( where his look had begun to soften her, the direction of the conversation does not—she lays her comb down, harder than she'd intended to do, turning upon the stool with her hair half-undone and her gaze flat and suspicious of where this is going.
he's going to win beleth over by convincing her that gwenaëlle might bear elves?
her silence is not relenting. she would hear for herself exactly where this is going. if he so much as thinks her mother's name.
her fists clench in her lap. she doesn't contain the faint, derisive sound at the idea of elros having any credibility, about anything— )
no subject
he's going to win beleth over by convincing her that gwenaëlle might bear elves?
her silence is not relenting. she would hear for herself exactly where this is going. if he so much as thinks her mother's name.
her fists clench in her lap. she doesn't contain the faint, derisive sound at the idea of elros having any credibility, about anything— )