[ She's half listening as he moves, less interested in a chiding that seems more appropriate for if she'd pocketed sweets from a merchant in town than a difference in philosophies when there's something far more curious. Not just objects disappear, but the furniture as well. She squints, trying to hold onto it but fruitlessly it all fades. She can't brush it away as some tricky bit of place-based magic.
It's him.
The skin around her collar feels itchy suddenly. She fights the impulse to curl forward, hunching, but she cannot afford to be small around him. She forces her spine straighter to meet him. ]
You never told me if you got my letter.
[ As if such a short note could be considered such. ]
no subject
It's him.
The skin around her collar feels itchy suddenly. She fights the impulse to curl forward, hunching, but she cannot afford to be small around him. She forces her spine straighter to meet him. ]
You never told me if you got my letter.
[ As if such a short note could be considered such. ]