a martyr on a bridge that's burning down

PHOEBE

Harper had disappeared well before Phoebe had, and so as she tried to find her place in the world once more, he was naught but a sad memory. He had left or been taken or died somehow like every other man she had ever loved, surely. Such had been her fate, and with people coming and going so often in her life, it was hard for her to cling to the hope that they might someday reappear. Such was a fool's errand, and she had little time to focus on that, knowing any moment Cian or one of his minions might appear to try and whisk her off to their capital. Or was it the capital of Caido? It didn't matter. Frey would probably tell her capitals were a silly mortal concept with no real impact on reality, just the mortal need to feel control over their space.

She paused and blinked. Wow...where had that thought come from? Had Frey changed her thought patterns too?

Still, she ought to be focusing on trading for some clothes. She had yet to return to the Halenani, which had a new proprietor apparently, and so the only clothes she had were the ones Frey had given her - a very short white dress with a neckline the dipped all the way down to her sternum. And no shoes. At least that bit was fairly common in Torchline.

So she stood at a stall with Branbast draped over her shoulders and Pim making a nuisance at her side, growling at any who dared get close.

You thought you'd watch me fade away

When you broke me into pieces

But I gave I gave each piece a name