Arrow Lake abbatia

when fennec rose in conversation, germanicus leveled his eyes toward meadow. 

he was not certain that she had earned the right to speak of the imperatrix. and then he recognized the cruel futility of the thought.

"no. i do not think she is happy." the cold lines of her body, the absence of the ember that had always burned between them in nights shared. 

"i think i have made her decidedly otherwise." germanicus said quietly. "and i do not expect her to have the patience of any soldier." slowly he was realizing the erosion of his self standing so close. and yet so not. 

his yellowpaint eyes fell again to her herbs. there was a long and bleak moment of charcoal grey which spread. 

"akashingo is changing. there are things set into motion that cannot be undone." but he did not want to speak of that wretched place. he wished ramesses had been killed in his undeserved cradle.

germanicus was watching the epochian now. only as a man to a woman. not with investigative intent. not as a tactician. only as perhaps he had once before.

his eyes were a study in a hundred unsung moments, glinting like starlight. for a long moment he let awareness of meadow fill him, allowed himself a small dreaming second.

this too, playing in the light upon his stoic features.