I joined Naval Presence officially when we got back, ( in agreement, contemplative and her mood a little strange with it, but likely no stranger than anyone else's, just now. at times lexie feels like a mirror held up, reminding her what her reflection used to be—it's selfish, probably, that she's more at ease with her as the war leaves its mark in ways she understands, that are familiar.
it's neither kind nor unkind—she did not wish it, she can tell herself that and have it be true—but it's natural, and nature is unmoral. they understand each other. there was no one like that for her, at the start; patience, but different kinds. it's not good, exactly, that lexie goes through this or that gwenaëlle did—it's happened, though, and they're here.
they don't go far: guilfoyle had not wished his quarters to be far out of reach, if needed. he rises, somehow impeccable in shirtsleeves with his whetstone and blades, query implied in his impassive expression. )
May we have the room, Felix? I don't want to be bothered.
( an inclination of his head—a murmured mademoiselle—and he will not go far now, either, so if lexie needs to be poured into a carriage later there will be a sober pair of hands ready to do it. but he closes the door behind himself, gives them privacy. it's an impersonal but comfortable space, and she sweeps them down in front of the hearth; empty, too warm for a fire. )
no subject
it's neither kind nor unkind—she did not wish it, she can tell herself that and have it be true—but it's natural, and nature is unmoral. they understand each other. there was no one like that for her, at the start; patience, but different kinds. it's not good, exactly, that lexie goes through this or that gwenaëlle did—it's happened, though, and they're here.
they don't go far: guilfoyle had not wished his quarters to be far out of reach, if needed. he rises, somehow impeccable in shirtsleeves with his whetstone and blades, query implied in his impassive expression. )
May we have the room, Felix? I don't want to be bothered.
( an inclination of his head—a murmured mademoiselle—and he will not go far now, either, so if lexie needs to be poured into a carriage later there will be a sober pair of hands ready to do it. but he closes the door behind himself, gives them privacy. it's an impersonal but comfortable space, and she sweeps them down in front of the hearth; empty, too warm for a fire. )