Somehow, she had known
There’d been movement about the keep earlier, but there always was, and far off on her cliff side perch she hadn’t been able to make out the figures wandering back down and behind her to the patch of sand. She’d even looked away, following her usual route, and then… a twitch, and without her having any say in the matter her ears swivelled and then her eyes as well. She could tell he had come back.
As Isolde mused in her bunk, her expression shifted from a scowl to thoughtfulness to a flush of embarassment and back again. Like a godsdamn bloody dog, she was, rushing over all in a flurry and a mess, hugging him…HUGGING. Whether he’d been gone a day or a week it would’ve been the same, and she cursed her worgen genes for it. But, but. Those words.
She looked to the door, cheeks blushing again. No, she wouldn’t admit that to him, but the thought stirred up others, more secret, and more unsure. If she didn’t like the barstid she wouldn’t have bothered. She’d have done her duty, that was only fair, but not waited on a freezing cliffside for hours on end, watching snow and swirling sand. She liked him, but she just…those words and that look and well, maybe it weren’t so bad. She trusted him, and grudgingly acknowledged the trust was fairly earned. And she liked…
Oh, gods, the letter. The hells with it. She’d read it when it arrived, or do her best, and not let him be the wiser for her struggles with it. No, no reason to let this be more mucked up in her head then things already were. She’d even read a damn poncing letter for himself.
Isolde rubbed her face and flopped back onto the bed. What a godsdamned night it had been.
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