Broken Boulder el torito

delight doesn't answer; he doesn't need to. his face says everything, eyes searching queenie's expression for what he wants -- and then it comes, and oddly, it feels like a weight off his shoulders.

"you're right," the chancellor says, running his tongue against his lips nervously. her next question makes him wince but he answers honestly, rising to move closer to her. "a few days -- long enough that they could be -- hell, they could be anywhere." it is an admission of his own failure (why have you not left earlier, delight? sickness is no excuse -- you were bitter about queenie, you wanted to die in your bitterness.)

but the practical truth is -- of all of them queenie might be the best prepared to actually look for them. "we need to go," he says, more surely, "if -- if they were trailing you, we should trace your steps -- where did you go after last time..?"

that they were not pursuing their mother -- that they've just left, disappeared into the teekons like so many in his life -- well. he can't cross that bridge now. he may not cross that bridge ever.