4 Works found in Earric Boyne/Dozilva do Baru/Sanadhìl Órecalo
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Dozilva lowered the blade, letting its flat rest against his chest, warming it to his body temperature. "It will hurt," she said, explaining to Arek as much as to him, "but the physical pain allows the heart to better understand its own hurts. Pain is part of life, never far away, and we have the strength to endure it, move within it, acknowledge it, and then let it go. You're going to let this go, Sanadhil."
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Arek stood with his - her - back to the door, wings neatly folded. The same loose brown curls as always tumbled to her shoulders, making San wistful once more. Arek turned when he came in and gave him a smile that cheered him somewhat. "You're drenched, come over by the fire and warm up."
San did so, extending his hands towards the flames. "How was your day?"
"Oh, fine," Arek said idly. She came up behind Sanadhil and wrapped her arms around his waist.
"You'll get wet," San warned her.
"Mm, possibly, you do have that effect on me," she agreed playfully.
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It was a comfortable domestic scene: Arek was working quietly at the desk, laughing quietly to herself as she thought of new scrapes to force on the heroine of her latest novel; Dozilva had just returned from coaxing the two youngest boys into their afternoon nap, and was now listening to Sanadhil talk with quiet excitement about his latest research. In the center of the room a young boy appeared, bawling and falling instantly to his knees with a surprising amount of force, adding new pain to his general upset.
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Arek always managed to find a way to be elsewhere when Dozilva was using her knives.
- Words:
- 304
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- 5