Her garden was the finest in Hightown.
She always ended up alone with him halfway through a night out. She assumed most people cleared out because he looked like he’d be a sad drunk. He was; so was she, though a different kind. But she liked the way he loosened up with a few glasses of wine in him; there was a…she didn’t know what to call it. A mobility to the melancholy, maybe.
“Tell me something, Hawke.”
“About…?” The look on his face told her just about everything. Before she got too excited, she had to cover her bases.
“You heard what I told Anders.”
“I, unlike him, do not need to hear the same thing twice.”
“Right, then. Shoot.”
“How does one know that they’re a woman rather than a man?”
Eudora in her head, voice rasping: There’s the question that one asks and the question that one wants answered. She took a moment’s silence.
And then Daphne started giggling. And could not, for the life of her, stop.
art by @lunehowls — thank you so much!
