"Good." Arialla smiled, then sobered. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that the sun has turned harsher for you, but I'm glad you've gotten to see it, at least."
Arialla thought back to what had been a fairly brief encounter; she couldn't help a bit of a rueful smile as she said, "Well, he spent our entire beach cleanup tripping on boards and scraping himself up. But he seemed all right beyond that. You could always write him a letter," she added, a gentle suggestion.
And then there was Wessex: Arialla thought for a moment before answering. "Well, we didn't get into deep conversations -- certainly not, er, theological ones. But we both showed up to lend a hand in the same places, in the same ways, so we must agree on something. And when I've encountered her she's been ..." Well, kind wasn't the word, exactly, carrying with it some intimation of softness that didn't suit Arialla's picture of Wessex. "Hardworking. Capable. Helpful."
please don't take my sunshine away
