In Which Leara Says the Right Thing

January 27, 1180

As usual, shy Neva had opted for the solitude of her xylophone over playing dolls with her less inhibited cousin, but Farilon was more than happy to indulge Yvanette in her stead. Leara wasn't quite sure what to make of that. It was true that most of her memories of Farilon involved a friendly little child ready to jump into any game anyone might have proposed... but in those memories, Leara herself was just an older child. She was an adult now, Farilon's brother's wife, mother of three-going-on-four. Farilon was--would have been?--nearing fifteen now. The prospect of having to entertain a year-old niece would have sent most fifteen-year-old boys running back to their tutors, begging for more Latin exercises.

Not that Farilon was most fifteen-year-old boys. "He's certainly good with the kids."

Rona lifted one ankle and crossed it over the other. She'd been looking on with some concern, probably fearing the sharp edges of her brother's borrowed body, but without any realized issue, she shrugged in defeat. "He is a kid."

"Yes, well..." Leara trailed off, not sure if there was a right thing to say to that and failing to find it if there was. Perhaps it would be best to take a cue from Jadin and avoid discussing Farilon with his family. "Yvanette seems to be having fun."

"She does." And for all Rona was concerned, it seemed that was the end of it.

"Good of your husband to take mine today." Rona raised an eyebrow. It was a weak shift in conversation and Leara knew it, but it was the first thing that had come to mind and therefore it was less awkward than the silence. Perhaps there was some merit in what Camaline had said about her fear of silence. "Lorn needs to get out more."

"So does Ashe. That's why I suggested it." She picked at the hem of her sleeve and sighed. In the past couple years, Rona had grown up quite a bit, but she wasn't beyond the occasional relapse into adolescence. She was still the same girl who had sulked in that same chair back in the days leading up to the tournament, and that hadn't escaped Leara's notice. Not that it made up for all the things that did. "I take it Lorn's stressed over what to do about Deian?"

Leara nodded. "He knows that there hasn't been any cause for alarm, but..."

"But he's still concerned," Rona finished for her. "And not without good reason."

I'll say. Not when the creature had slaughtered all those innocents. Not when he had killed Lorn and Rona's own father. Not when he had threatened Rona's husband, for all Ashe had been sparing with the details when he'd finally felt safe in telling at all. But Rona didn't say any more. She no doubt didn't want to talk about Deian either.

"So... what about your man? Why is he due for a good day's hunt?"

"Oh, God. Why isn't he?" And there went yet another topic of conversation. Leara's sister-in-law would never call on her again. "He's always so tense, you know? Like he thinks everything he touches is going to fall apart."

Interesting way of putting it. The fact in itself wasn't so. "A lot of people are tense."

"Not like Ashe is." At the sound of her father's name, the tone no doubt like he'd done something bad, Yvanette glanced back at her mother, eyes wide and inquiring. Rona grimaced and waved her daughter's attention back to Farilon before elaborating. "He... I don't know how to explain it. Like he thinks he's dreaming and he's afraid of waking up, maybe."

Within her, the baby stirred. It was good to know the feeling was mutual. "At least that means it's a good dream?"

"It would be if he let it. That's what's bothering me." Rona peaked back at Yvanette, thoroughly reengaged in her uncle's wordless storyline. According to Celina, the little girl looked just like Rona at that age, but Leara struggled to believe it. It was difficult to imagine a Rona without woes. "I've tried getting him to talk about it, but never to any effect. I think it has something to do with his past, which is another thing he refuses to talk about. And I want him to get past it, because he's so sweet and he loves me so much and I just want us to be happy, but..."

"But you don't know how to help him."

And it seemed, for once, she'd said the right thing. "But I don't know how to help him."

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