[ biting her tongue isn't like her. still, she isn't in any mood to pursue the argument that follows him through the door, stalking him down the dusty, dilapidated corridors much like alina's trailing footsteps. they fall behind him, an echo that never edges too closely to his side, a shadow at his back. all the while, she can taste the rich, copper sting of blood in her mouth — the flavor of every word she has left unsaid.

the air seems to thicken with it, draped in a tension she does nothing to slice through. ]

Everything is exactly as you left it. Close enough to it, anyway.

[ perhaps that habit has invited ghosts to reside in his quarters, the mattress left with only the dip of her imprint as she'd waited for any sign of his return. in his absence, it had been a comfort — finding herself on those sheets, surrounded by the last traces of his scent, inhaling the fresh wind and the salt of the sea. now, it feels like a memorial to mark the loss of — something.

something she might have never truly had to begin with. her chest feels like it's gaping open, numbly empty, as she tries to direct her thoughts away from the memory of rum warmed by a fire and the heat of his mouth. her eyes trail away from his back, pointedly staring blankly ahead of her. ]

If you want a better idea of our supplies, you'll have to ask David. We had to delegate responsibilities while you were gone.

[ it's easier to give that direction, to point him elsewhere, than to address it — or to fully tackle the topic of all that he's missed, the nights she has spent ensuring his kingdom wouldn't topple. because it has always been his, even with her at the helm, in her refusal to believe he wouldn't return.

she sighs, a gust of a light breath she loosens, and briefly presses her palms to her eyeballs. ]

The rest of Ravka believes you've been ill. It was the first excuse I could think of.