"What a shame she's fucked in her head, " they said.
Her comment earns her a snort and it's one of the few almost laughs she's gotten from him. A feat considering his current emotional state. The Nightshade is more than aware of the heaviness weighing on him and she hopes that this is a good enough distraction to ease things for a short time. The market is beginning to clear out and those that linger know well enough not to mess with either of them. Despite the fact that Sunjata and Maeve aren't involved in the way they were before the knowledge of the former governor and dragon of Torchline being a close friend of the Nightshade's is enough to ward off anyone's unwanted advances. Pair that with the fact that Maeve is also tied Jack and it's a deadly combination. It pays to have friends in high and low places.
Edmund fusses for only a moment as Sunjata shifts him in his hold, moving him to the other arm, but the babe settles soon enough. He doesn't fall asleep, instead lifting his head and looking around, balancing himself with a hand on Sunjata's shoulder. Blue eyes flick back and forth, going from Maeve to Sunjata, dark brows knitting together as they step into the shop. Maeve stays by his side, quiet support as they wait for the craftsman to come out with the memorial piece and when he does, her lips curl into a soft smile and a pang goes through her heart at the sight of it.
Maeve reaches up to place a hand on his back, "It's beautiful, Jata. Very fitting for her." She murmurs, her thumb rubbing gently back and forth over one of the notches of his spine, a quiet comfort in this moment. Perhaps it's inappropriate, but it's always been a natural instinct for her to offer support through touch. Something she thrives on herself.
Edmund fusses for only a moment as Sunjata shifts him in his hold, moving him to the other arm, but the babe settles soon enough. He doesn't fall asleep, instead lifting his head and looking around, balancing himself with a hand on Sunjata's shoulder. Blue eyes flick back and forth, going from Maeve to Sunjata, dark brows knitting together as they step into the shop. Maeve stays by his side, quiet support as they wait for the craftsman to come out with the memorial piece and when he does, her lips curl into a soft smile and a pang goes through her heart at the sight of it.
Maeve reaches up to place a hand on his back, "It's beautiful, Jata. Very fitting for her." She murmurs, her thumb rubbing gently back and forth over one of the notches of his spine, a quiet comfort in this moment. Perhaps it's inappropriate, but it's always been a natural instinct for her to offer support through touch. Something she thrives on herself.
Maeve
