The opportunity to have a private conversation with Morgana doesn't come as swiftly as she'd like- not when there are so many things to attend to, around the girl's visit and everything else. First her presence must be explained; interrupted by Marpesia on their way upstairs, Petra is forced to think on her feet and god bless her daughters for ( Read more... )

The inarguable strangeness of the situation dictates two things. First, that it must be discussed- and second, that Petra has no real desire to do so. Knowing that a conversation must happen unfortunately has nothing to do with whether or not one knows precisely how to go about it, and she's uncomfortably aware that Davidias's willingness to put it ( Read more... )

The buttery-warm light of late afternoon a ways away from the vineyard seems to soften the whole day, moments running together and the ease of it all making it so easy to forget what's waiting when they return to Cimmura. For a few hours, nobody needs either of them and Martel has a bottle of the wine they came to taste in his lap, his head resting ( Read more... )

Every now and again there are events that touch many lives instead of the usual one or two. This is less of a ripple than it is a blast radius, as these things can be ( Read more... )

( Anxiety is love's greatest killer. It makes one feel as you might when a drowning man holds unto you. You want to save him, but you know he will strangle you with his panic. )

"Petrana."

"I will put him out shortly," she says serenely, with her hands at her earrings and not turning to see what it is that he's looking at. She knowsA moment of silence, then, and Petra doesn't have to look because he's come to stand behind her at the mirror, occupying himself sweeping her hair aside so he can unlock the clasp of her ( Read more... )

"Oh, no, no, no-"

With one hand out in front of her and the other looking for what's behind her as she hurries backwards in a tangle of her own skirts, Petra shakes her head and thinks briefly, madly, that her broad and relieved smile is probably not bolstering her authority. "No," she says, more firmly and losing ground, "you reek of metal and ( Read more... )

( the world's decay where the wind's hands have passed and my head worn out with love at rest in my hands and my hands full of dust o my lady )

( The New, Improved Character Survey of Doom )

( oh lovely matter dry-winged rose as i drown i climb your petals my feet are burning with fatigue i kneel down in your hard cathedral thrashing my lips with an angel )