[ Zephirin attributes Francel's briefly downcast look to the clouds yet gathered over the future ahead as Lord Chlodebaimt convalesces, but they can do little more than wait and pray. Francel soon seems content once more, at least, resting with his head in Zephirin's lap, eyes closed.
Some part of Zephirin's heart is glad for the excuse that the House Haillenarte chirurgeon's orders provide — he may permit himself this moment. His posture relaxes. He brushes a lock of Francel's hair into place. ]
no subject
Some part of Zephirin's heart is glad for the excuse that the House Haillenarte chirurgeon's orders provide — he may permit himself this moment. His posture relaxes. He brushes a lock of Francel's hair into place. ]
I must warn you to expect no mercy.
[ Perhaps this, too, is a lie. ]