Vlka stood in the center of Ralph's home, her hands held the lowered Veil around her shoulders firmly while her eyes traced the artifacts and collected pieces neatly arranged in the corner. She enjoyed looking at the pieces because it calmed her jumping nerves.
A bitter irony curled in her chest. She had never visited him here, in his home and he had wanted her to do that so much. The first time she crossed this threshold, it was not as a welcome guest, but as a supplicant, their bond was frayed and fragile at the moment.
The soft sound of his footsteps broke her reverie. Ralph came to stand beside her, his presence was a familiar warmth that both comforted and agitated her. He offered her a glass of wine.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she accepted it, their fingers brushing in a contact that sent a jolt up her arm.
