[for Silence]
It had been days since the island had again fallen under the spell of truth. Marian was grateful that neither she nor Silence had been afflicted. Robin had, and Tom, and those were two conversations that hung heavy on her in the days afterward. Heavy as her conversations with Silence about the two of them. Her worries that whilst she was happy with Silence, when they were apart things changed. She could not pin down what it was, but there was a difference.
It was something that she thought she could push away. That she could hide from. But as the days wore on Marian realised she was growing more reticent and withdrawn. Such was not fair to Silence, nor to her. Yet without being able to name the issue, what was there to talk of?
It was in such a state of distraction that she fell asleep on a hammock they'd strung near their hut, drifting in and out as she swung in the sun, her book long since abandoned.
It was something that she thought she could push away. That she could hide from. But as the days wore on Marian realised she was growing more reticent and withdrawn. Such was not fair to Silence, nor to her. Yet without being able to name the issue, what was there to talk of?
It was in such a state of distraction that she fell asleep on a hammock they'd strung near their hut, drifting in and out as she swung in the sun, her book long since abandoned.