heartbeat on a high line

Phoebe Steadman I've dropped out, burned up Fought my way back from the dead The kettle whistled and the Madame was right there to pick it up. She poured it over the mix she had prepared him - a special mix to calm his nerves - fixing it up the way she remembered he liked his tea. She hummed in quiet understanding, eyes focused on the task at hand lest she burn herself. But her mind wandered, memories of the blood soaked snow, her stained and tattered dress, the first LongNight that had taught them all just how cruel this world could be. "You've survived a few LongNights. I'm not worried that you'll pull through this, too." she said softly, finally returning to his side and setting the tea on the table before him. Silently, she sank into her chair next to him, honeyed gaze watching his expression. She sighed, looking down at the table then. "That feeling...the toll...it never really goes away." she said. Phoebe had seen her fair share of death as a midwife after all - the numerous faces of women and children, lost for one reason or another. The questioning that followed - if death truly was the only option - it never really went away. "But at least you know it is merciful. That their souls will rest in peace with Mort. Ludo taught me that once...and it is a solace we never had in Northaven." she said softly.