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[rowancrowned]

 

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[elegiaque]

Gwenaëlle, ( she says, an offer (it's not stopped being strange to hear him call her that), but not one that she presses on him; she nearly offers her hand, to shake or to steady, and then curls her fingers underneath the edge of her desk and allows the impulse to pass without acting on it.

absorbs the apology, the spirit it's meant in, and how fucking disorienting this must be for him—

a stranger who has seen beneath his glamour. she would feel vulnerable, in his place. it isn't hers, any more, to bolster him out of it. )

I won't keep you. Thank you for hearing me out, and—

( an exhalation. )

If anyone gives you trouble about it, I'll deal with it.

( she doesn't really think thranduil is going to let her fight his battles for him, now any more than then, but she feels a bit at sea not to at least— it feels like her responsibility. she has to at least say.

maybe they'll have things to say to each other, in time, that are easier. )