[ Shadowheart plucks a raspberry before taking the plate properly, hums in thought as she presses it to her lips. ]
I'm sure you're right. [ Though there's a small knot in her brow that suggests otherwise, her gaze drifting somewhere past the fluttering curtain. Half of oneself. For a moment, she knows with utter clarity that she's had access to so much less: closer to a blank slate, all her years on this earth wiped clean.
The feeling passes, but it leaves her cold. Shadowheart sets the desserts down on their small breakfast table, hardly touched, and gets to her feet, her hands sweeping up Emmrich's chest to cup his jaw. ]
Should we see about that bath? [ Without her heels, she nearly has to rise on tiptoe to reach him. Shadowheart grasps at a memory, as her thumb gentles in the hollow of his cheek: how she used to ride on Emmrich's shoulders, when he was a teenager and she was still small. There was a trellis with night-blooming datura in their family's garden, and he'd steady her so she could reach the tallest one. Shadowheart can still conjure the scent of them, real as anything--not a blank slate, not a lost year. ]
no subject
I'm sure you're right. [ Though there's a small knot in her brow that suggests otherwise, her gaze drifting somewhere past the fluttering curtain. Half of oneself. For a moment, she knows with utter clarity that she's had access to so much less: closer to a blank slate, all her years on this earth wiped clean.
The feeling passes, but it leaves her cold. Shadowheart sets the desserts down on their small breakfast table, hardly touched, and gets to her feet, her hands sweeping up Emmrich's chest to cup his jaw. ]
Should we see about that bath? [ Without her heels, she nearly has to rise on tiptoe to reach him. Shadowheart grasps at a memory, as her thumb gentles in the hollow of his cheek: how she used to ride on Emmrich's shoulders, when he was a teenager and she was still small. There was a trellis with night-blooming datura in their family's garden, and he'd steady her so she could reach the tallest one. Shadowheart can still conjure the scent of them, real as anything--not a blank slate, not a lost year. ]