[If she appreciates the rare flash of humor, it's obscure enough to not disturb the otherwise still surface of her. --Not that she isn't paying attention. No, he leads her to the low table and her mind is taut like a thread fixed between two points. She takes a seat and the rich scent from the pot and the fine little details on the handmade dishes do absolutely nothing to ease the tension. The last time she'd sat at such a table, Nulheer Vulbhan had been just there at her left elbow telling a story they had all already known as Cameron Moral wrote a new line with one hand and ate a flaking pastry with the other, head bowed.
The effect is something like three version of deja vu and for a split second she's aware enough to be unsettled by it. What has the reason been for stopping these little meetings? Someone had died, but now she can't remember which.
--Surely he must sense her discomfort, riding high like oil on water. If he'd decided to kill himself, she would have realized it as he thought it. If not before.
Wouldn't she?
Replacing him would be problematic, thinks the smallest part of her, but it's remote enough a thought to be just an echo - low enough even to her mind that it's probably easy to miss.]
no subject
The effect is something like three version of deja vu and for a split second she's aware enough to be unsettled by it. What has the reason been for stopping these little meetings? Someone had died, but now she can't remember which.
--Surely he must sense her discomfort, riding high like oil on water. If he'd decided to kill himself, she would have realized it as he thought it. If not before.
Wouldn't she?
Replacing him would be problematic, thinks the smallest part of her, but it's remote enough a thought to be just an echo - low enough even to her mind that it's probably easy to miss.]