Silverlight Terrace here's to the ones who dream

Hydra mulled over his words. Starting over. Making amends. It was not so simple a thing to do as to say, and the Ostrega presumed he knew as much. Her jaw was stubbornly set as her eyes searched his own, and she exhaled. And how will you do that? She asked at length, curious and desiring specifics. She did not want to be made a fool out of ever again; she did not even think to believe he meant to include her in who he may make amends to, but to Rannoch, to Cypress. She dare not speak their names to him, lest he turn and flee from her company now for those who he considered more important than her.

The Ostrega knew she was mortal, knew she was capable of killing and hurting and maiming. All things considered, she ensured that none could wound her as she could wound them. Physically, mentally. She kept her family close, and killed or beguiled her enemies—whichever benefited her most. But Rian had found her long before she had built these seemingly impenetrable walls. He was beyond them. He stood with a sword that pressed flush against her heart; she was a woman, reduced to but a girl here. Caught between a mixture of longing, and resentment for that longing as he had fled her when she had spoken her truth... but she hid those emotions well enough, now that she had regained her composure. Her eyes were searching, now—

Indeed, it would be easy to turn her teeth against him than to face the cruel truth his words would bring to her... She considered it as she awaited them, but knew she needed to hear whatever they were to ever truly move forward. Death had been her closure, but here he stood—this was not death.