[She waits at the boundaries. Settles close to where the chickens have taken up roost, and entertains Mercymorn with pets and idle conversation. There’s some tidying she’ll need to do, later. Sort through their things, go out eventually for the golfcart.
For now it’s this miasma of numb-grief. Of empty uncertainty. She wants to go back to bed, mostly. She wants to pretend nothing has changed.
Whoever gets there first will find her still in her pj’s: one of House’s shirts, a pair of bloomers cut into shorts. One of John’s cardigans sits over her shoulders, which is the maybe only out of habit. She hasn’t brushed her hair. ]
no subject
For now it’s this miasma of numb-grief. Of empty uncertainty. She wants to go back to bed, mostly. She wants to pretend nothing has changed.
Whoever gets there first will find her still in her pj’s: one of House’s shirts, a pair of bloomers cut into shorts. One of John’s cardigans sits over her shoulders, which is the maybe only out of habit. She hasn’t brushed her hair. ]