But she shakes her head. "To Antiva, to connect with a contact, I—" and Alexandrie bites her lip, breathes out.
"Colin, I do not know where he is," she says, soft and urgent. Her hands shift against each other; Loki's nervous habit, now hers. "His last letter came from near Marnas Pell, but that was two weeks ago and when he flies as the raven does it is as the raven." She thins her lips worriedly, then breathes slowly out as if she could remove her thoughts through it. "I trust that whatever it is he gets into he is well able to retrieve himself from. Perhaps I shall get a letter tomorrow. Perhaps he shall arrive tomorrow and pull me into his arms and chuckle fondly at my worries and kiss me until I laugh too." For that, an adoring smile. Which fades.
"But today I have a love somewhere who would hold me if he could, and one here who can and will not.
"And so I," she looks up and manages another real smile— small and warm because it is for Colin— "shall ask if I might go to Antiva and drink wine with a nervous man until he is no longer nervous, and write you fond letters and bring you whatever it is you wish."
A soft smile. Two years ago, he would already be bracing himself to lose her. That's what would have happened in the Circle, he supposes. This isn't the Circle, and Lexie will never find him easy to discard.
"I wish I could go with you. I've only seen Antiva in passing, when I was a ship's purser. My mother talked about it all the time."
She sets the tea aside and holds her hand out, an ask for his.
"Ah, mon chou. I should ask if I might take you with me, then, save that..." There is a sheen in her eyes again, a little tremble in her smile. "Is it selfish of me? To wish for a little while to be in a town where none have seen me cry?"
She leans to kiss his hand, squeezing it once again before she lets go. "Yes."
But when she sits up again something in her skirts crinkles, and her gaze drops to the floor. Hands return to her lap. "I will... sit here a while longer. I think. Until it is dark." A pause, and then "Will that disturb you?"
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"Colin, I do not know where he is," she says, soft and urgent. Her hands shift against each other; Loki's nervous habit, now hers. "His last letter came from near Marnas Pell, but that was two weeks ago and when he flies as the raven does it is as the raven." She thins her lips worriedly, then breathes slowly out as if she could remove her thoughts through it. "I trust that whatever it is he gets into he is well able to retrieve himself from. Perhaps I shall get a letter tomorrow. Perhaps he shall arrive tomorrow and pull me into his arms and chuckle fondly at my worries and kiss me until I laugh too." For that, an adoring smile. Which fades.
"But today I have a love somewhere who would hold me if he could, and one here who can and will not.
"And so I," she looks up and manages another real smile— small and warm because it is for Colin— "shall ask if I might go to Antiva and drink wine with a nervous man until he is no longer nervous, and write you fond letters and bring you whatever it is you wish."
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"I wish I could go with you. I've only seen Antiva in passing, when I was a ship's purser. My mother talked about it all the time."
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"Ah, mon chou. I should ask if I might take you with me, then, save that..." There is a sheen in her eyes again, a little tremble in her smile. "Is it selfish of me? To wish for a little while to be in a town where none have seen me cry?"
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“And I’m the only spirit healer here. I doubt I’d be spared. Maybe after the war, we’ll travel there together.”
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But when she sits up again something in her skirts crinkles, and her gaze drops to the floor. Hands return to her lap. "I will... sit here a while longer. I think. Until it is dark." A pause, and then "Will that disturb you?"
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“So long as you don’t mind me cooking enough for you to eat, too. Just in case you’re hungry.”
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For a moment she looks at him with a genuine softness, murmurs "Thank you."
And then she looks at the sea.