Mentions talking it over with Tess, and nod agreement. Though adds "I wouldn't trust Lucien," and frown at that. "I know he's a friend of yours, and now he's rid of the demon I like him well enough, but I wouldn't trust him. Not about this."
"I..." Think of the colour he turned in the Miskatonic, and trust he'd have her well shut of what she's carrying. And yet as well remember him speaking of her calling on Lugh and Laurence and Kate t'stand against Marbas as some unspeakable bravery, and think if she painted herself aright he'd fall in with her, always. "Well enough," I say soft.
Mention of word getting out and can feel the shift in the subject, and'm glad of it, and touch her hand light aside mine on the bench. "And how is your pregnancy going?" she says. "Is it treating you well enough?"
"Well enough," I say, and realize I've curled in on myself a little and straighten. "Truly," I add. "Times my moods're scattered and'm a touch sick," and I hate that, the moods particular, "but less tired, at least. Though I'll be glad t'see spring come," and manage a smile. Raspberries and raspberry leaf, beets, corn, lemon balm, spinach, and I am so tired of them preserved or dried... "And've been craving oranges. Haven't had them in years." Shake my head.
"That aside..." Touch my face light, the stains creeping 'round my eyes. "Think few folk may've started t'suspect, but-- well. No'one's speaking of it yet, leastways not t'me." May be soon enough, may be that when the weather's warmed t'where I no longer need go about in layers and I've started t'show more they will, but not yet. "Don't mind the... the quiet of that. And Iago's being a kindness," I say soft. Still speaking of no gift particular for keeping house, or cooking, and from the changes happen 'round the house when I'm sleeping or away from the kitchen, lend as much weight t'that as to his claims of not being a gentleman t'me. "Though he'd wave it aside."
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Date: 2010-09-09 01:48 am (UTC)"I..." Think of the colour he turned in the Miskatonic, and trust he'd have her well shut of what she's carrying. And yet as well remember him speaking of her calling on Lugh and Laurence and Kate t'stand against Marbas as some unspeakable bravery, and think if she painted herself aright he'd fall in with her, always. "Well enough," I say soft.
Mention of word getting out and can feel the shift in the subject, and'm glad of it, and touch her hand light aside mine on the bench. "And how is your pregnancy going?" she says. "Is it treating you well enough?"
"Well enough," I say, and realize I've curled in on myself a little and straighten. "Truly," I add. "Times my moods're scattered and'm a touch sick," and I hate that, the moods particular, "but less tired, at least. Though I'll be glad t'see spring come," and manage a smile. Raspberries and raspberry leaf, beets, corn, lemon balm, spinach, and I am so tired of them preserved or dried... "And've been craving oranges. Haven't had them in years." Shake my head.
"That aside..." Touch my face light, the stains creeping 'round my eyes. "Think few folk may've started t'suspect, but-- well. No'one's speaking of it yet, leastways not t'me." May be soon enough, may be that when the weather's warmed t'where I no longer need go about in layers and I've started t'show more they will, but not yet. "Don't mind the... the quiet of that. And Iago's being a kindness," I say soft. Still speaking of no gift particular for keeping house, or cooking, and from the changes happen 'round the house when I'm sleeping or away from the kitchen, lend as much weight t'that as to his claims of not being a gentleman t'me. "Though he'd wave it aside."