12/18/2025, 6:37 PM
gjalla.his senses had brought her to him at last, but he sat in recline and let his eyes drift to the bare branches laced over him.
what do the stars say this evening?he asked, not quite teasing but without the great wet blanket of his usual ire. the pain in his leg throbbed once and then let him go.
grateful, seutonius was silent. there were few moments where filling every second with speech held reason, and this was not one of those. he let himself taste the night with all his senses; the warming earth beneath him, the bark at his spine and the back of his skull. the wintry glow of refracted light from the snow; the soft pulse of starlight. gjalla.
if peace came to the roman now, he did not know its name.
