Title: old soldiers
'Verse/characters: Death be not Proud; Eduard De'Ath, the Morrigan
Prompt: 97C "salt"
Word Count: 615
Notes: one of the beginning threads of this story.
(
The note arrived with the evening's second round of single malt; one of the untaxed stills' productions, redolent of smoke and the sea. )
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A large part of it is that she didn't agree to gracefully wait in the ladies' annex, and neither did the man she was there to visit agree that that was where she belonged and that he would meet her there. So the staff flipped from benefit of the doubt (she does tend to dress well) to the opposite.
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<3s for them both. And for the fact that I'm not sure she's wrong.
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