Roxanne sat on the porch of the Wyndham estate, her gaze fixed on the endless stretch of sky painted in pale morning hues. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of wet earth after dawn's mist. Her mind wandered back to her father's words, "To take Kaelindor, you must be willing to break it first." It had been five days since that conversation, yet the weight of it lingered like a shadow she couldn't shake.
From the doorway, Vivianne watched her silently. Roxanne's posture, calm yet distant, told her enough; her wife was lost in thought again. Vivianne hesitated, her fingers brushing against the wooden frame of the door. She wanted to speak, to share the news she'd brought, but she didn't want to intrude on Roxanne's rare moments of quiet.
But Roxanne, always attuned to her presence, turned her head slightly and smiled. She didn't need to look to know Vivianne was there. She always knew. "Come here, Vivian," Roxanne said softly, as she stretched out her arms.
