Not gonna let 'em catch the Midnight Rider.

Hey I am actually reading.

After 1177 B.C.: The Survival of Civilizations by Eric H. Cline, part of the Turning Points in Ancient History series, is currently 27% read. Given I began it last night... not bad.

I will probably check out the other books; the collapse of the Bronze Age has long been of interest to me. My largest concern is too much leaning into the Bible, referring to the Tanakh as "the Hebrew Bible", and I got weirded by calling a Jewish archaeologist as having been "ordained" as a Rabbi. I did not think that was the word.

Coolest factoid so far? The resurgent Assyrian Empire of the era had a Pony Express, with mule riders.

AO3 Link | Touching History as We Go (1014 words) by Merfilly
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Drizzt Do'Urden/Alustriel Silverhand
Characters: Alustriel Silverhand, Drizzt Do'Urden
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Disguises, Grief/Mourning, Inspired by Poetry
Series: Part 9 of Legacy of the Silver Marches
Summary:

Drizzt and Alustriel, in their guises as Gavren and Brielle, on their trek to Silverymoon pass where Methri fell.

From Twilight Calm - Christina Rossetti

But evening now is done
As much as if the sun
Day-giving had arisen in the East:
For night has come; and the great calm has ceased,
The quiet sands have run.

Touching History as We Go

Death comes to all in turn, they say. I have seen it swiftly, I have seen it come slow. Never do I touch its presence without some emotion. Relief, in cases of enemies that would not turn from their path. Sorrow, for the ones it takes by choking off the time ahead of them. Shock, when it braces a young one in their prime.

But I can see it is a needful thing. Not merely for the natural order of things, but for cleansing the way to new thought, new deeds, new ways. Something in age clogs many minds from adapting, changing as thoughts lead in new directions. I find peace in the idea that, when my life is at an end, there will be those who knew of me, of my Companions, who tell the tales we made.

I but hope that they remember not only the daring deeds, but the cautionary mishaps as well.

— Drizzt Do'Urden

---

The travelers kept their hoods low, even as they knew it would take a powerful magic user to discern their identities. The tavern was quiet and only half-full, but a bard had taken the stage and begun a quiet ballad.

"Someone knows history," the woman said after listening to the first bars.

"As told," the man said with a sigh. "They'll leave out how close it was for him at the end."

"Hmm, likely. But in this day and age, from all we've seen so far, they need to know of heroes, have them to look up to and be inspired by."

He looked at her, his eyes dancing with mirth. "I'll remember that when you protest the ballads composed of your sacrifices and leadership."

"Oh, I've had plenty of time to grow accustomed to such. But you, my dear ranger… what will you do when you hear of your own deeds sung with lusty bardic vigor?"

"Make a nuisance of myself trying to inject truth in the matter," he said, smiling before he applied spoon to bowl, rather than focus on the tale of a wizard he'd known during the Gods' War.

---

Brielle pulled up short, making Gavren turn back to her. Her face spoke of anguish, and he sucked in a deep breath. The lingering magical traces in this land spoke of past battles, but for her… it had to have been personal.

"What is it, my star?"

"The staff of Silverymoon." She gave up pretense of being able to move from this spot, dropping down on her knees, hands going into the barren soil. Her eyes scanned out, taking note of the vague hillocks and depressions, signs of things buried in haste and rotted away after.

Gavren came and knelt in front of her, drawing her head to his shoulder. With a mere thought, he called to their dear astral friend and Guenhwyvar appeared, no longer constrained by the figure of wondrous power. She took up guard over them in this desolate place, letting him hold his beloved as she mourned.

"Silverymoon's last defense to the west," he murmured. "Your son being impossibly strong-willed and ending the fight that occurred, but at such cost." He stroked down her hair, letting her cry it out. There would be moments like this, over and over, as they wandered the realms in their new guises. Both had been too embroiled in the Gods' War, had known too many of the major players in the pitched battles and back-room scheming.

"Methri made so many mistakes, and yet… he did believe in the people and ideas of Silverymoon and the Silver Marches." She settled back on her heels, reaching up to wipe at her face with a cloth pulled out of her cloak's pocket.

"He did, on both accounts. But we all did, the mistakes making. And for many of us, it was the belief in our people, in each other, that gave us the strength to push through what the gods did to us all in their own madnesses." Gavren stroked her face, then tucked a braid back behind her ear. "It is hardest, in some ways, for you about Methri. Because he was your heir, following in your footsteps."

She sniffled, then nodded. "Once the Refuge took Tyresia from him, he threw himself into everything of Silverymoon I would allow. And he won the position by the vote, when Taern died, so it was on his own merit. I just never saw how deeply his caution could cut across the allies we'd made."

"You cannot second-guess him from this point of history," Gavren told her, placing a kiss on her brow. "All either of us can do is try to help the rebuilding we see, give aid to those who still have the vision of a future that holds knowledge and compassion in the highest regard."

"And use what we knew as truth to provide the bitter stories of how even goodly traits can lead to the wrong choices?" Brielle questioned, before sighing. "Yes, even that will be needed, especially with what we've learned so far of the rising powers in the lands."

"Any trait may be a strength or a weakness," Gavren told her. "You and I can press that point as it is needed. But. For now… we're not so far from the Silverwood, and we can be inside the city by nightfall?"

She considered, then shook her head. "Unless the traces are bothering you, let us stay here, so I can meditate, and be certain he has not become a weave ghost tied to this place?"

"Of course, my star." He pushed back to his feet, a look at Guen bringing her closer. The panther pushed into the moon-elf's space, prompting a small laugh and much petting, while Gavren saw to setting camp. They would tend to the needful matters, and move on to the city where at least one of their children was building anew.

Perhaps, in putting her own sense of Methri to rest, it would help Brielle be ready for the fresh start they had promised one another in truth.

AO3 Link | One Two THREE Force Born?! (1609 words) by Merfilly
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker, Mace Windu, Sheev Palpatine | Emperor Palpatine | Darth Sidious
Additional Tags: Crack Treated Seriously, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Kriffing Sith Plans
Summary:

It's Padmé with the nightmares, and a plan to head it all off.

One Two THREE Force Born?!

Padmé Amidala was a woman on a mission. Anakin might be completely in a panic over the pregnancy but she was going to head this off. It was just too convenient that she was now being plagued with dreams of her own death, the very night after an unavoidable dinner with the man she had a growing distaste for.

And, deep where she would never tell her husband, she had a nasty suspicion he was trying to shove Anakin off a cliff of irredeemable violence. The Chancellor might not have commented on her state, but his eyes were not as easily fooled by their shared heritage of concealing fashion.

Today, she was going to go enlist the aid of the Jedi, while Anakin was tied up being the poster boy of the GAR. She had all of her diplomatic shields in place, and had the perfect cover story to do this with.

After all, with Jedi having lost so many, surely the Force would be interested in adding a few more children to the future.

---

Vokara Che was every bit as imposing in her domain as Anakin had said. However, her status as a long time ally had convinced Master Fisto to bring her down to the Healer's Wing. She had pleaded with him, and the healer, that there could not be a father, not when she was a mature woman who knew how to guard against such!

"You were correct that the pregnancy is heavily Force-influenced," Vokara said after several minutes of making Padmé wonder if the healer was going to break her constructed version of events. "You are carrying two very healthy, very Force-active fetuses."

Two. TWO?!

She was not going to faint like the damsel of a holo-drama. "Thank you, Master Che. Given my precarious positioning within the advocates for peace, and past attempts, I could not, in all honesty, acquire medical aid in the typical fashion. Given how my dreams are affected, and having such strange hunches of late, I turned to your Temple in hope."

"A wise choice." For a long moment, Vokara held her eyes, and Padmé knew that the healer was not actually buying the spontaneous pregnancy. A twitch of the lekku, however, indicated the secret was safe. "These hunches, I believe that Master Windu should possibly help sort them out with you."

Oh. Well, that might be the right way to go as well.

---

Kit, even before the appointment in medical had ended, had gone to find his age-mate. He did so in one of the botanical rooms. "Master Windu," he began. "And Master Yoda," he added to be polite, despite the ancient peering at one of the plants intently.

"Hmm," came over top of Mace's cautious "Master Fisto", and Kit grinned a little that his creche-mate had already detected the mild mischief Kit was feeling.

They all needed a little bit of amusement.

"Senator Amidala has come, and is being tended to by Master Che," Kit began, and both men looked sharply at him. "I do wonder about that old prophecy that was discussed when Master Jinn found a boy on a desert world with no father… as she is here to see about a Force-induced pregnancy as well."

Yoda's ears went flat, Mace's eyes narrowed, and Kit merely smiled.

---

Mace looked at the woman who had been a solid ally, and the subject of not a small part of gossip. He did not, for a moment, believe the story of no father, but in her political setting, it was for the best to go along with it.

"Master Che said you have been plagued by hunches of late, ones that play out true."

He set a mild tisane in front of her, and took a second one for himself.

"I think the Force has concerns about the path we are on, despite recent developments. After all, if the Count has been neutralized, and Master Kenobi is on the trail of their general… who will keep the momentum up to line pockets with war money, and build such sizable powers through war-time legislation?" Amidala asked, meeting the man's eyes squarely. "I am all but certain you and your peers have had the same intuitions."

Was she — had she —

Maybe Skywalker had been more circumspect than Mace had believed. For all that Amidala was firmly an adherent of a peaceful resolution, her physical and vocal cues were running in tandem with the Council's own suspicions.

"Perhaps we are looking in that same direction," he said.

"If the other Sith, the one Dooku spoke of on our side, is out there, I am certain he would try to harm those touched so firmly by the Light Side as ones fathered by the Force," Amidala told him. "I shudder to think of what such a being might have done had they had access to your Knight Skywalker for all the years of this phantom menace over us."

That, Mace decided, was both accusation and… an invitation to look more closely at how the cards were laid out.

And he had to admit she had a point.

---

"Anakin!"

"Chancellor."

"I do hope the scandal hasn't harmed your friendship with the Senator."

"What scandal?"

The exchange, handled in the hearing of several itinerant reporters, brought their elder statesman up short, until someone added the right question.

"That she's pregnant with no father in sight," the reporter with blood money in his pockets called out.

"You really think Senator Amidala would stoop to such petty, low-brow nonsense?" Anakin asked them, in his best 'are you kidding me' voice, and he caught the frown on his old 'friend'. He was so glad Saesse Tiin had been able and willing to explore the past several years in his head. "She's having children as the will of the Force, and we Jedi take that kind of thing very seriously."

He then kept walking, leaving the Chancellor stewing, the reporters trying to digest how to spin this, and a feeling that he could not have handled it that way without the Council all suddenly intent on supporting him. He didn't know what had changed there, but he couldn't wait to tell Obi-Wan all about it.

And the Force Twins, because he had to admit, he really hadn't had a lot of time, and they both used precautions.

---

Chancellor Sheev Palpatine was in a fury. He had primed the well perfectly, and somehow… somehow every insinuation and control he'd put in place had been cut off in the Chosen One. All because of some insane story concocted by the woman that had long since outlived her usefulness.

Any day now, that wretched Kenobi would be returning, and Sheev would have to find a different way to acquire everything he wanted… unless he acted now? He went to his desk to find the comm unit. He needed to provoke the right circumstance, to make it clear he was saving them from the Jedi, but what would it take?

The comm lit up in his hand.

What?

With the Force, he flipped the hood of his cape up, securing it to conceal his features, and turned it on.

"What do you know, that frequency is picked up, Commander," came the very annoying, should-be-dead voice of the Togruta menace. He hastily turned it off, throwing it into the back of the locked drawers.

The knocking at the door that came next, including a call of 'Coruscant Security' sent chills down his back.

He wondered idly if his own Master had felt this the night Sheev had gleefully murdered him.

---

Mace pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked over at the newest Master of the Council who was pretending he didn't want to hurry out and see a certain Senator. He then looked at Kenobi, who was waiting to be briefed on how and why the Chancellor had been killed in the midst of being served with detention papers.

"A tip from an ally told us to double check Skywalker for undue influence," Kit said, looking entirely too merry in the telling.

"Padmé," Anakin offered cheerfully. "She's having Force twins."

Mace did not groan. It really did sound like Skywalker believed that.

"Removing that," Saesee said, "let us more clearly see the shape of a possible end game, orchestrated to cast us all as traitors."

"Meanwhile, Skywalker's commander had been working on another angle of the endgame," Agen said.

"Leading him and Tano to turning up a plan to make the man expose himself, using the very tools meant to kill us all," Kit said, "by triggering a comm device he should not have had while we were keeping him very securely under comm surveillance with Naboo's and CorSec's cooperation."

"How did you get CorSec to agree to such?" Kenobi asked.

"Amidala implied that she had noticed a malevolent presence while dining with the man, and could they please keep it under wraps that there could be such a threat near the center of government?" Shaak Ti said, eyes dancing with mirth.

"A very tidy end, I suppose." Kenobi then looked at Mace with a deadpan face. "So, how are those prophecies handling the idea of three Force-fathered children?"

Mace did not, as he wanted to, flip the man's hood over his head with the Force.

---

Padmé smiled, despite fatigue, as she held her daughter, and Anakin held her son. Eventually, they might admit the farce.

Then again, listening to Anakin telling Luke all about the wonders of what the Force could do…

… maybe it was better to leave it at this. What really mattered was that they were all saved from the Sith.

Hi all. Today I wound up in the Pit of Despair, and since I know years 2020-2024 will be light, I am doing numbers 46-50 in one go to get A Thing Off My Plate.

( #46 - 2020: 2 )

( #47 - 2021: 3 )

( #48 - 2022: 0 )

( #49 - 2023: 1 )

( #50 - 2024: 2 )

I have caught up on my circle, but barely commented. Still digesting national news (rage) and unofficial anecdata via work (grief concerning mortality in children and this "cold" that seems to be nationwide).

That said, I will leave the comments open to anyone who wants to prompt me for a drabble in a fandom I know or for original concepts. I will, however, screen them.

Format something like "Fandom/Character(s)/Simple Prompt" or "Original Genre/Character Archetype(s)/Simple Prompt". Include your name on AO3, SquidgeWorld, Ad Astra, or CFFA if it is fannish and you want it gifted.

We Will Persevere.

AO3 Link | In the Demon's Claws (2219 words) by Merfilly
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Drizzt Do'Urden & Vierna Do'Urden
Characters: Drizzt Do'Urden, Vierna Do'Urden
Additional Tags: Ensemble Cast, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Typical Violence, Resurrection
Summary:

Things in the Hall went slightly different, but still Drizzt chooses the road, and learns of one more quest.

In the Demon's Claws

Drizzt Do'Urden gazed out over the lands, thinking about everything endured. If Regis had not escaped sooner — no, it didn't bear thinking about. What he knew had let them disarm the trap, though not without personal cost for Drizzt himself. He had caused his father's death, brought about the deaths of his House from afar, and now… personally slain his sister, both by dam and sire.

His only consolation had been seeing her less a zealot, more sane in her eyes even, as the light faded, letting him cast true blame upon Lloth once more. It had been Catti-brie who supposed the entire raid had been concocted as but one thread of a web, given how near it had been to losing Wulfgar to the yochlol, how strange that they had chosen to come for Drizzt inside the dwarven stronghold rather than upon the road some night when he would be alone.

Bruenor had thundered, and Wulfgar had pledged support, with Regis managing advice based on his studying Artemis Entreri while the human consorted with drow. Aid had come from the region, and it would be a long time before Menzoberranzan could stir from its cesspool of hate and anger.

Catti and Wulfgar needed to work upon their relationship. Regis still had much recovery to make from his ordeal. Bruenor had a much expanded clan to lead to prominence.

Drizzt?

He looked back to the road for salvation from that which ate at his soul. A passing remark from one of the Harpells had reminded him of unfinished business concerning a crystal… and a demon that had been defeated once.

---

There had never been any chance of an ending that led anywhere but to the Demonweb Pits, Vierna had known. Either she would arrive in favor, and become one of Lloth's own servitors in some form —

— or she would arrive in full disfavor to be tortured.

She had learned three things as she endured the torture, and then the bartering deal with the balor.

Her father was not in the Demonweb Pits. This had been clear while she was still tortured under the servants of Lolth. He would have been an instrument in those tortures, as she had, again, fallen into that strange emotion surrounding Zaknafein, on seeing how true to himself her brother had remained.

There was the fact that Lloth had never been worth her devotion. This point — she'd had sight of it in the fall of her House — had clarified when the religious madness fell from her eyes even as her brother was lowering her body to the floor. If she had only managed to learn it earlier, and used her power to protect the two males she'd felt strong emotions over!

And, somehow, this balor intended to use her against her brother. Errtu could not keep himself from alternately salivating over his plans against Drizzt Do'Urden or raging in a froth of madness over what the impertinent drow had done to him.

She would just have to help her brother beat the demon at his own game. Vierna was looking forward to his death at Drizzt's hands.

---

Drizzt's concerns about the demon had proven too correct. He finished cleaning Icingdeath, his mind turning over the words spit at him by the fiend before its death. The gloating, brash taunts of what Errtu meant to do with him — after Errtu finished rending the soul of one that Drizzt cared for — had been too in line with what he knew of the balors. They were incapable of getting over a defeat that had been meted out to them.

Only? Errtu had an advantage over him. The only person's soul that could possibly be at risk to the demon was his own father. Drizzt would no more leave the soul in peril than he ever would have risked the man in life, had he but been a little wiser.

He didn't dare not follow up on this, no matter the source. Since Drizzt had left Mithral Hall, burdened by the suffering, deaths, and his own actions, he'd been seeking a purpose. He would recover the damnable crystal, and trek to a land known to hold the knowledge of the ages. Surely he could learn what was needed to save his father and destroy both threats if he but tried hard enough.

With resolve etched in every line of his body and soul, Drizzt plunged into the frozen north once more, intent on his goals.

---

The Crystal Shard couldn't be tricked by Drizzt. Nor could it offer him what he wanted, not in a way that ever tempted the drow. The psychic effect of merely carrying it in a quiescent state was enough to make Drizzt constantly question his own mind as he traveled. Guen, on her visits to the Material Plane, also kept a watchful eye on him.

It was a necessary evil, bait for the demon that was seeking vengeance. After the not-so-minor trouble of getting back to it, finding it, Drizzt was just as relieved to find his next destination after a stop in Longsaddle. He'd kept the artifact's presence carefully hidden, indulged Harpell curiosity as some were in residence now that he had not met before.

"If you're dead set against leaning into the alliances you've made in Silverymoon," Bella began, the brighter eye rolling with what she thought of that and the dull one fixed on him, "you need to head for Tethyr, a small kingdom down there with a cathedral being built.

"The priest of Deneir, Chosen they say, will point you to the knowledge you need to deal with this demon you need to be rid of."

"It seems I should see if Captain Deudermont will aid me in my journeys, then," Drizzt said, not keen on going so far south once again, but he was no priest nor wizard, to be able to banish the demon for good… and with luck, this cleric might well know how to rid the realms of the Crystal Shard.

With the right tools, Drizzt Do'Urden would be willing to wager against the evil ones, and try to reclaim his father's soul from the Abyss.

---

"You could become a cleric of sufficient rank in the decades you have left. Or a wizard of strength," Cadderly mused at Drizzt, even as the wizened Chosen walked beside Drizzt in the garden, aware that Pikel and Ivan both were still keeping an eye on the solitary drow.

"They say time stretches in the Abyss, and I feel that taking the time to do so would further torment the one I seek to rescue. Likewise, I will make no bargain with a Power to become a warlock."

Cadderly looked at Drizzt then, leaning on his staff as they paused. "And yet you refuse your goddess Her offer?"

Drizzt flushed, looking down, and Cadderly knew the ranger had not expected that to be known. When he looked up, it was with an expression of sadness. "She has been good to me, and I will serve Her so long as She walks the path I view as right.

"But I do not trust myself with a spark of who She is."

"Which is of course why She would most want it to be you, for that very distrust, but. You have closed that door — for now — and having a pressing need to save one you care for. The vile artifact's destruction is what you seek, but not before you are able to barter with and defeat the balor.

"A complicated task you have set yourself, but I will set people to the research of it."

"Thank you; it is all I can ask."

---

Vierna felt something change in her captor. He was eager, close to success of some kind? She felt weaker than she had even in the moments after Lloth forsook the House. How could she aid her brother like this?

When the demon back-handed her for daring to spit in his direction, she lolled in her bonds, feigning unconsciousness and made the choice to reach out to a different power. Never again would she submit to the divine… but bargain with one? That she could — and would! — manage.

~Vhaeraun son of Araushnee and Corellon, god of drow,~ she prayed, all of her singular focus on inviting the Named One to take notice of her. Even now, out of favor and having renounced her former goddess, the names burned in her mind, invoking pain.

Pain that she further used to fuel her call to the one that could make her plans work — she would not fail! Her brother, the boy she had taught and raised, needed her, and this time, she was embracing that.

Little did she know that her very need to aid a male sibling was the right spark to bring the god's attention to her.

---

"As long as your darkness holds," Danica coached, "the thing will be destroyed."

Drizzt looked past her to the rather unassuming man with them, very little giving away his draconic nature.

"And Icingdeath will guard me from the flames," he reminded himself.

"Yes, a superb frostbrand," Vaeros said, having inspected the magic on the blade to be certain.

"The breach of magic has made it possible for the balor to come to a simple summoning," Drizzt recited. "I will offer the artifact, and then we will be 'attacked', at which point the crystal will burn while I hold darkness — and evade the enraged demon while protecting my father."

"Presuming that the captive is brought, and that it is your father," Danica agreed. "Should be simple for the drow that decimated Menzoberranzan's might."

Drizzt stared at her, then saw the twitch of her lips, and gave into the laughter at that outrageous elaboration of his part in the war of Mithral Hall.

"We will do this, Ranger, on our shared love of the Wilds," Vaeros said, once the laughter had worn off, with the effect of living Drizzt lighter in spirit.

"So we shall."

---

It was not Zaknafein.

That small fact half-broke Drizzt's willpower at first. He wanted to angrily decry that he didn't care about Vierna.

His heart knew that for a lie.

She looked mangled in the grasp of the demon, and trickles of blood had formed where the clawed hand pierced flesh.

She was conscious, and her eyes locked on his.

Distantly, he could remember the plan even as the sealed case with Crenshinibon hung from an outstretched hand, the demon gloating within the summoning circle.

His mind toured over early, harsh lessons. He recalled the gentle touches that had been rare and treasured. He remembered that someone had to have told Zaknafein of his speed and skill with both hands. He recalled the look of sanity in her eyes, at the end of her life, blood spilling from a wound he'd made in her.

Something in her eyes told him she trusted him, and that she was ready for whatever came next.

"Let her go, and you can have what you want."

"You think I am unaware of the treachery lurking in your soul, drow?" Errtu demanded, hand closing more —

— and Vierna uttered a quick phrase in formal drow, one that called upon Vhaeraun, god of the male drow. The next moment, she was small, transformed into a bat that eluded the demon's grasp, fluttering valiantly into the hood of the cloak Drizzt wore.

He prayed that was enough to protect her, as he gave himself over to the Hunter, Icingdeath more than eager to drink the blood of this balor once more. Errtu had no chance to evade, or even dispel the darkness, as Drizzt furiously fought for his life, the crystal's end, and for the daughter of his father.

---

Vierna awakened at the feeling of healing being pushed into her, the kind that traced fire in her veins, counter to her very nature but helping abate the last tortures' marks upon her.

She found herself looking into the purple eyes that had entranced her since his birth.

"We're in a small cave. I didn't want to impose on my allies," he told her softly. "You turned back to drow after the fight ended."

"I did not ask for it to be a permanent change," Vierna said, but she reached for his hand on her shoulder. "You can heal?"

"If my patron agrees, yes," he said, taking her hand and shifting so he could sit more comfortably and hold it. "Vhaeraun?"

"I promised Him I would become a potent cleric for Him, if He let me aid my troublesome little brother against the balor."

Her smile on those words provoked one from him.

"I thought it was my — our father."

"And yet, you still pushed through with the plan you had made." She squeezed his hand. "We will have peace, Drizzt. I swear it on my continued life."

He contemplated her words a long moment, then laid down on the bedroll, sliding an arm under her neck, tucking close to give her the warmth he had.

"Good. There's been enough strife for us both, I think."

She closed her eyes, shifting a little to be comfortable, and decided that he was still strange to her.

But she had become something different and wanted to embrace the strangeness with him.

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