Beside me.
Even in her more stoic automations, Iglux̂ would trade her subservience for a question. She would seek her husband’s affections for security; for children. She would listen for his fire and laugh with full attention, because it would give her her own. She would chase these things always, and felt in time they would grow distance between she and him.
“I will make you a poor wife, Cen,” her voice falls with the rain.
