templemarker

by templemarker

Notes: For voleuse in the Firefly ficathon. Mal/Inara. Sort of.

***

This is a story they tell on Mumbai, Book says, and the table goes quiet except for eating noises.

There was a young man who was brave and loved by his village. He protected them and looked after them, made sure no monsters bothered them. He was a good man, but distant; the village sought matches for him, to gift him with a wife in return for caring for them. But he would not hear them, only roamed the countryside and guarding the borders of their village.

They tried many times, bringing young women from all parts of the world to him. He would not look at them, but drink his wine and eat his dinner instead. Finally the people became frustrated, and talked angrily amongst themselves.

‘Does he not see how beautiful these women are?’

‘How elegant?’

‘What good wives they would make?’

And so they concluded that the young man did not, in fact, see. They devised a plan to do so.

One of their village went out unto the world and sought the most beautiful and compassionate woman she could find. She traveled far and wide, and finally came upon a village much like their own, where there was a woman who was loved and valued by her village, but rather than marry chose to spin and weave in her lonely house. These people sent the woman away with her, and so they returned to the village where the eager people waited and the young man remained still unmarried.

The people were pleased; she was pleasant and kind, save when they talked of the subject of marriage. Then she would grow distant, looking beyond the faces of those who would talk to her to some far-off thing.

The village devised a plan: they would bring the two together, by whatever means they must employ. So the man and the woman were led into a room, not knowing that the other would be there. And before they realized what, exactly, was going on, two of the quickest boys in the village had bound them together at the ankle by rope.

It was, of course, magical rope, that would not come undone no matter how much they pulled and tugged. They were stuck, and so they went as far as the rope would allow them to each side of the room.

They sat like that for days, unmoving save for the food the village brought them. The people were waiting for any bit of news that the two had come together. But still neither would give, only tugging the rope harder every time they felt the other breathe, or mutter, or move.

Yet it seemed as though every time they tugged, the distance between them would lessen, until their backs were turned against each other at the small table in the middle of the room. They tried very hard not to move, for their ankles were only scant inches from each other now. Should they tug the rope again, their skin would be touching.

Inevitably, one of them moved. Their ankles touched, and both caught their breath at sudden contact. They tried to ignore each other even harder, but being so close became distracting. And finally the man turned slightly and spoke to the woman.

They began talking, to pass the long hours between meals, for they did not know when the village would free them. They learned much of each other, their homes and lives and loves. Before they realized it, their bodies were turned toward each other in open response, and when the girl that brought their morning meal came in, she dropped her tray in surprise. For the rope had disappeared, and the two had never known it.

On their wedding day, the man gifted the woman with a golden anklet to always remind them of what they had learned.

When Book looked up from the spot on the wall where he’d focused his gaze, he saw that Mal had left the table and Inara was staring at her empty plate, her hands folded politely in her lap. Kaylee was trying not to giggle, and the others were engrossed in thought. Book picked up his dessert, berry pie that had cost them a portion of their earnings from this run, and took a bite.