if it doesn't burn a little
A laugh burts out of Weaver at that. Though their last meeting had actually been, shockingly, okay, she cannot imagine broaching that subject with Zariah. ”Oh yes, I can just imagine how that conversation would go. I am not certain I would leave it with my life intact.” She shakes her head. ”Besides, I don’t have to sleep in them.” Though Maea had. She’d slept right here, in this small room with her few possessions. Though she’d had another room, a bed to share, in somewhere warmer.
”That is one way to put it,” she says, setting a book back into the bookcase. She looks around, finding that the room is back in order, things largely in place, at least as best as she can remember. ”I don’t think there is anything left for us to do here,” she says softly.
”That is one way to put it,” she says, setting a book back into the bookcase. She looks around, finding that the room is back in order, things largely in place, at least as best as she can remember. ”I don’t think there is anything left for us to do here,” she says softly.
-- weaver
then what's the point in playing with fire?
