She plucks idly at the threads of her skirts, fine and beautiful brocaded material. After her fighting and sleeping in it, not so well kept now. But it wraps over her normal clothes securely to keep her warm against the chill that won't leave her.
Never would she be this kind of cold in Jhansi, even when the winters snapped sharp air, no, it was warm and empty and flat. Home, she thinks, and she wants to see it once more before she dies, she knows. Jhansi in the summer, the beautiful carved walls of the Rani Mahal, the high scraping towers of the Fortress. Her painted walls. Home, home, and her ladies sparring in the courtyard, Damodar running to catch against her leg to tell her this or that he had learned.
Home, home, home. She breathes out again. Stop rattling, she thinks at it, stop rattling so, she pleads with it, we will see it again -
"I think on that often. Even before I came here. Though it seems even more out of reach now." Snaps one thread at the hem in a satisfying little yank, wrapped around her first and second finger. "Do you think of it?"
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Never would she be this kind of cold in Jhansi, even when the winters snapped sharp air, no, it was warm and empty and flat. Home, she thinks, and she wants to see it once more before she dies, she knows. Jhansi in the summer, the beautiful carved walls of the Rani Mahal, the high scraping towers of the Fortress. Her painted walls. Home, home, and her ladies sparring in the courtyard, Damodar running to catch against her leg to tell her this or that he had learned.
Home, home, home. She breathes out again. Stop rattling, she thinks at it, stop rattling so, she pleads with it, we will see it again -
"I think on that often. Even before I came here. Though it seems even more out of reach now." Snaps one thread at the hem in a satisfying little yank, wrapped around her first and second finger. "Do you think of it?"