Noctisardor Bypass [m] sola fide

beneath her splayed paw she felt the beat of his good and godly heart, and in her eyes there suddenly flickered the embers of a religiously poised hunger: that of wife for head of household, helpmate to a man of god.
no one had ever taught her these things; not mahler, not sequoia, not bartholomew, and not caracal. heda had only tasted of wifeliness so briefly that her mind sought that companionship over and over.
his anticipation sparked her own. "i — anything you bring will be fine," and had heda hands, she would have self-consciously smoothed the fabric of a long modest dress against the back of her thighs as readjusted her sit.
the rite of eucharist. she'd never heard it called that before, and her gaze glimmered with an unquenched curiosity. "i've never had wine," heda murmured, "what is it?"
and her mind shrilled then with the clarion intensity of a memory.