Something strange was in the process of happening here: Porphyria was not usually, of the pair of them, the one to be disconcerted. Or rather, actually – she was never the disconcerted one.
But November had just clasped her hand. And let it go, and held it again. Phyri’s gaze was still on Ophelia’s headstone, ostensibly, but her mind was on their hands. There was a little of the grave dirt on her hand still, from where she had been crumbling it; some had probably pressed from her palm to November’s. Maybe that was why?
“She would,” Phyri murmured in agreement. And she didn’t know if the soil was the reason, but it felt natural enough and not so much an imposition, now that she had progressed past surprise: she interlaced their fingers, experimentally. “Your hand is cold,” she remarked. Whether that was because hers felt a little unusually warm, or because they had been talking about ghosts, she couldn’t say.
But November had just clasped her hand. And let it go, and held it again. Phyri’s gaze was still on Ophelia’s headstone, ostensibly, but her mind was on their hands. There was a little of the grave dirt on her hand still, from where she had been crumbling it; some had probably pressed from her palm to November’s. Maybe that was why?
“She would,” Phyri murmured in agreement. And she didn’t know if the soil was the reason, but it felt natural enough and not so much an imposition, now that she had progressed past surprise: she interlaced their fingers, experimentally. “Your hand is cold,” she remarked. Whether that was because hers felt a little unusually warm, or because they had been talking about ghosts, she couldn’t say.
a sublime set by Lady! <3