[ Daphne doesn’t care about titles. In Folkmore, she’s learned they’re only words. Wind. Actions speak louder. Still, it is hard to unlearn everything else. The mannerisms, the innate repression. How is she to shed that, when it’s all she’s ever really known?
If she were one to scoff, she would now. In lieu, she smiles indulgently, pleased that he’s chosen to acquiesce to her. ]
Of course.
[ Her eyes slide back to the hearth, quiet but close to content. It’s a while before she speaks again, picking her words with care. ]
no subject
If she were one to scoff, she would now. In lieu, she smiles indulgently, pleased that he’s chosen to acquiesce to her. ]
Of course.
[ Her eyes slide back to the hearth, quiet but close to content. It’s a while before she speaks again, picking her words with care. ]
I feel safe with you.