Calling out sick the first day was the smartest move, but afterwards the work had to continue. She had to leave, returning every night to the house empty, void of company in the wake of that dreadful night despite feeling his eyes on her all day, Meg didn’t spare him a glance. The silence was suffocating, Sylaise did her best to comfort the woman, though knew only one person could soothe the pain. In her fury Meg had set out a bag for him, leaving it at the entranceway and when she returned to it gone, had understood he was at least alive and changing, not wandering the streets in the same set day in day out or dead.
When the word came her house in Arlathan was finished she had taken her time packing. Every nook and corner was searched for anything of hers, unwilling to leave it behind if he didn’t get his head straight. Ruth could sort himself, neither had much since the fire. The ring box had remained behind the cushions, nestled safely in the couch unopened, and would remain so even as she plucked it out. Meg spent a while thinking, staring, tears streaking her face until eventually her mind was made up. They’d always left notes before but currently she was at a loss for the words to leave him with, choosing to say nothing than be cruel. Taking his plant though, yes, that would send a clear message.
It was technically hers to begin with and after mending the crack in its pot, placed it in her new garden. Two days later he’d pinned a note to the communal gardens, the drawing catching her attention at first before recognising his handwriting. Meg chewed her lip, rolling it back and forth as she thought about following his instructions or not. Instead she took out a pencil of her own, scribbling a response herself, and then doing as she was asked.
The plant acquired and safely nestled in her satchel, she read the next one with a scoff still continuing the quest and finding the third soon after. Each note was quietly read, her face softening, recalling things from years past before she’d scribble down her own reply and moved on.
When she reached the main safehouse it was of course Danny who greeted her, presenting the elf with the final clue. Offering the lad a small smile, Meg shook her head, of course he wasn’t here and after reading the letter knew where exactly to find him.
She’d returned to the garden often after the blast that rocked Kirkwall, a small sanctuary tucked away from the destruction a few streets away. In more recent years her visits had faded into rarer occasions, life and work taking her away from the City of Chains to eventually Arlathan. Megara led the way, honestly not caring how closely Danny followed, or if he kept up with the twists and turns until she stopped in front of the low gate bordering the first place they talked.
@Nairn
When the word came her house in Arlathan was finished she had taken her time packing. Every nook and corner was searched for anything of hers, unwilling to leave it behind if he didn’t get his head straight. Ruth could sort himself, neither had much since the fire. The ring box had remained behind the cushions, nestled safely in the couch unopened, and would remain so even as she plucked it out. Meg spent a while thinking, staring, tears streaking her face until eventually her mind was made up. They’d always left notes before but currently she was at a loss for the words to leave him with, choosing to say nothing than be cruel. Taking his plant though, yes, that would send a clear message.
It was technically hers to begin with and after mending the crack in its pot, placed it in her new garden. Two days later he’d pinned a note to the communal gardens, the drawing catching her attention at first before recognising his handwriting. Meg chewed her lip, rolling it back and forth as she thought about following his instructions or not. Instead she took out a pencil of her own, scribbling a response herself, and then doing as she was asked.
The plant acquired and safely nestled in her satchel, she read the next one with a scoff still continuing the quest and finding the third soon after. Each note was quietly read, her face softening, recalling things from years past before she’d scribble down her own reply and moved on.
When she reached the main safehouse it was of course Danny who greeted her, presenting the elf with the final clue. Offering the lad a small smile, Meg shook her head, of course he wasn’t here and after reading the letter knew where exactly to find him.
You can walk me there Danny, but the minute we get to the gate you can go.An audience, even just Danny, would be too much added pressure.
She’d returned to the garden often after the blast that rocked Kirkwall, a small sanctuary tucked away from the destruction a few streets away. In more recent years her visits had faded into rarer occasions, life and work taking her away from the City of Chains to eventually Arlathan. Megara led the way, honestly not caring how closely Danny followed, or if he kept up with the twists and turns until she stopped in front of the low gate bordering the first place they talked.
@Nairn
05-31-2024, 05:34 PM
