playing house

Abasi

Grace is just weakness

"Peace...is a good ideal, but I find it is rarely upheld when people are frustrated." Abasi wrung his hands together, thinking of the political turmoils of his world, the tensions between his own people and the Romans, the chaotic, changing nature of the Germanic nations. News of death, of invasion, was commonplace. As much as he had felt safe in his own city, he had never lived in a time of peace.

Following Loren through the house, he wondered who had once lived here - the place was so big, it had clearly once been home to a great family. Not just one man and whoever he wished to take in. He didn't have too much time to theorise before Loren spoke again though, and he nodded, not wanting to be rude. "Do you...know he survived the Blight? If the man is dead, it would excuse his absence. If not, a King should not abandon his people until his last breath."

He did not know who the bedroom they entered belonged to; a woman, he thought, from the clothes and decor. Loren must have known her well, from the confidence with which he began to look for make up and took what he found. "Yes. This looks similar..." Abasi opened the container and closed one eye, wetted one finger with his tongue then dipped it in, pulling the black across his eyelid. As he applied, he asked: "Whose room is this? Your mother, or a sister perhaps?"

Or so I've been told