The still of the alcove was another kind of quiet from the tense silence of the war council in my last vision. It was solemn but gentle, like the hush before the first drops of rain fall. Verity's shoulders shook as she sniffled, wiping her eyes again. I drifted across the room, slipping onto Thron's couch. I rested curled up against him, yearning for his warmth, but was met with only the cool astral breeze of my soul space.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to show you something so unbecoming," she whispered, avoiding his eyes. "I just…"
"It's alright, child," Thron said gently. He smiled softly. "I seem to find myself in these situations more often than not, nowadays. Being strong is good, but a strong that doesn't know how to bend will break before a mighty gale."
Verity blinked, looking up at him, tilting her head slightly. "I…don't know what that means."
Thron chuckled, shaking his head. "Never mind that. Just the ramblings of an old man. Now, what is it that bothers you today?"
