[The very mention of the name makes the pause that Beatrix falls into feel and appear quite transparent.
Yes. Of course she knows. She knows far more than she wishes she did. In fact, she wishes she'd never gotten Oriphi's letter. She wishes she could pretend it never existed, that she hasn't read it countless times prior to her slumber. That it hasn't touched her in the way that it has.
Clearing her throat, Beatrix lifts her hands to haughtily flick her hair back, as if that somehow might piece whatever's remaining of her dignity back together.]
I am aware of the one that was left for me. I heard that Beat also got one. It would seem she left letters for all of us.
[And the thought of that makes Beatrix ache all over again, the familiar tightness of her chest returning.]
no subject
Yes. Of course she knows. She knows far more than she wishes she did. In fact, she wishes she'd never gotten Oriphi's letter. She wishes she could pretend it never existed, that she hasn't read it countless times prior to her slumber. That it hasn't touched her in the way that it has.
Clearing her throat, Beatrix lifts her hands to haughtily flick her hair back, as if that somehow might piece whatever's remaining of her dignity back together.]
I am aware of the one that was left for me. I heard that Beat also got one. It would seem she left letters for all of us.
[And the thought of that makes Beatrix ache all over again, the familiar tightness of her chest returning.]