Look at the time it's taken me to get away from what was said
I'll never leave, I'll always love
A small smile, something akin to a smirk, elevated the corner of Aura’s mouth.
“If that is his wish, it won’t be granted.” She asserted with the confidence which came from knowing such things.
Aura and Arthur had not always seen eye to eye. His very existence on this planet, born again to rule a troubled kingdom, had not sat well with her vision of a democratic society. They suffered from a distinct clash of personalities, priorities and worries. It was only after Arthur had rescued her from Selene’s torturous captivity that they offered each other a degree of openness which, in its turn, led to a mutual understanding. By the time of her death, Aura had accepted his leadership and even sought his advice on other, more personal matters. Now, having been dead and gone for so many years, she appreciated his personal role in caring for her friend and son all the more.
The Arthur she had come to understand didn’t seem the type to push for the death penalty in times of peace. Even if he were, there was no question that Mallos wouldn’t allow it. Croe had chosen her sponsor well.
The first thing which struck her about the Pirate Lord was her stillness. She returned to her perch on the arm of the sofa, deliberately inactive, outwardly calm. The polar opposite of both Mallos himself and the one person Aura couldn’t help but compare Croe to.
“Remains to be seen.” She said somewhat evasively in response to the question about concussion.
Mallos did a lot of things which didn’t seem to make sense to everyone else immediately, but Aura had learned that, when he was given the benefit of the doubt, things usually worked themselves out. Croe was unlikely to be the apocalyptic catastrophe that everyone else was regarding her to be at the moment. If Mallos saw something in her, she probably had something in her.
Precisely what that was, Aura had yet to determine.
She laughed. “Yeah, he’s persistent. With things he sees as worth pursuing, anyway.” She resisted the urge to ask quite how hard Croe had tried to discourage him. Mallos was a little too clever to chase a lost cause.
Aura ran her hand along the arm of the chair, pretending to admire the embroidery while she thought about what to say and how to say it. The chair was more to Arthur’s tastes than Mallos’. In fact, with the exception of the mother and her baby, there was nothing here which gave any indication that this was where her friend lived for part of the year. No personal touch. No cat-familiar curled up on the sofa.
“I take it he hasn’t made up with Sperantia since I last saw him, then.” She frowned a little at the floor, as though expecting the Siamese-cross to simply spring up out of nowhere. What was she doing, talking about a cat? Croe had to be bright enough to realise that she wasn’t here for idle chit-chat. “Sorry to be direct. How serious is this relationship?”
me and you, we are ghosts
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