(no subject)
The star had tossed and turned a bit impatiently, unable to get back to sleep once Tristran had left and with very little motivation to do very much other than lay there sulkily and watch the grass grow in front of her nose. Which, one discovers, really is just about as dreadfully boring as one would imagine. If not more. (Granted that such a thing is even possible.)
It's somewhere around the middle of the afternoon by the time that she has finished moping - or at least pretending to sleep while she was moping - and she is seated carefully upon a patch of meadow grass, eyes trained upon the gap in the wall and out into the villiage behind it.
And, no matter how much it may seem so, she's not waiting for him to come back for her.
Really she isn't.
(She doesn't actually believe herself either.)
It's somewhere around the middle of the afternoon by the time that she has finished moping - or at least pretending to sleep while she was moping - and she is seated carefully upon a patch of meadow grass, eyes trained upon the gap in the wall and out into the villiage behind it.
And, no matter how much it may seem so, she's not waiting for him to come back for her.
Really she isn't.
(She doesn't actually believe herself either.)