What would you like to know? Is this about my children? Maker!
Oh Bethany, Andraste guide you! It’s so good to hear from you. Your sister and Isabela send their best. I am well, though Dog and I are equally bored! Please stay safe, love. Maker only knows what I would do if something happened to you.
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It must have been a week or so before the Dowager’s ball. There was no moment I recorded in any diary, “Eluviesta: Tuesday Afternoon, felt new life where none was before.”
But I was sick as a mabari. From one day to the next, my body revolted. Food brought me nothing but morning misery, and because it seemed to pass quickly I forgot to dwell upon it. Silly, I know. It wasn’t the sickness that eventually snapped its fingers in my face to wake me up, though. Rather, I found my left hand drifting to my belly now and again during the day, for no reason I could think of. Now I think that I must have been daydreaming of Malcolm, knitting together the wretched morning sickness with the image of his face, his fingers, and the times we moved together. Making a fabric out of those silvery threads until I could see the whole of it.
I was standing in the courtyard with the sun on my face, looking up at the tall windows that ran the length of the estate on one side. Thinking of Malcolm sneaking into the linen closet to find me. My hand moved to my stomach, a new instinct I came to understand, and I might have actually muttered Of course when the dazzle of the idea finally shone brightest in my mind.
How did I feel?
I know many languages, child …but in all of them I’ve yet to discover a turn of phrase that rivals the body itself for expressing what I felt.
Not at all! But thank you for asking.
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This family makes a tradition of picking up the beautiful, broken flotsam of the world. I would have it no other way. When Carver and Bethany were little, they would bring Hawke (if you like) every butterfly wing and crusty dog tooth they found. Before long we had a trunk full of glass bottles and moldy scarves and raven feathers…Andraste’s knickers, the FEATHERS. I think leaving that trunk behind in the Blight was the worst thing for Hawke…until we fled.
So, I don’t begrudge my children their odd assortment of companions. When everything else is a charred mess, they are your family.
It’s certainly no trouble. No worse than the pirate swinging from the chandelier, or Dog chewing on the baseboards, or all my upholstery poked to pieces by swords and daggers. Honestly, how does Fenris sit down with that thing?
Maker, you’re simply divine. Thank you! We have so much company, this will be a perfect snack. I hope you don’t mind lemonade. It seems Orana used all the tea to stain the sheets from white to brown. Don’t ask me why.
Never in my life did I think this house could…well…house this many people!
Welcome, welcome.
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a MOB! I’m overjoyed to have you. Hello!
