#6.14.18

where: Strand Bookstore

when: june 14th, 2018, early afternoon

with: @galefairbank

It was a week until Fidchell. A week until a secret she’d so desperately wanted to know the answer to, especially in her childhood, might be broadcast for everyone in attendance. Camellia understood perfectly well that wagers had to have a stake in them - but still - and perhaps it was selfish, she thought - perhaps she ought not to have such a reaction to it - it caused her body to ache, and she’d found Jasper, found him and let him hold her until she was steadier.

Because everyone in the Court who felt adverse toward her would be looking for some sign that she was fragile, anything to use against her, and she would not permit that to happen. Not only because her mother would surely comment on the fault of it, but also because she would not ever let anyone harm her - not through freezing others out (despite being of the Winter Court, that was rarely in her nature), but through continued behavior as normal.

So she came to a bookshop - not one she frequented, it was often too touristy for her tastes (she preferred used bookshops, or other independent ones), but right now the Strand bookstore was exactly what she needed. A place where she could mostly blend in. Turning a corner in the poetry section (she’d just chosen a copy of Anne Sexton’s poems and tucked in under her arm - a tragic poet, surely - though also one who was deeply fascinating, and as much as Camellia did not prefer tragedy, she did find enjoyment in wordplay), she spotted a familiar face.

“Gale.” She couldn’t help the small smile that crossed her lips right away. He was someone who was always there for her, who she could count on, who’d given her countless objects that she appreciated so deeply. Someone who her mother was also close to - but who seemed to appreciate them both deeply. “I hope you are faring well on this warm day.”