Her stomach growled and she dove into the pastry with the greediness of a small child, sending crumbs running down the front of her cloak as she struggled to find balance with both of her hands now full.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, grateful for both his simple kindness and the words of pride he shared about the work that occupied her days. They descended the granite steps at a leisurely pace, until Vincent paused and pulled a small broach from his pocket. Her eyes widened, sending signals of both pleasure and irritation that he had decided to do this when her mouth was full of food.
Sabine swallowed with vague discomfort and tossed what little was left of the pastry to a lone pigeon. She absent-mindedly brushed at her clothes as she eyed the small gift Vincent held out in his hands. It was a silver broach with a perfectly round kyanite gem set into its center. Four jagged bolts seemed to radiate out from the gem, as if inside it brewed a small storm desperate to be freed.
She shifted her loose hair away from her shoulder – a wordless invitation for him to clasp the broach to her cloak. “It’s beautiful, and it’s far too much,” she said. But her words contained no malice, and as she reached out to take his hand into hers, it would become clear that she intended to keep this gift.
A small spatter of rain landed on Vincent’s nose and she cracked a grin. “Your turn, now. Let’s find a shelter first.”
If he agreed, they would continue down the Pilgrim’s Ascent in quiet conversation until they reached an opening that led into the Glass Quarter. She pulled him along with her to the closest overhand – a small roof jutting out from a bar that sat nearest to the stairs.
“Okay,” she said, handing him the package wrapped in burlap and twine. “Open it.”
When he touched the gift, it would become clear that there was clothing inside. And there was – a navy wool cloak, thickly lined with matching blue cotton. The hood was trimmed with wolf’s fur and a black fastener was sewn near the neck. It wasn’t fancy, but it was warm and suited to the Rharnian style.
“Happy 12 Trials,” she murmured, reaching out to pull him close if he would let her.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, grateful for both his simple kindness and the words of pride he shared about the work that occupied her days. They descended the granite steps at a leisurely pace, until Vincent paused and pulled a small broach from his pocket. Her eyes widened, sending signals of both pleasure and irritation that he had decided to do this when her mouth was full of food.
Sabine swallowed with vague discomfort and tossed what little was left of the pastry to a lone pigeon. She absent-mindedly brushed at her clothes as she eyed the small gift Vincent held out in his hands. It was a silver broach with a perfectly round kyanite gem set into its center. Four jagged bolts seemed to radiate out from the gem, as if inside it brewed a small storm desperate to be freed.
She shifted her loose hair away from her shoulder – a wordless invitation for him to clasp the broach to her cloak. “It’s beautiful, and it’s far too much,” she said. But her words contained no malice, and as she reached out to take his hand into hers, it would become clear that she intended to keep this gift.
A small spatter of rain landed on Vincent’s nose and she cracked a grin. “Your turn, now. Let’s find a shelter first.”
If he agreed, they would continue down the Pilgrim’s Ascent in quiet conversation until they reached an opening that led into the Glass Quarter. She pulled him along with her to the closest overhand – a small roof jutting out from a bar that sat nearest to the stairs.
“Okay,” she said, handing him the package wrapped in burlap and twine. “Open it.”
When he touched the gift, it would become clear that there was clothing inside. And there was – a navy wool cloak, thickly lined with matching blue cotton. The hood was trimmed with wolf’s fur and a black fastener was sewn near the neck. It wasn’t fancy, but it was warm and suited to the Rharnian style.
“Happy 12 Trials,” she murmured, reaching out to pull him close if he would let her.
Off Topic
Reviewer's Note: -22gn, 5sn for the cloak.
