when they tell you you are made of stars, tell them you know.

[elegiaque]

WHO: Gwenaëlle Vauquelin, Petrana de Cedoux, Benevenuta Thevenet & Galatea Lourdes + SPECIAL GUEST: YOU.
WHAT: A Wintermarch catch-all.
WHEN: Wintermarch.
WHERE: Kirkwall.
NOTES: Somewhere for me to put planned, closed threads! Hit me up on keanuleaves or libbitybibbit#8828 if you desire one.

Comments

[elegiaque]

( It startles a laugh out of her that softens some of the harsher edges, the stiff and sudden way she's been moving—it suits her better, so there's that. )

That would serve them all right, ( she opines, as Hardie slowly lays back down, his legs sprawled out towards the fireside keeping them warm; probably nothing is about to go terribly wrong again. Leviathan the nug nestles down again too, currently trying to live a little nug life on the top of Hardie's back, and at least Galadriel doesn't also have to endure the incessant repetition of the birds.

They, mercifully, have been relegated to the room Gwenaëlle officially occupies, where Yva and most of her luggage reside. ) If we just left.

( Someone put her in a glorified cupboard. )

[laurenande]

Ah but should he find us there would be no end to the letters.

[Or his attempting to lure her into reading his heart from afar, but she is not seriously entertaining the idea of running away. She glances sidelong at Gwenaëlle as she twists the fine thread between her fingers. The woman is stiff, drawn taut and restless, and Galadriel finds she can blame her little. She has had a very trying time.

Convincing someone as strong willed as Gwenaëlle to relax would be rather like attacking a stone wall with harsh language. Another route, perhaps.]

I find I am growing restless in this place, trapped with the threat of winter all around. I must get out, stretch my legs, and regain some semblance of my strength.

Should I begin training, would you join me. It is a fine distraction.

[And it is a comfortable bit of knowledge, knowing you possess the strength to kill nearly anyone in any given room.]

[elegiaque]

( More comfortable for some than others. Coupe's life would be a lot easier if Gwenaëlle was prepared to look to her own strength for comfort; if she hadn't had to be dragged to it, kicking and screaming every ragged inch. She desires no such knowledge, but she is acutely aware of how many people desire it on her behalf—

Stretching her legs doesn't sound terrible, though. Being a bit stronger, to keep up. A distraction, most of all, when her sewing leaves her mind free to wander and chase itself in circles, when the conversation she'd had with Thranduil could barely be called that and she stares at her writings and feels nothing but frustration, and sometimes something like despair, imagining it read by some Venatori, laughing at the foolish optimism of the fallen who'd imagined a history in need of preservation.

She is being stupid and maudlin. She says, ) I might go stir-crazy if I don't, ( which she imagines is not news to the other woman. )