as I hold my soul all the music pours out
Much has happened to Finn since the last time Falke had seen him more to do some cursory health checks after he was temporarily healed. Ah, temporarily isn’t the right word, as it’s on going - given a treatment might be better.
Regardless of how the Spyglass is staying sane, there is much to note about Finn’s circumstances: his grounding to Stormbreak, being healed by a Unicorn, the Owl given to him by Safrin. The dots are almost too scattered, the map too piecemeal to make sense of; and yet Falke must, so he’s requested a chat with Finn outside of their normal check-ins. Or in lieu of, since they technically missed some while he was ill.
Oh, semantics don’t seem to matter any more, do they?
And the simple pleasures seem quite important, so Falke decides to take this meeting outdoors, to a private cafe in the Plaza, where he knows the owners will give them privacy by tucking them away in a back corner and the public may look at the two Order members inquisitively, but they won’t be able to hear the conversation.
The Fixer has, of course, ordered some tea. And a scone - he really does love the lemon poppyseed ones they make here, with such a lovely, light glaze on it - one bite is all it takes to remember how moist and slightly sweet-tart they are. Gods, he needs to get of the Tower out more often. He needs more scones in his life.
Regardless of how the Spyglass is staying sane, there is much to note about Finn’s circumstances: his grounding to Stormbreak, being healed by a Unicorn, the Owl given to him by Safrin. The dots are almost too scattered, the map too piecemeal to make sense of; and yet Falke must, so he’s requested a chat with Finn outside of their normal check-ins. Or in lieu of, since they technically missed some while he was ill.
Oh, semantics don’t seem to matter any more, do they?
And the simple pleasures seem quite important, so Falke decides to take this meeting outdoors, to a private cafe in the Plaza, where he knows the owners will give them privacy by tucking them away in a back corner and the public may look at the two Order members inquisitively, but they won’t be able to hear the conversation.
The Fixer has, of course, ordered some tea. And a scone - he really does love the lemon poppyseed ones they make here, with such a lovely, light glaze on it - one bite is all it takes to remember how moist and slightly sweet-tart they are. Gods, he needs to get of the Tower out more often. He needs more scones in his life.
THE 'FIXER'
the greatest fear I've ever kept is dying with regrets
