Éowyn feels it also, this sense of farewell; though surely that is a useless fear. She had always known he could not stay in the Houses forever, so why does this feel so miserable a result? She presses her lips together for a moment to keep them from trembling in the wake of the press of his mouth against the backs of her hands.
"Yes, you will," she affirms softly once she's gathered her wits once more, smiling slightly-- and a bit sadly, feeling bereft in ways she can't explain once Faramir lets go of her hands. "Sleep well, Faramir."
She bids him thus though she has a suspicion they shall both rest fitfully tonight -- if indeed they will find rest at all. Once Faramir is gone, she sits in the garden for a long while by herself, trying to wrap her mind around what happened; and to untangle her own complicated emotions, contemplating the future also.
Just as Éowyn had expected, sleep does not come easily that night, and the following morning she keeps getting distracted by thoughts of how Faramir fares-- how he must be feeling, on the cusp of this ceremony she knows he has no real desire for. As she breaks fast, she privately rues the fact that she has not a finer dress than the simple white frock supplied by the Houses, and makes inquiries from her maid who promises to look into it. A few hours later, a simple but pretty gown of palest powder blue is delivered to her-- gifted, no doubt, by some kind lady of the City. Beggars cannot be choosers, Éowyn decides. The dress is a little too tight about the shoulders, but otherwise serviceable. At least it is something different for the occasion than her convalescent frock.
The timing could not have been better either, as the messenger Faramir has sent arrives soon after. Éowyn dons the starry mantle, her golden hair brushed into a gleam and left unbound to tumble down her back.
Éowyn realizes abruptly that she is somewhat nervous to meet Faramir again after last night, but determinedly tamps down on such unease. She is to support him, not to dwell on anything else. Yet, as she follows the messenger escorting her out of the Houses, she cannot help the anxious churning in the pit of her stomach.
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timeasmymeasure
more satisfying that way. :3
Date: 2018-11-30 03:24 pm (UTC)"Yes, you will," she affirms softly once she's gathered her wits once more, smiling slightly-- and a bit sadly, feeling bereft in ways she can't explain once Faramir lets go of her hands. "Sleep well, Faramir."
She bids him thus though she has a suspicion they shall both rest fitfully tonight -- if indeed they will find rest at all. Once Faramir is gone, she sits in the garden for a long while by herself, trying to wrap her mind around what happened; and to untangle her own complicated emotions, contemplating the future also.
Just as Éowyn had expected, sleep does not come easily that night, and the following morning she keeps getting distracted by thoughts of how Faramir fares-- how he must be feeling, on the cusp of this ceremony she knows he has no real desire for. As she breaks fast, she privately rues the fact that she has not a finer dress than the simple white frock supplied by the Houses, and makes inquiries from her maid who promises to look into it. A few hours later, a simple but pretty gown of palest powder blue is delivered to her-- gifted, no doubt, by some kind lady of the City. Beggars cannot be choosers, Éowyn decides. The dress is a little too tight about the shoulders, but otherwise serviceable. At least it is something different for the occasion than her convalescent frock.
The timing could not have been better either, as the messenger Faramir has sent arrives soon after. Éowyn dons the starry mantle, her golden hair brushed into a gleam and left unbound to tumble down her back.
Éowyn realizes abruptly that she is somewhat nervous to meet Faramir again after last night, but determinedly tamps down on such unease. She is to support him, not to dwell on anything else. Yet, as she follows the messenger escorting her out of the Houses, she cannot help the anxious churning in the pit of her stomach.