seaboard: (⌜𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐⌟)
𝕘𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕒 𝕤𝕥. 𝕝𝕠𝕖 | ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ-ꜱᴇᴀ ([personal profile] seaboard) wrote in [personal profile] somatosensory 2024-04-19 02:31 pm (UTC)

Until then.

[ She leaves it there, where she sits nursing her glass in slow long mouthfuls where she drains the heavy liquor in sips. It is easy to see what she meant when he does arrive, the felled tree in the yard was shattered, as if hit by the great force, splintered in the shatter at the base, laying flat across the yard like a toppled grave-marker.

When she hears the knock, it is an empty expression that greets him, her skin a pallid tone of exhaustion, that strained red of her eyes in the dim fire-light of the room. Her daygown wraps her shapeless but comfortable over her shift, her hair loose in one long braid, and the air is thick with sea-salt. Waving him in, she does her best attempt to be something like cordial. ]


Thank you. Would you... would you like anything? I have food made, or uhm - [ Shuts her eyes, struggles hard to think it through, as if there could not be more a sign of state than how courteous she always tried to be, and yet how little she could muster the order she knew to do it in. ] - uhm, something to warm you?

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