Post by Liessel on Mar 4, 2024 18:52:03 GMT -5
Liessel's parasol was closed, hooked at the crook of her right arm where the rainwater would run from the length of it to the tip, and there it could drip and run in its fine little stream as she wove her way around those who were crowding the street with her.
She was some distance away from Knightsbridge now, this outing having taken her away from her sanctuary and home and out into the streets of London. She had cut through Hyde Park, clipping just the edge of Belgravia to head into Mayfair.
Across her arm, along with her parasol, was looped a basket of woven design that she had a folded piece of cloth in. These things were hugged close to her, as she dodged past people along her way. There was nothing quick about it, and no real rush. But there was a list, and there were shops she needed to get to before they closed.
She had come out wearing one of her favored dresses. It was made of cream-colored fabric and detailed with light peach at the collars and cuffs. She'd come without the matching coat, but it was warm enough outside that there was no chance of chill. Her hands were covered in a pair of lace gloves, in a color very close to that of her dress, and to that of the hat she wore low down over her brow to both hide the mark there, and to make room for the braid she had pinned in place at the back of her head.
On a brilliant afternoon such as this, the approach to Mayfair, and Mayfair itself, had an easy bustle. The jaunty clop of shod horses and the sway of carriages and coaches did not much clash with the rich variety of voices murmuring, laughing, and rolling between shops. Every now and then, carried forward by cobblestones and tossed ahead by shopfronts, the rhythmic rattle of the odd motorcar--a Cadillac, even!--drew looks and a little anticipation before the vehicle even turned a corner into view.
Many here had by this time seen motorcars, be they shipped from America or from the Continent, or built right here in England, but the sound was alien to this city yet, alien to the tempo of this world, and so the machines still had the power to cause conversations to pause, children to point, and glowers to be had from some quarters. The ones that tapped along up the streets did so slowly, their drivers taken nearly to a man to a certain brand of countrified fashion, and left a smack of hot smoke in their wake. They tended, for the most part, to follow two sorts of main designs, if one ignored the out-of-reach Gaunt-Schrabers, and to either look like a typical open-top coach with a stub shoved to the front, or like something spun down from the car of a train, with a barrel-like heart that held the driver and (rarely) a passenger behind him. They were novelties. Status symbols. But still wildly undesirable to those who detested the noise and the smell, and considered impractical.
But there was another noise that came after the last motorcar disappeared up the way.
This noise came, soft at first, from the sky.
It came in behind the sound of pennants and chatter, a low swoop of something that the ears could find but the mind not name.
As it grew and began to take over the sky, the same hush fell over Mayfair's pedestrians and patrons, but this time they got up from their chairs and moved a bit, to watch the sky for a golden ship they'd glimpsed or heard about before.
Liessel, like any other number of people sitting out under the sun, or going about their day and errands on those sidewalks of Mayfair, turned an eye toward the rumble and roar of automobiles when they passed by. She was not immune to the allure of them, and could appreciate the level of wealth that was needed to obtain one and to keep it running.
Not many could even come close to the low rumble-hum purr of the Gaunt-Schraber, and as she watched them pass she could not help but be reminded of just how different vehicles could be.
She was still watching where the last one had gone, her steps having stopped her at the edge of a crossing, when the world hushed around her. It took a few moments for it to hit Liessel's ear, but it did she was looking around to find faces turned skyward in anticipation.
Beneath that silence came something else, and the sound of it drew Liessel's attention skyward, too. Beyond her curiosity, riding like this new sound beneath the skin of the world, Liessel felt herself coiling up and readying to run.
Pharos, sketched and re-sketched and talked about on the front pages of newspapers all over the country since the middle of August, was the most identifiable airship in His Majesty's fleet. It was like no other. There was no balloon from which the ship depended. And no other ship made this sound. It was a shark of a vessel, and it gleamed from the nose down the sides, gold as amber, and flew the Union Jack aft, tiny but unmistakable.
The pride of the Aerofleet.
It sailed overhead. There was no sign of its mission, but it was easy to look up at the thing's belly and think that it looked predatory. A hunter for Britain. A protector.
Gasps of awe, and quiet murmurings of appreciation trickled through the street she was on. It was a beautiful thing, a sight to behold, there was no doubt about that. It was a wonder, to be sure, to the eyes of Londonites and to eyes that had come to London from far away.
Liessel blinked, that readiness to run diminishing within her bones, and lifted her free hand to shield her eyes as if the giant airship had thrown off a magnificent glare as it passed overhead. In truth, she was shielding her eyes from the sky surrounding the ship to try and make out details of the vessel a little bit better.
She had to wonder, as well, if this beautiful thing that the Empire had created was fueled by people, if it had been a part of the OLYMPUS project. It was those thoughts that helped to dim her appreciation for what England had accomplished. It was those thoughts that brought her hand down away from her eyes, and grounded her feet back to the sidewalk she was standing on.
There were some flashes here and there, along the underside. Mirrors, if Pharos used any of the same thinking that the designers of the Sir Francis Drake had. The better to see you with, my dear. Otherwise, there was bold black framing housing those smooth amberlike plates, and perhaps a long window along the back--hard to say--and certainly nothing of the kind along the belly itself.
Pharos cut across Mayfair, small overhead, the dream of flight, and eventually disappeared from views blocked by buildings and trees. The sound of her passage lingered for a time, shrinking, receding, as if it were the train of the ship's cloak, dragged in its wake.
By the time Mayfair sounded again like the Mayfair of a hundred years ago, and of 1702 too, many of those who had stopped to watch it fly had gone back to their business, or were threading the sighting excitedly into their conversations.
From Liessel's left, perhaps ten feet away, someone said, "It's less wonderful than it should be."
The voice belonged to Avery Flynn, and he had appeared nearby sometime during the passing of the airship, and now stood twisted, peering in the direction it had gone, wearing a pale summer suit.
"We are of like mind," she had started saying, her own eyes still locked onto the path that the ship had taken.
The world around her was becoming the world again, shifting back into motion as if someone had rewound its springs and cogs like an automation that had momentarily stopped. The ship was gone, life returned to its own flow, but the imprint of it remained.
And then the voice clicked. The sound of it met with recognition as her own thoughts of the flying creation receded, and she felt herself smile.
Of like mind, indeed.
She turned, found Avery Flynn standing there, and moved closer, "Hello, Mister Flynn." It was a more direct greeting than her initial statement, and it came with her closing the distance easily, her arms opening for an embrace if he would allow it.
After a second he turned to meet her, taking off his hat and giving her an easy hug hello as he explained, "I saw you there and didn't want to startle you." Pulling back, he grinned, "Is this your first time in Mayfair?" He looked past her, perhaps thinking Aurelia might be with her, but then took a second to study her more thoroughly, eyes taking in her basket and the fabric.
"On my own, yes, but I've been here a few times before with Aurelia. I thought today would be a good day to see it on my own," Her smile was as bright as his grin, "I really just needed to get out of the house for a while and thought it would be a good excuse to pick up some things for my father."
"How is he faring?" They fit right in, of course. Avery put his hat back on as he listened. He seemed to have come there alone, himself.
"He's doing well enough," Liessel let her hands fall, clasping them as any young lady would, with the basket grasped between them and her parasol hooked, now, about her wrist, "Every day that passes is a day that he is a little more alert. His strength, though," Her smile wavered, and she shook her head a little bit, "That will take a while."
They could have been talking about anyone, it felt like. Any ill father that might have passed through the hands of a London hospital, or physician's office. It was just another conversation happening on a corner, just like the many conversations that came before and those that would come after.
Avery, who knew at least about Liessel that she did not easily offer particulars relevant to her personal experience, considered her for a moment before saying anything. "You still feel that the Bells is offering him a chance at restoration?"
"I think for now, yes. He is doing well there. He seems to be enjoying the company that the people there offer, too." Her smile was back, if a little sly, "I think he likes hearing the stories they tell him." The sly-ness receded as she continued, "Though, I have been thinking about taking him out to the country when he is well enough."
"You have?" Eyebrows raised, Avery registered the strangeness of this sort of idea from Liessel. Pleased, he added, "Does anyplace in particular strike your fancy?"
"I don't know," This I don't know came with a smile and a shake of her head, unlike others that had come with frowns and an inward sense of despair, "I haven't looked into anything in particular just yet. I'd like to go somewhere where there is room for riding, and where the stars can be seen at night. Those are my only two demands of any place that I might take him."
Riding?
The one time Avery had been aware of Liessel on horseback was Denver. The idea that that had somehow endeared her to it made him laugh. Briefly, something occurred to him, and he stole a moment to say, "I don't mean to keep you. May I walk with you to wherever you're going?"
The laugh of Avery Flynn made her smile warmer.
I don't mean to keep you. Avery had then said and Liessel had begun to answer with a shake of her head and a Not at all. But then she found herself really looking at him where he stood, and found herself asking in return, "Felix and Mister Fletcher are not with you? -- That is, you aren't going to be missed if I say 'yes'?"
"Oh no. I'm here troublemaking all by myself." Turning, he offered her his arm--while at the same time holding out a hand in silent offer of carrying her basket for her.
"London beware," she said, teasing while also letting him take the basket from her. Before taking his arm, though, Liessel took a moment to unfurl her parasol and prop it against her shoulder. The offered arm was then taken, her lace covered fingers lightly resting against the sleeve of his pale suit. It was only then that she asked, "What kind of trouble are you planning today, Mister Flynn?"
Strolling on, before them Mayfair had already resumed its usual chatter and pace. Avery said, "Just making some arrangements for while we're away. I might need rest, but that doesn't mean I don't have work to do. I'm simply delegating. --Only now I'm picturing you riding the hills, the sun on you, and wondering how I might help make this happen for you."
"You've already got so much to do, so many preperations to make, Avery. You do not need to help with that. I was thinking of asking around at The Bells to see if anyone knew of a place I could rent, or board at but I am not so certain of asking for something like that there. Adam is surely no danger, but if someone is speaking with Slake about things, that is information I'd rather he not have. Father McKellen might know of a place -- I might ask Victoria, too."
Avery nodded thoughtfully, and said, "Trust your instincts. Send a postcard to the house?"
Liessel's head tipped forward in a small nod, and then she found herself looking up at Avery, a delicately curved eyebrow lifting a little, "A postcard? I didn’t know you collected them."
"You make it sound extraordinary that I might enjoy a memento from the first leisurely outing you're to undertake for yourself here." He arched a brow at her. "Speaking of a smaller version of that... Is your errand today also leisurely?" He raised the basket slightly for emphasis.
"Partly," She said, answering his question first, "The other part --" Her hand slipped away from his arm for a moment so that she could draw her list out from the pocket of her dress. It was a small corner of notebook paper and written on it were the tiny and tight lines. It wasn't her native tongue, instead she had written the list out in English. "Are some things for my father. And no," Liessel shot Avery a smile, "I don't think its extraordinary that you would want something like that. It just surprised me, that's all."
Avery accepted that easily enough. "I suppose he would like some things of his own here. Are they guesses on your part, or requests from him?"
"Guesses on my part, mostly," She told Avery, tucking the list away again, "I'd like to get him some clothes that fit him better than what they have been able to offer him. Their generosity has been wonderful, but I think he needs it. And some more -- personal things, like a razor, and comb -- things like that. Its just what I could think of to help him feel a little more at home where he is, and a little less like he's just a guest there."
"Is he talking more?"
"He is," She was happy to report, "I haven't been able to get him to talk to me about what happened with Giessler, yet, but he is full questions when he's awake. I told him about Denver, and what happened with World B-2, and he wants to know everything he can be told about this place we brought him to."
Looking at her, Avery waited--but not for long. "How did he respond to those stories? Your exploits?"
"I," Her expression shifted as she began to answer, her brows lifting a little as she shook her head, "Honestly, he looked horrified. Horrified and very proud. He was white as a ghost when I told him why we had gone, and how we'd gotten there, and sick when I told him about the beastly creatures that Felix and I had run into with the leathery wings, and bat-like faces -- men turned demon; and when I told him about Mrs Lippmann and what happened with the ma-- the thing she had with him. But he was captivated, too, and beamed when I told him how I had caught Felix so high up above the ground, how I had gone with the fairy without hesitation no matter what it had meant for me, and how we had helped Mister Lipmann along the way. With the story of World B-2, I do not think he quite knew how to process it after the story of Denver. But I think it made him angry that someone would take a child like that."
It had been some time since Avery had really thought about Persephone. He thought that he should ask after her with Father Camejo. Yes. Here and now, he moved on to considering Horan. "I'm glad he has the wit to be proud now. It's about time."
Liessel gave a gentle nod, letting it sit there for a moment as they passed by a few people that she needed to be mindful of with both her skirt, and her parasol. It required a minor shift closer to Avery, but once passed them she shifted away again, "I have thought a lot over the past few days of asking him to stay here, to not return to Harroway once he is better. But I do not know if he will accept, and I haven't mentioned it to Aurelia yet."
"I thought he was here to stay," Avery admitted, glancing at her. "I suppose it didn't occur to me to ask him, I'm ashamed to say."
"I had been on the fence about it, to be honest. When we -- well when everything came out into the open while we were there, I wasn't sure how I felt about staying close to him after everything. I had asked, in a note I left for Septimius, to see the farm rebuilt for him so he'd have some place to return to," The parasol against her shoulder shifted slightly in her grasp and she found herself looking toward Avery for a brief moment, "But the longer I am with him, the more I realize that I do not want him going back there. My life is here, and I have so much going on. I'd like for him to be a part of that, to see what I can do now that I've begun finding my feet beneath me. And he's my father. I do not want to be that distanced from him. He knows, and understands, that we are quite a ways off from Harroway, but I don't think he grasps just how far that is yet."
"He was separated from you and people he's known his entire life for a long time while Giessler had him. Now that he's free, he's still separated from them." Avery wasn't sure which shop Liessel was aimed at first, and was subtly watching for her cues as they talked. "It's a delicate situation."
"It is," Liessel agreed, "It is why I haven't brought it up to him just yet. I'd like for him to be a little stronger, a little more aware than he is already before I ask something like that of him. I don't want him to feel as if I were trying to force his hand, and I think asking him now would feel like that for him."
She was keeping her eye on shops as they passed. The one she was looking for hadn't been seen yet -- or maybe it had and she'd missed it. They had to be close to it. She recognized the other shops they were passing.
With a frown, Liessel slipped her hand free from his arm and pulled out her list once more, "Do you know where Thistleworth's General Store is?" She asked after a moment, reading the name from her own small script before looking his way again. This time, when she took Avery's arm, she didn't bother putting her little handwritten reminder away.
"Mm? Yes. This way." He pointed and waited until she was on the right track before he met her pace again. "What about you? Do you feel that you can have the relationship with him that you want, if he stays?"
It was easy to fall back into step once she knew which way they were heading. Their paces matched, Liessel kept her little list pinched between her fingers which were once more laid lightly against his suit sleeve, "I think so -- I hope so, at any rate. I do know that I would like to try for it. I believe him, and what he said when he told me that they were only trying to look out for me. I have hope that it means that, should he stay, he will be willing to have that relationship that we couldn't have in Harroway."
"I hope so, too," Avery told her gently. Up ahead the Thistleworth sign came into view. Brightening, Avery said, "I suppose I should, in the spirit of your gifts, send something back to Harroway at next opportunity. I was thinking a crate of handkerchiefs for your uncle."
"I think," Liessel said, a wide smile growing across her lips accompanied by a little laugh that filled her words as she tilted her parasol to catch sight of the shop sign ahead, "Uncle Jonnah would appreciate that very much. I do not think he's ever seen fabric so fine as anything in London, and he would certainly get proper use out of them."
"So I saw." Avery kept other thoughts to himself. Like that he longed for an opportunity to go back and perhaps meet her people in a way he had not been able to--welcome to--the first time. He kept them to himself because they served no real purpose, and he wasn't certain he'd be any more embraced a second time than what he remembered. He might someday like to pay a visit to Yaran and Ilky, at least... "I'll see what I can do."
Her lace covered fingers against his sleeve gave as good of a gentle squeeze as they could while still holding onto her list.
"Thank you, Avery. You are very kind." Those words she had said over and over again so many times since coming to his doorstep, and that made them no less true to her. "I would offer to help pay for such a thing, but seeing as the money I get comes from you anyway I don't think it would make much of a difference."
That made him glance at her, arching a brow. "It makes a difference. But, you know, Liessel... I hadn't thought about that in a long time. Do you think it might feel better to you if that income were more independent? More your own?"
"No," Her answer was quick, slamming down against the realization of how that might have sounded to him. Her snap reaction to her own words had her frowning, and shaking her head, "That -- I , uhm," Her shoulders settled, and she shook her head again, glancing his way, "If that sounded as if I were ungrateful, it was not my intention. But, in honesty, I have thought a few times about trying to find a job if not for the income, then for simply having something to do with my time. However, I would not know where to look, or what to do. There does not seem to be much opportunities in your fine city for someone of my background."
"If that sounded as if I were ungrateful--"
"No--not at all--"
"--was not my intention...."
Avery waited her out, slowing to a halt outside of Thistleworth General Store so they wouldn't carry this inside with them. When she'd concluded, he said, "First: you didn't strike me as ungrateful. Second: there's nothing pending for us at the moment, but if, upon our return, business were to pick up, there might be work at ours. The drawback to that would be that you already know all of us, of course, and a different setting might offer you expanded horizons." He'd offered those ideas as neutrally as he knew how; he wasn't trying to color her thinking either way. "What I'd been thinking originally, however, was that it's high time I should give you control of the investments that fund you, if you would enjoy that. I'd introduce you to my man, and show you how that works, so in the future yours is the name on the documents."
He slowed, and she slowed with him until they had come to a stop outside of Thistleworth's. With her parasol still poised over her shoulder, Liessel turned toward him as she listened.
"That sounds like a lot," She wound up saying, "But I think I would like to continue working with -- for Flynn and Flynn? Is that -- the right phrasing?" Her brow drew down for a moment as she tried to work that out for herself internally while her thoughts strung themselves together, "I could always volunteer any of my free time at Father McKellen's church, or a charity house. If I am taking up those investments, and working for you, then I wouldn't need to worry about finding a job elsewhere. --Is it hard to manage investments?"
"No--and you would have me and Mister Howard Nesbeth's advice, if you wanted either, naturally. It would be as involving, or as detached from you, as you would like. Mister Nesbeth is well-trusted by me."
"Then," that one word was drawn out and slowly spoken as Liessel rolled that around in her head. It felt like a big step. A huge step. An intimidating step. What did she know of finances and caring for things like that? Very little on her own, but as Avery had just said he would be there to give advice as would Mister Nesbeth so she wouldn't be on her own and trying to figure it out. "Alright. I -- would like that, I think. At the very least it sounds like a very good learning opportunity."
"I'd not push you from the nest before you learn to fly," Avery said with a half-grin, and nodded. "I'll see to it--though it may not be official before Saturday when we depart." Something that she'd said stuck in his ear, though, and he cocked his head. "You enjoy the atmosphere of that church, don't you?"
--though it may not be official before Saturday --
Liessel curled her fingers down against the sleeve of his suit, keeping herself from slipping it free to thank him in her most curious and natural way. Placing her hand to her heart might not draw many an eye, but she was still practicing due caution with a lot of things she tended to do when in public.
Her hand relaxed against his sleeve and she gave him a small nod, and a little smile, "I find it peaceful to be there. A great deal about it reminds me of being in the temple. There's a sense of -- balance -- to the place that I haven't really felt anywhere else."
He nodded slowly, the quirked grin softening. "I'm glad you found it, Liessel. Very glad."
"I am too," Liessel told Avery, "Having a place like that to go to helped me to find ways to adjust to your strange world," She wore a smile again, though this one was tinted with a hint of bashfulness, "It was very much a sense of the familiar in the middle of things I couldn't possibly begin to understand."
Avery hadn't had the opportunity to ask her what she thought of the beliefs taught there, and he didn't think it appropriate now. They stood in Mayfair; she had an errand; but his curiosity was undeniable. What was more important anyway was a softer topic: "Did you just stumble upon it? --I admit, I was surprised to learn that you'd gone out on your own and made a friend of a stranger."
The bashfulness in her smile grew until she had to break eye contact with Avery, and look down for a moment to try and get a hold of it before it ran away from her and took her ability to answer with it, "I had gone out for some things when I happened across it. Something about the place just called to me so I went inside and found a seat. Father McKellen was in the middle of a sermon -- I had no idea what he had been talking about, but I listened all the same. I couldn't bring myself to leave so I just sat there. After awhile, Father McKellen came over and sat next to me."
Nodding thoughtfully, Avery thought about the man he'd met. He stayed silent so that Liessel could go on. He understood her explanation for why she'd kept her friends so utterly separate from the priest, and yet there lingered a sense that perhaps she'd longed for something of her own. Now he thought that maybe she'd longed for something of her own, and familiar, and protectively had kept it shielded from the Flynns' pragmatic skepticism, from Aurelia who-had-been-a-Dark-Thing, and from the hard-charging bluster of some of their other companions of the time.
She took a breath, aware that the shop she had been looking for was behind them. The bell jangled on the door each time it opened as a soft little reminder that they stood on the sidewalk in front of it while life in Mayfair did what life in Mayfair did. "For a while we just sat there in silence. The longer I sat the more the peace of the place settled in until I could no longer just sit there. Memories of Harroway took over my thoughts and I remember just starting to cry. I remember feeling so scared and homesick," she had to pause and measure herself out as the well of that stared at her from within the shadow of those days, "Before I knew it, his hand was holding mine and he was whispering something to me. I didn't really understand, but his tone was comforting. He sat with me there, just holding my hand and waiting with me. After a while he started talking again, telling me stories of angels and demons and their never ending battle. He said," here she smiled a little, "Whatever evils, whatever demons, I was fighting he knew it would be alright. God above could see me, and was with me, and so I was in good hands. And it reminded me so much of what I had been taught. I could not stop myself from going back to speak with him again after that."
No wonder.
Liessel wouldn't have gotten that talk from a single one of her then-new allies. Not one.
Avery nodded very slowly, eyes on hers. "I'm glad you found someone that good. I suppose it was 'luck' as little as what brought you to us."
"Luck," She said, reaching for Avery's hand, "And the universe certainly knew what it was doing when it brought us all together. I could not have dropped myself onto the laps of better people if I had tried."
His hand met hers and he gave hers a joking little shake. "Miss Erphale, the honor has been ours."
The smile that swept over her was wide and warm, "Indeed, Mister Flynn. Indeed." She did her best to sound like other young ladies she'd heard, not so much in accent but certainly in cadence. Then she was letting the smile slip a little bit, "Before I see to my list, just one more thing -- I do not want to forget to ask it later. Mister Whitmoor. Is he still staying with you?"
"He is." Curiosity lent a subtle glow to Avery's features.
"I would like to look in on him," Liessel told him, "He came to me in a state after our conversation in the temple, and was not doing too well with the news of Gerold's -- ailment. I feel I did not offer him the kind of support he needed because of where I was myself."
Avery frowned at that. Eli hadn't said a word to him since they'd been back about it. That he had spoken with Liessel came as a gently pleasant surprise. "That's kind of you," he told her quietly. Thinking on her, on Eli, and on Gerold's situation, after a moment he said: "Sometimes it's made clear that it's the softer troubles that are harder to cope with than the ones that come at you at a charge. That might be where Eli is with this right now."
From Liessel came a gentle nod, "I think he's looking for some sense that someone who loves Gerold as much as he does might have some answers for the problem. I do not know if I have any more perspective than I did that night, but my head is at least a little bit clearer, and that might be enough to give Mister Whitmoor something."
"I wonder if he might have something to offer back." Nodding, sighing, Avery felt the weight of his place in all of this as he had for months. At least to him it was no longer what it had been for a time. They'd saved Horan. They'd stopped Giessler. And though he had found himself unable to ask for it, now that the chance to go and be at ease for a while was real, it did feel as if that was a good and earned path. For a time. Still, it was hard for him to let go completely of the knowledge of where everyone around him was, while he was about to leave.
This helped.
The sense that Liessel and Eli might reach out to each other.
Avery hadn't really expected it. "It speaks tremendously of your friendship that you're willing to look past the meat in his hat."
That earned Avery a laugh from the young once-priestess, and all the same she reached to place her hand lightly against Avery's arm. Because she knew. She could see the weight where it settled on him. "I am willing so long as he does not insist on making it a new fashion statement. Something tells me London isn't quite ready for that look yet."
"Not the parts we fancy, at any rate." He laughed, too, and nodded in acknowledgement of her touch. "Thank you, Liessel. I wish I could do more for you all."
"I know you do, Avery," her hand at his arm gave a gentle squeeze, "I think we are very much alike in that way. You give so much of yourself to others, and you keep giving no matter what. You do more than enough, Mister Flynn, and we are grateful for it. But it is also easy to see how tired you've become from it. You do not need to do anymore than you have already. Promise me that you will let yourself rest while you are gone."
A joke came to his lips, but it was out of place, and he reached over to cover her hand with his as he nodded. "You have that promise."
Beneath the hand that he placed over her own, Liessel gave another gentle squeeze. No words were needed to answer that but she did tip her head forward in acknowledgement of it. If they had been out of public view that gentle touch would have been placed differently. A bridge would have been made of it between her heart and his. Out there, though, on the sidewalk in front of Thistleworth's it would have to do.
She was some distance away from Knightsbridge now, this outing having taken her away from her sanctuary and home and out into the streets of London. She had cut through Hyde Park, clipping just the edge of Belgravia to head into Mayfair.
Across her arm, along with her parasol, was looped a basket of woven design that she had a folded piece of cloth in. These things were hugged close to her, as she dodged past people along her way. There was nothing quick about it, and no real rush. But there was a list, and there were shops she needed to get to before they closed.
She had come out wearing one of her favored dresses. It was made of cream-colored fabric and detailed with light peach at the collars and cuffs. She'd come without the matching coat, but it was warm enough outside that there was no chance of chill. Her hands were covered in a pair of lace gloves, in a color very close to that of her dress, and to that of the hat she wore low down over her brow to both hide the mark there, and to make room for the braid she had pinned in place at the back of her head.
On a brilliant afternoon such as this, the approach to Mayfair, and Mayfair itself, had an easy bustle. The jaunty clop of shod horses and the sway of carriages and coaches did not much clash with the rich variety of voices murmuring, laughing, and rolling between shops. Every now and then, carried forward by cobblestones and tossed ahead by shopfronts, the rhythmic rattle of the odd motorcar--a Cadillac, even!--drew looks and a little anticipation before the vehicle even turned a corner into view.
Many here had by this time seen motorcars, be they shipped from America or from the Continent, or built right here in England, but the sound was alien to this city yet, alien to the tempo of this world, and so the machines still had the power to cause conversations to pause, children to point, and glowers to be had from some quarters. The ones that tapped along up the streets did so slowly, their drivers taken nearly to a man to a certain brand of countrified fashion, and left a smack of hot smoke in their wake. They tended, for the most part, to follow two sorts of main designs, if one ignored the out-of-reach Gaunt-Schrabers, and to either look like a typical open-top coach with a stub shoved to the front, or like something spun down from the car of a train, with a barrel-like heart that held the driver and (rarely) a passenger behind him. They were novelties. Status symbols. But still wildly undesirable to those who detested the noise and the smell, and considered impractical.
But there was another noise that came after the last motorcar disappeared up the way.
This noise came, soft at first, from the sky.
It came in behind the sound of pennants and chatter, a low swoop of something that the ears could find but the mind not name.
As it grew and began to take over the sky, the same hush fell over Mayfair's pedestrians and patrons, but this time they got up from their chairs and moved a bit, to watch the sky for a golden ship they'd glimpsed or heard about before.
Liessel, like any other number of people sitting out under the sun, or going about their day and errands on those sidewalks of Mayfair, turned an eye toward the rumble and roar of automobiles when they passed by. She was not immune to the allure of them, and could appreciate the level of wealth that was needed to obtain one and to keep it running.
Not many could even come close to the low rumble-hum purr of the Gaunt-Schraber, and as she watched them pass she could not help but be reminded of just how different vehicles could be.
She was still watching where the last one had gone, her steps having stopped her at the edge of a crossing, when the world hushed around her. It took a few moments for it to hit Liessel's ear, but it did she was looking around to find faces turned skyward in anticipation.
Beneath that silence came something else, and the sound of it drew Liessel's attention skyward, too. Beyond her curiosity, riding like this new sound beneath the skin of the world, Liessel felt herself coiling up and readying to run.
Pharos, sketched and re-sketched and talked about on the front pages of newspapers all over the country since the middle of August, was the most identifiable airship in His Majesty's fleet. It was like no other. There was no balloon from which the ship depended. And no other ship made this sound. It was a shark of a vessel, and it gleamed from the nose down the sides, gold as amber, and flew the Union Jack aft, tiny but unmistakable.
The pride of the Aerofleet.
It sailed overhead. There was no sign of its mission, but it was easy to look up at the thing's belly and think that it looked predatory. A hunter for Britain. A protector.
Gasps of awe, and quiet murmurings of appreciation trickled through the street she was on. It was a beautiful thing, a sight to behold, there was no doubt about that. It was a wonder, to be sure, to the eyes of Londonites and to eyes that had come to London from far away.
Liessel blinked, that readiness to run diminishing within her bones, and lifted her free hand to shield her eyes as if the giant airship had thrown off a magnificent glare as it passed overhead. In truth, she was shielding her eyes from the sky surrounding the ship to try and make out details of the vessel a little bit better.
She had to wonder, as well, if this beautiful thing that the Empire had created was fueled by people, if it had been a part of the OLYMPUS project. It was those thoughts that helped to dim her appreciation for what England had accomplished. It was those thoughts that brought her hand down away from her eyes, and grounded her feet back to the sidewalk she was standing on.
There were some flashes here and there, along the underside. Mirrors, if Pharos used any of the same thinking that the designers of the Sir Francis Drake had. The better to see you with, my dear. Otherwise, there was bold black framing housing those smooth amberlike plates, and perhaps a long window along the back--hard to say--and certainly nothing of the kind along the belly itself.
Pharos cut across Mayfair, small overhead, the dream of flight, and eventually disappeared from views blocked by buildings and trees. The sound of her passage lingered for a time, shrinking, receding, as if it were the train of the ship's cloak, dragged in its wake.
By the time Mayfair sounded again like the Mayfair of a hundred years ago, and of 1702 too, many of those who had stopped to watch it fly had gone back to their business, or were threading the sighting excitedly into their conversations.
From Liessel's left, perhaps ten feet away, someone said, "It's less wonderful than it should be."
The voice belonged to Avery Flynn, and he had appeared nearby sometime during the passing of the airship, and now stood twisted, peering in the direction it had gone, wearing a pale summer suit.
"We are of like mind," she had started saying, her own eyes still locked onto the path that the ship had taken.
The world around her was becoming the world again, shifting back into motion as if someone had rewound its springs and cogs like an automation that had momentarily stopped. The ship was gone, life returned to its own flow, but the imprint of it remained.
And then the voice clicked. The sound of it met with recognition as her own thoughts of the flying creation receded, and she felt herself smile.
Of like mind, indeed.
She turned, found Avery Flynn standing there, and moved closer, "Hello, Mister Flynn." It was a more direct greeting than her initial statement, and it came with her closing the distance easily, her arms opening for an embrace if he would allow it.
After a second he turned to meet her, taking off his hat and giving her an easy hug hello as he explained, "I saw you there and didn't want to startle you." Pulling back, he grinned, "Is this your first time in Mayfair?" He looked past her, perhaps thinking Aurelia might be with her, but then took a second to study her more thoroughly, eyes taking in her basket and the fabric.
"On my own, yes, but I've been here a few times before with Aurelia. I thought today would be a good day to see it on my own," Her smile was as bright as his grin, "I really just needed to get out of the house for a while and thought it would be a good excuse to pick up some things for my father."
"How is he faring?" They fit right in, of course. Avery put his hat back on as he listened. He seemed to have come there alone, himself.
"He's doing well enough," Liessel let her hands fall, clasping them as any young lady would, with the basket grasped between them and her parasol hooked, now, about her wrist, "Every day that passes is a day that he is a little more alert. His strength, though," Her smile wavered, and she shook her head a little bit, "That will take a while."
They could have been talking about anyone, it felt like. Any ill father that might have passed through the hands of a London hospital, or physician's office. It was just another conversation happening on a corner, just like the many conversations that came before and those that would come after.
Avery, who knew at least about Liessel that she did not easily offer particulars relevant to her personal experience, considered her for a moment before saying anything. "You still feel that the Bells is offering him a chance at restoration?"
"I think for now, yes. He is doing well there. He seems to be enjoying the company that the people there offer, too." Her smile was back, if a little sly, "I think he likes hearing the stories they tell him." The sly-ness receded as she continued, "Though, I have been thinking about taking him out to the country when he is well enough."
"You have?" Eyebrows raised, Avery registered the strangeness of this sort of idea from Liessel. Pleased, he added, "Does anyplace in particular strike your fancy?"
"I don't know," This I don't know came with a smile and a shake of her head, unlike others that had come with frowns and an inward sense of despair, "I haven't looked into anything in particular just yet. I'd like to go somewhere where there is room for riding, and where the stars can be seen at night. Those are my only two demands of any place that I might take him."
Riding?
The one time Avery had been aware of Liessel on horseback was Denver. The idea that that had somehow endeared her to it made him laugh. Briefly, something occurred to him, and he stole a moment to say, "I don't mean to keep you. May I walk with you to wherever you're going?"
The laugh of Avery Flynn made her smile warmer.
I don't mean to keep you. Avery had then said and Liessel had begun to answer with a shake of her head and a Not at all. But then she found herself really looking at him where he stood, and found herself asking in return, "Felix and Mister Fletcher are not with you? -- That is, you aren't going to be missed if I say 'yes'?"
"Oh no. I'm here troublemaking all by myself." Turning, he offered her his arm--while at the same time holding out a hand in silent offer of carrying her basket for her.
"London beware," she said, teasing while also letting him take the basket from her. Before taking his arm, though, Liessel took a moment to unfurl her parasol and prop it against her shoulder. The offered arm was then taken, her lace covered fingers lightly resting against the sleeve of his pale suit. It was only then that she asked, "What kind of trouble are you planning today, Mister Flynn?"
Strolling on, before them Mayfair had already resumed its usual chatter and pace. Avery said, "Just making some arrangements for while we're away. I might need rest, but that doesn't mean I don't have work to do. I'm simply delegating. --Only now I'm picturing you riding the hills, the sun on you, and wondering how I might help make this happen for you."
"You've already got so much to do, so many preperations to make, Avery. You do not need to help with that. I was thinking of asking around at The Bells to see if anyone knew of a place I could rent, or board at but I am not so certain of asking for something like that there. Adam is surely no danger, but if someone is speaking with Slake about things, that is information I'd rather he not have. Father McKellen might know of a place -- I might ask Victoria, too."
Avery nodded thoughtfully, and said, "Trust your instincts. Send a postcard to the house?"
Liessel's head tipped forward in a small nod, and then she found herself looking up at Avery, a delicately curved eyebrow lifting a little, "A postcard? I didn’t know you collected them."
"You make it sound extraordinary that I might enjoy a memento from the first leisurely outing you're to undertake for yourself here." He arched a brow at her. "Speaking of a smaller version of that... Is your errand today also leisurely?" He raised the basket slightly for emphasis.
"Partly," She said, answering his question first, "The other part --" Her hand slipped away from his arm for a moment so that she could draw her list out from the pocket of her dress. It was a small corner of notebook paper and written on it were the tiny and tight lines. It wasn't her native tongue, instead she had written the list out in English. "Are some things for my father. And no," Liessel shot Avery a smile, "I don't think its extraordinary that you would want something like that. It just surprised me, that's all."
Avery accepted that easily enough. "I suppose he would like some things of his own here. Are they guesses on your part, or requests from him?"
"Guesses on my part, mostly," She told Avery, tucking the list away again, "I'd like to get him some clothes that fit him better than what they have been able to offer him. Their generosity has been wonderful, but I think he needs it. And some more -- personal things, like a razor, and comb -- things like that. Its just what I could think of to help him feel a little more at home where he is, and a little less like he's just a guest there."
"Is he talking more?"
"He is," She was happy to report, "I haven't been able to get him to talk to me about what happened with Giessler, yet, but he is full questions when he's awake. I told him about Denver, and what happened with World B-2, and he wants to know everything he can be told about this place we brought him to."
Looking at her, Avery waited--but not for long. "How did he respond to those stories? Your exploits?"
"I," Her expression shifted as she began to answer, her brows lifting a little as she shook her head, "Honestly, he looked horrified. Horrified and very proud. He was white as a ghost when I told him why we had gone, and how we'd gotten there, and sick when I told him about the beastly creatures that Felix and I had run into with the leathery wings, and bat-like faces -- men turned demon; and when I told him about Mrs Lippmann and what happened with the ma-- the thing she had with him. But he was captivated, too, and beamed when I told him how I had caught Felix so high up above the ground, how I had gone with the fairy without hesitation no matter what it had meant for me, and how we had helped Mister Lipmann along the way. With the story of World B-2, I do not think he quite knew how to process it after the story of Denver. But I think it made him angry that someone would take a child like that."
It had been some time since Avery had really thought about Persephone. He thought that he should ask after her with Father Camejo. Yes. Here and now, he moved on to considering Horan. "I'm glad he has the wit to be proud now. It's about time."
Liessel gave a gentle nod, letting it sit there for a moment as they passed by a few people that she needed to be mindful of with both her skirt, and her parasol. It required a minor shift closer to Avery, but once passed them she shifted away again, "I have thought a lot over the past few days of asking him to stay here, to not return to Harroway once he is better. But I do not know if he will accept, and I haven't mentioned it to Aurelia yet."
"I thought he was here to stay," Avery admitted, glancing at her. "I suppose it didn't occur to me to ask him, I'm ashamed to say."
"I had been on the fence about it, to be honest. When we -- well when everything came out into the open while we were there, I wasn't sure how I felt about staying close to him after everything. I had asked, in a note I left for Septimius, to see the farm rebuilt for him so he'd have some place to return to," The parasol against her shoulder shifted slightly in her grasp and she found herself looking toward Avery for a brief moment, "But the longer I am with him, the more I realize that I do not want him going back there. My life is here, and I have so much going on. I'd like for him to be a part of that, to see what I can do now that I've begun finding my feet beneath me. And he's my father. I do not want to be that distanced from him. He knows, and understands, that we are quite a ways off from Harroway, but I don't think he grasps just how far that is yet."
"He was separated from you and people he's known his entire life for a long time while Giessler had him. Now that he's free, he's still separated from them." Avery wasn't sure which shop Liessel was aimed at first, and was subtly watching for her cues as they talked. "It's a delicate situation."
"It is," Liessel agreed, "It is why I haven't brought it up to him just yet. I'd like for him to be a little stronger, a little more aware than he is already before I ask something like that of him. I don't want him to feel as if I were trying to force his hand, and I think asking him now would feel like that for him."
She was keeping her eye on shops as they passed. The one she was looking for hadn't been seen yet -- or maybe it had and she'd missed it. They had to be close to it. She recognized the other shops they were passing.
With a frown, Liessel slipped her hand free from his arm and pulled out her list once more, "Do you know where Thistleworth's General Store is?" She asked after a moment, reading the name from her own small script before looking his way again. This time, when she took Avery's arm, she didn't bother putting her little handwritten reminder away.
"Mm? Yes. This way." He pointed and waited until she was on the right track before he met her pace again. "What about you? Do you feel that you can have the relationship with him that you want, if he stays?"
It was easy to fall back into step once she knew which way they were heading. Their paces matched, Liessel kept her little list pinched between her fingers which were once more laid lightly against his suit sleeve, "I think so -- I hope so, at any rate. I do know that I would like to try for it. I believe him, and what he said when he told me that they were only trying to look out for me. I have hope that it means that, should he stay, he will be willing to have that relationship that we couldn't have in Harroway."
"I hope so, too," Avery told her gently. Up ahead the Thistleworth sign came into view. Brightening, Avery said, "I suppose I should, in the spirit of your gifts, send something back to Harroway at next opportunity. I was thinking a crate of handkerchiefs for your uncle."
"I think," Liessel said, a wide smile growing across her lips accompanied by a little laugh that filled her words as she tilted her parasol to catch sight of the shop sign ahead, "Uncle Jonnah would appreciate that very much. I do not think he's ever seen fabric so fine as anything in London, and he would certainly get proper use out of them."
"So I saw." Avery kept other thoughts to himself. Like that he longed for an opportunity to go back and perhaps meet her people in a way he had not been able to--welcome to--the first time. He kept them to himself because they served no real purpose, and he wasn't certain he'd be any more embraced a second time than what he remembered. He might someday like to pay a visit to Yaran and Ilky, at least... "I'll see what I can do."
Her lace covered fingers against his sleeve gave as good of a gentle squeeze as they could while still holding onto her list.
"Thank you, Avery. You are very kind." Those words she had said over and over again so many times since coming to his doorstep, and that made them no less true to her. "I would offer to help pay for such a thing, but seeing as the money I get comes from you anyway I don't think it would make much of a difference."
That made him glance at her, arching a brow. "It makes a difference. But, you know, Liessel... I hadn't thought about that in a long time. Do you think it might feel better to you if that income were more independent? More your own?"
"No," Her answer was quick, slamming down against the realization of how that might have sounded to him. Her snap reaction to her own words had her frowning, and shaking her head, "That -- I , uhm," Her shoulders settled, and she shook her head again, glancing his way, "If that sounded as if I were ungrateful, it was not my intention. But, in honesty, I have thought a few times about trying to find a job if not for the income, then for simply having something to do with my time. However, I would not know where to look, or what to do. There does not seem to be much opportunities in your fine city for someone of my background."
"If that sounded as if I were ungrateful--"
"No--not at all--"
"--was not my intention...."
Avery waited her out, slowing to a halt outside of Thistleworth General Store so they wouldn't carry this inside with them. When she'd concluded, he said, "First: you didn't strike me as ungrateful. Second: there's nothing pending for us at the moment, but if, upon our return, business were to pick up, there might be work at ours. The drawback to that would be that you already know all of us, of course, and a different setting might offer you expanded horizons." He'd offered those ideas as neutrally as he knew how; he wasn't trying to color her thinking either way. "What I'd been thinking originally, however, was that it's high time I should give you control of the investments that fund you, if you would enjoy that. I'd introduce you to my man, and show you how that works, so in the future yours is the name on the documents."
He slowed, and she slowed with him until they had come to a stop outside of Thistleworth's. With her parasol still poised over her shoulder, Liessel turned toward him as she listened.
"That sounds like a lot," She wound up saying, "But I think I would like to continue working with -- for Flynn and Flynn? Is that -- the right phrasing?" Her brow drew down for a moment as she tried to work that out for herself internally while her thoughts strung themselves together, "I could always volunteer any of my free time at Father McKellen's church, or a charity house. If I am taking up those investments, and working for you, then I wouldn't need to worry about finding a job elsewhere. --Is it hard to manage investments?"
"No--and you would have me and Mister Howard Nesbeth's advice, if you wanted either, naturally. It would be as involving, or as detached from you, as you would like. Mister Nesbeth is well-trusted by me."
"Then," that one word was drawn out and slowly spoken as Liessel rolled that around in her head. It felt like a big step. A huge step. An intimidating step. What did she know of finances and caring for things like that? Very little on her own, but as Avery had just said he would be there to give advice as would Mister Nesbeth so she wouldn't be on her own and trying to figure it out. "Alright. I -- would like that, I think. At the very least it sounds like a very good learning opportunity."
"I'd not push you from the nest before you learn to fly," Avery said with a half-grin, and nodded. "I'll see to it--though it may not be official before Saturday when we depart." Something that she'd said stuck in his ear, though, and he cocked his head. "You enjoy the atmosphere of that church, don't you?"
--though it may not be official before Saturday --
Liessel curled her fingers down against the sleeve of his suit, keeping herself from slipping it free to thank him in her most curious and natural way. Placing her hand to her heart might not draw many an eye, but she was still practicing due caution with a lot of things she tended to do when in public.
Her hand relaxed against his sleeve and she gave him a small nod, and a little smile, "I find it peaceful to be there. A great deal about it reminds me of being in the temple. There's a sense of -- balance -- to the place that I haven't really felt anywhere else."
He nodded slowly, the quirked grin softening. "I'm glad you found it, Liessel. Very glad."
"I am too," Liessel told Avery, "Having a place like that to go to helped me to find ways to adjust to your strange world," She wore a smile again, though this one was tinted with a hint of bashfulness, "It was very much a sense of the familiar in the middle of things I couldn't possibly begin to understand."
Avery hadn't had the opportunity to ask her what she thought of the beliefs taught there, and he didn't think it appropriate now. They stood in Mayfair; she had an errand; but his curiosity was undeniable. What was more important anyway was a softer topic: "Did you just stumble upon it? --I admit, I was surprised to learn that you'd gone out on your own and made a friend of a stranger."
The bashfulness in her smile grew until she had to break eye contact with Avery, and look down for a moment to try and get a hold of it before it ran away from her and took her ability to answer with it, "I had gone out for some things when I happened across it. Something about the place just called to me so I went inside and found a seat. Father McKellen was in the middle of a sermon -- I had no idea what he had been talking about, but I listened all the same. I couldn't bring myself to leave so I just sat there. After awhile, Father McKellen came over and sat next to me."
Nodding thoughtfully, Avery thought about the man he'd met. He stayed silent so that Liessel could go on. He understood her explanation for why she'd kept her friends so utterly separate from the priest, and yet there lingered a sense that perhaps she'd longed for something of her own. Now he thought that maybe she'd longed for something of her own, and familiar, and protectively had kept it shielded from the Flynns' pragmatic skepticism, from Aurelia who-had-been-a-Dark-Thing, and from the hard-charging bluster of some of their other companions of the time.
She took a breath, aware that the shop she had been looking for was behind them. The bell jangled on the door each time it opened as a soft little reminder that they stood on the sidewalk in front of it while life in Mayfair did what life in Mayfair did. "For a while we just sat there in silence. The longer I sat the more the peace of the place settled in until I could no longer just sit there. Memories of Harroway took over my thoughts and I remember just starting to cry. I remember feeling so scared and homesick," she had to pause and measure herself out as the well of that stared at her from within the shadow of those days, "Before I knew it, his hand was holding mine and he was whispering something to me. I didn't really understand, but his tone was comforting. He sat with me there, just holding my hand and waiting with me. After a while he started talking again, telling me stories of angels and demons and their never ending battle. He said," here she smiled a little, "Whatever evils, whatever demons, I was fighting he knew it would be alright. God above could see me, and was with me, and so I was in good hands. And it reminded me so much of what I had been taught. I could not stop myself from going back to speak with him again after that."
No wonder.
Liessel wouldn't have gotten that talk from a single one of her then-new allies. Not one.
Avery nodded very slowly, eyes on hers. "I'm glad you found someone that good. I suppose it was 'luck' as little as what brought you to us."
"Luck," She said, reaching for Avery's hand, "And the universe certainly knew what it was doing when it brought us all together. I could not have dropped myself onto the laps of better people if I had tried."
His hand met hers and he gave hers a joking little shake. "Miss Erphale, the honor has been ours."
The smile that swept over her was wide and warm, "Indeed, Mister Flynn. Indeed." She did her best to sound like other young ladies she'd heard, not so much in accent but certainly in cadence. Then she was letting the smile slip a little bit, "Before I see to my list, just one more thing -- I do not want to forget to ask it later. Mister Whitmoor. Is he still staying with you?"
"He is." Curiosity lent a subtle glow to Avery's features.
"I would like to look in on him," Liessel told him, "He came to me in a state after our conversation in the temple, and was not doing too well with the news of Gerold's -- ailment. I feel I did not offer him the kind of support he needed because of where I was myself."
Avery frowned at that. Eli hadn't said a word to him since they'd been back about it. That he had spoken with Liessel came as a gently pleasant surprise. "That's kind of you," he told her quietly. Thinking on her, on Eli, and on Gerold's situation, after a moment he said: "Sometimes it's made clear that it's the softer troubles that are harder to cope with than the ones that come at you at a charge. That might be where Eli is with this right now."
From Liessel came a gentle nod, "I think he's looking for some sense that someone who loves Gerold as much as he does might have some answers for the problem. I do not know if I have any more perspective than I did that night, but my head is at least a little bit clearer, and that might be enough to give Mister Whitmoor something."
"I wonder if he might have something to offer back." Nodding, sighing, Avery felt the weight of his place in all of this as he had for months. At least to him it was no longer what it had been for a time. They'd saved Horan. They'd stopped Giessler. And though he had found himself unable to ask for it, now that the chance to go and be at ease for a while was real, it did feel as if that was a good and earned path. For a time. Still, it was hard for him to let go completely of the knowledge of where everyone around him was, while he was about to leave.
This helped.
The sense that Liessel and Eli might reach out to each other.
Avery hadn't really expected it. "It speaks tremendously of your friendship that you're willing to look past the meat in his hat."
That earned Avery a laugh from the young once-priestess, and all the same she reached to place her hand lightly against Avery's arm. Because she knew. She could see the weight where it settled on him. "I am willing so long as he does not insist on making it a new fashion statement. Something tells me London isn't quite ready for that look yet."
"Not the parts we fancy, at any rate." He laughed, too, and nodded in acknowledgement of her touch. "Thank you, Liessel. I wish I could do more for you all."
"I know you do, Avery," her hand at his arm gave a gentle squeeze, "I think we are very much alike in that way. You give so much of yourself to others, and you keep giving no matter what. You do more than enough, Mister Flynn, and we are grateful for it. But it is also easy to see how tired you've become from it. You do not need to do anymore than you have already. Promise me that you will let yourself rest while you are gone."
A joke came to his lips, but it was out of place, and he reached over to cover her hand with his as he nodded. "You have that promise."
Beneath the hand that he placed over her own, Liessel gave another gentle squeeze. No words were needed to answer that but she did tip her head forward in acknowledgement of it. If they had been out of public view that gentle touch would have been placed differently. A bridge would have been made of it between her heart and his. Out there, though, on the sidewalk in front of Thistleworth's it would have to do.