Harrow reclines on Gideon's shoulder and watches Gideon fondly. Harrow sleeps rarely but sleeps like the dead; Gideon can glide in and out of catnaps all day long, and often does, when an afternoon takes a pleasant turn like this one. That's why there's a small stack of interesting texts on the end table nearby.
But for now the broken umbrella lies still and watches the anatomical dummy drift off. She leans forward to kiss Gideon's cheek.
In a moment she will take up her notes again; in a moment. For now, however, in the twilight, she drifts...
(It's always the same dream these days. The throne of skulls. The cliff. The shriek of seabirds, but there are no seabirds at Canaan House. That ocean is dead and rotting.
There are two thrones, one for her and one for Palamedes Sextus. She does not see Camilla Hect. She does not see Gideon.
Palamedes looks at her with muddy earth-coloured eyes and says, "It's wrong. There's a flaw in the underlying logic. It's an ugly mistake." He doesn't move his lips--nothing moves in this dream, in this one eternal snapshot--but he still says it)
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But for now the broken umbrella lies still and watches the anatomical dummy drift off. She leans forward to kiss Gideon's cheek.
In a moment she will take up her notes again; in a moment. For now, however, in the twilight, she drifts...
(It's always the same dream these days. The throne of skulls. The cliff. The shriek of seabirds, but there are no seabirds at Canaan House. That ocean is dead and rotting.
There are two thrones, one for her and one for Palamedes Sextus. She does not see Camilla Hect. She does not see Gideon.
Palamedes looks at her with muddy earth-coloured eyes and says, "It's wrong. There's a flaw in the underlying logic. It's an ugly mistake." He doesn't move his lips--nothing moves in this dream, in this one eternal snapshot--but he still says it)