guy' is probably it, right?" Her eyes fell to her lap, where her hands rested. Fuck, her legs ached. She could really use a good distraction right now.
Rom didn't contest the point. "As long as this doesn't become a regular thing. Seems like an Emperor should be paying people to do that kind of thing for him. Or better yet, not putting himself on the front lines of bloody battles." The last sentence was lowered to a murmur, as the door down the hall opened to let a new visitor into the infirmary, and it just so happened to be the very person they were discussing.
Lucien was humming, of all things, under his breath so that it wasn't apparent until he'd come a bit closer. It stopped when his eyes found them, though; he offered a small, somewhat-uncertain smile then. "Khari. Romulus," he said. It was hard to tell, but something about the situation seemed to be making him feel just slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps he'd expected she'd be by herself or something.
"I came to ask how you were feeling." His eyes fell to her legs; he grimaced sympathetically. "And also to thank you, inadequate as the words alone might be."
Khari felt not even a trace of his awkwardness, and grinned outright at him. “You're welcome. Heroic deeds for the Emperor, right?" She called back to their conversation in Halamshiral, tilting her head. “Doesn't get too much more heroic than that, I figure." Of course, that hadn't been her motive in the moment, which was probably good, since she wasn't sure it would have counted as 'heroic' if it had been. But she figured he knew that already.
“I'll make myself a household name yet—just you watch."
Lucien exhaled, the shape of it something like a sigh. There was a hint of exasperation around the edges, and he shook his head faintly, approaching a bit closer and pulling up a free chair. "I hope you do," he replied. "But I also hope you live to tell the tales yourself, if you take my meaning." He seemed to believe he'd made the point clear enough, at any rate.
"Honestly, though—is there anything else you need at the moment? I know the healers have been quite busy as a rule, but I'm sure I could find someone if there were."
No doubt he could—and no doubt whatever poor healer he found would be scared out of their mind. Because no matter how nice he was—and Khari was pretty sure he was one of the nicest people she'd ever get to meet—having an Emperor personally track you down and ask you to please see to extra pillows for his friend the crazy elf would probably be a daunting experience, to say the least. Khari tried to remember when this sort of thing had become normal for her; surely a couple of years back, even she would have been pretty cowed just being in the same room as some of the people she now called by their first names.
Life was strange.
“I need to get the hell outta this infirmary, is what I need." She'd intended to grumble it, but an idea struck her about halfway through, brightening her tone and completely ruining the effect. But... if the healers were intimidated by him—and they probably were—this could be perfect. “What's the going price on an Emperor's life, anyway? Can I cash in my good deed for a lift outside? Please?" She shot an aside glance at Rom, not totally sure he'd approve of the plan. Technically, she wasn't supposed to exert herself, after all.
He didn't seem totally against it, at least, and shrugged when the glance was received. "As long as we're not doing anything that's going to slow the recovery," he said, sparing a half second glance at Lucien before he looked back to Khari. He'd brought his feet down from the bedpost since Lucien came in, and he leaned forward a bit in his chair now. "You've got important work to be doing, and not a lot of time left to get ready for it."
Lucien looked undeniably curious about what Rom was alluding to, but he didn't go so far as to ask. Moving his eyes back to her, he shrugged, smiling with something close to fond exasperation. "I suppose it's worth that much. I think I can throw my authority around a little, get the infirmary's prisoner an afternoon in the sun, at least." Pushing himself from the chair, he sat on the edge of her mattress instead. "But you used the word lift, so I suppose that makes me the transport as well, doesn't it?"
“That's the idea." Khari grinned at him, shifting herself around until she could grab onto his shoulders from behind. “Knees aren't busted anymore, by the way, so don't worry about that part." She figured this probably counted as among the more shameless and ridiculous things she'd ever actually done, but that was just more reason to enjoy every second of it.
“I want the tour, too. You can show Rom and me all the interesting places in Kirkwall, and tell us stories about what it was like when you lived here." She smacked the back of his shoulder with one hand, entirely without sting.
Lucien sighed. If it was possible for an eyeroll to have a sound, that sigh was probably it. "Is she always like this?" he asked of Rom, though much like her hit, there was no bite to the question, or even any implied criticism. He stood slowly, adjusting his grip until she was comfortably braced on his back. The weight didn't seem to bother him any; considering she was without her armor, he'd probably carried gear that was heavier.
Rom couldn't help a little smile of his own. "Absolutely," he said. "It's good for morale." He got to his feet, apparently finding it refreshing to have the chance to stretch out his own legs.
“I'm the reason the Inquisition has huge snow fights in the middle of winter." Khari shrugged, adjusting to her new perch. This must be what tall people felt like all the time. Or, well, mostly. “Which makes me the best for morale."
"Ah, so that was you. I'd heard tell of the Firstday celebrations." Once assured that everyone was ready to go, Lucien exited through the infirmary through the same door he'd come in though. The Keep itself wasn't too different from most buildings of its kind, and was significantly smaller than Skyhold at that. But he pointed out the various sections of it as they went anyway.
He paused for a moment when they came to a large, arched double door. "In there is the throne room. That would be where the final confrontation with the Qunari took place. We had to fight our way up here from Lowtown, not entirely unlike the siege. But that conflict ended with single combat between Sophia and the Arishok." His tone was difficult to read; there was obvious pride and affection in it, but also something a great deal more solemn than that.
“Speaking of heroic deeds." Khari wasn't sure where the extra melancholy was coming from, but she'd heard that the rest of Sophia's family died in the conflict, so maybe it had something to do with that. The stories also said that she'd been pretty terribly injured in the fight, though much to Khari's irritation, actual details on the battle had always been sparing.
A thought occurred to her then, though. “How did it come to that situation, anyway?" What she wanted to ask, but wasn't quite obnoxious enough to, was why Lucien hadn't done the single combat part. Not that she thought Sophia was incapable of it—history bore out that she most definitely was—but it sort of seemed like the thing that a chevalier like Lucien would practically jump at the chance to do if it would spare someone else the trouble.
Though she hadn't asked it outright, he seemed to be able to detect the underlying question. Or perhaps it was just that he'd thought about it in the same terms himself. He parted his lips as if to speak, but at first all that came out was a short breath. It took him another few long seconds to work up to a reply.
"I'd have done it myself, with half the chance," he said quietly. "But as it was... the fight wasn't necessary, in the larger sense. The Qunari had what they'd come for, and they were perfectly willing to leave." No doubt not without cost, given the deaths involved even to get that far. "But it wasn't quite—sometimes, there are battles that belong to someone else. And not even a knight can stand in to fight them instead." He shook his head slightly.
"That fight had more to do with something inside Sophia than anything outside. If I'd tried to make it go any differently—tried to prevent it or intercede when it had begun, most of the people in the Keep that day would have died." His brows knit; he shifted his grip on her legs slightly, still careful not to jostle her.
"Of all the challenges I've ever faced, none is more difficult than learning to balance my own desire to solve other people's problems with the fact that sometimes even trying to do that would make them all the worse." He turned them away from the door, then, passing through the Keep's open entrance and at last to the fresh air outside.
Khari couldn't say she'd ever encountered a situation like that. Some situation where she had to stand aside and let someone else fight a battle all by themselves. Or, well, at least not a literal battle. She glanced down at Rom for a moment—and that was a pretty novel perspective, wasn't it? Scrunching her nose, she blew out a gusty sigh and propped her chin on Lucien's shoulder. They were nice for that; all broad and stuff. For a second, she wondered how he'd react if she told him some version of what she'd told Leon, a long time ago back in Haven.
But the topic was too serious for that kind of frivolity, however genuinely and harmlessly she'd mean what she said. “I dunno what I would have done in a situation like that." She ignored the slight twinges in her legs—it wasn't Lucien's fault the Keep had so many damn stairs. Whole city was like that. “Not that I think you did the wrong thing. I'm just not sure I'd have been able to do the right one."
Her whole life, Khari had confronted problems head-on, even when a more subtle approach had been called for. Even all the things she'd learned since joining the Inquisition were refinements on the technique, rather than true alternatives. It still came down to the fact that when she found danger, she planted herself in front of it. Or charged right for it. Having people to care about had only sharpened the instinct, not dulled it. “Maybe I'm not cut out for leadership." It was a difficult thing to admit, but the more she learned about command—real command, not just taking charge in the field—the more she suspected she wasn't cut out for it. Bad news, considering that chevaliers were often in real command of army units.
"Don't count yourself out," Lucien replied, reaching the bottom of the Keep's stairs and aiming them almost directly for Lowtown. No doubt that was where the majority of the stories he could tell took place. "If that particular balancing act is the most difficult thing to manage, well... you're in the same boat as a lot of very effective leaders, I think." Beneath her hands and chin, his shoulders lifted, before he remembered himself and aborted the shrug.
He fell silent for a moment, then continued. "I know I probably made it seem like you'll have to be better than almost anyone else to achieve what you want, and that's true. But it's not to say you have to be able to do absolutely everything perfectly. Honestly, it's mostly a matter of impressing the right people, vexing as that fact can be for other reasons."
Vexing was probably right. She hadn't exactly impressed all that many people at Halamshiral, for instance. Still... “Well, I'm pretty sure at least one of those people is you, Ser Emperor, ser. So—any tips?" Khari felt a grin tugging at her mouth. She probably wasn't doing too badly on that front, if he'd willingly agreed to carry her around Kirkwall on his back.
She heard him snort. "That much, you've already done—in a rather spectacular fashion, I might add." His hands gave her legs a careful squeeze where he held them, no doubt an improvised version of something he'd have done to her shoulder, were the positioning different. "So my only advice is keep being the person you are. And keep working on your skills, of course. That never hurts."
It still got to her, sometimes, how some people seemed to think that she was best as she was. How they didn't think she had to be different. Simple as the exhortation had been—mild and gentle and even lighthearted—it choked her up a little, a lump rising unexpectedly in her throat. She figured this must be what it felt like to have her heroes believe in her. Really believe. Her thoughts flickered to Big Bear for a moment, and she swallowed past the lump.
She knew what it was like for one of them to care about what she wanted. To care about her. That much, she recognized in hindsight, at least. But this was a damn sight more reassuring, after everything. This one honestly seemed to think that she could do what she'd set herself to trying. Clearing her throat, Khari suppressed the swelling emotion in her chest and throat and pasted a stupid grin on her face. “Well... nobody does me like I do. You got it, Lucien. Now tell us about Lowtown."
Maybe she'd figure out a way to express her gratitude at some point. But she didn't have the words for it today. Today, she just wanted stories about someone else's dumb shenanigans and to forget how much her legs hurt. First things first, or something like that.