[log] i'm not scared of dying, i just don't want to

[errantknights]

Three months or so have passed since Ewar was first given responsibility for the 'children', as Martel refers to them; if Ewar were to recount the conversation, he'd probably judiciously edit what was actually said to him ('make sure the children don't do anything miserably stupid while my back is turned') out of both tactfulness and loyalty

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[cold_magdalen]

Magda comes along with Ewar without actually speaking to him at all--typically--and comes into the room with a soft sweep of her dark skirts. She looks tireder than she did when Martel last saw her. Her sleep has been little better, and she goes back and forth between trusting Leonato and hating him, to the point where he probably can't be sure from day to day how she'll treat him.

She fixes Martel with a level stare, holding her shoulders straight. "Sir."

[errantknights]

The tower study that she's brought to is warmly-lit with the same enchanted glass torches that burn without fuel throughout the mountain castle; Martel glances up from his work and closes the book before she's even properly through the door. He rises, since he'll be taking her down to his work rooms.

"Magdalen," he greets, not unkind but not especially effusive, either. The past three months have been a mess, mostly professionally, but he looks more gaunt than last they met. His clothes are simpler, and when he turns to collect something from the shelf, it's visible through his light-weight shirt that his back is still partly bandaged. "Tell me how you've been."

[cold_magdalen]

She laughs. "Ill. Very ill."

[errantknights]

"Specifics, Magdalen." He's not sharp, but he doesn't really allow a lot of room for 'not obeying him'. (Or any.)