making me feel glad that I'm not you

Morgan

Snakes are biting at my heels
The worries that refuse to let us go

Morgan sighed, gesturing her acceptance of Saiden's point. "Very well then. What story do you want to hear from me? I find it difficult to simply select one." There had to be a moment he was curious about in her life; depending on what it was, she didn't mind elaborating. She'd never really done much telling of her tales, the Warden being quite a private, professional person: it was only in the last year she had gained what she might call actual friends, for the first time in a long time.

Looking at the shoulder wound, she couldn't help but smile just a little, perhaps because of how different to herself Saiden was; Morgan could never imagine being so glib about the seduction of a Noblewoman's husband. Had such a thing occurred to her, it would have been a major event, not just another scar for the collection. "And are you still close to this man?"

She was distracted enough by the flower, thoughts that it might sustain Neron or help if the water could not, that she didn't notice the hairball being taken. Morgan was unawares of it's powers anyway, and had considered throwing it away several times. When contrasted with the beautiful and potentially powerful bloom in her hands, it meant little. "...I wonder if there is a name for these. Perhaps I should ask an elder at the Citadel."

I've been kicking them away
Been hoping not to let them take control