Mueller frowned at the board. Where had that knight come from?
“Your game is off,” Zechs commented. “A soldier requires discipline and focus, something you’ve always exemplified.” His tone softened. “What’s bothering you?”
“It’s nothing,” Mueller said. Complaining would do nothing and certainly not in regards to Him. It wasn’t his place to do so, and he seemed impervious to such things anyway.
“Your game says otherwise. You should get it off your chest before it weighs you down in a more problematic situation. And I expect more of a challenge on our next round.”
Mueller grimaced and sighed. “It’s Prince Olivert.” Wasn’t it always? To protect the Arnor line was an honour, one he swore to uphold. How did he wind up with the flighty, unpredictable, far too often inappropriate walking chaos that was Prince Olivert?
Zechs couldn’t quite conceal the flick
Safe and SoundCabanela drummed his fingers on his desk and tried to focus on the papers in front of him. Checkboxes and blank lines stared at him waiting to be filled in – dull and a poor distraction from the thoughts that plagued him all day. He plowed through most of the paperwork already despite his growing agitation as the day progressed. Only a few more small things to go that started to feel as though they were taunting him.
It was irritating. He should be reveling in victory after closing a difficult case, not dwelling on a sense that something was wrong, had gone wrong - no was going to go wrong. Yes, going to be – that was it. And it didn’t make a lick of sense.
There was a lot that didn’t make much sense lately, if there was any to be found in the regular nightmares, anxious mornings and the inexplicable pit of dread he sometimes felt at seeing Alma. And among it all he couldn’t shake the feeling that Jowd was somehow at the centre of it. Jowd who, some
Trails in the BitsExasperating, irritating, exhausting, worrying: all words Mueller could apply to his prince.
However, there were the rare and treasured times they could sit peacefully with only the soft strumming of Olivier’s lute to fill the silence.
Unfortunately like all good things they too quickly come to an end. And so it was with this case. “Care to join me in a duet, dearest Mueller?”
Estelle woke up and gave her room a fuzzy look, wondering what time it was. Too early probably, but Joshua could be up…
Her thoughts stumbled over themselves. No… Joshua was gone. This was only a short stopover before they set off again.
She dragged herself up and tried to ignore the feeling that she could almost hear a familiar tune just outside earshot. She dove into her belongings digging for the harmonica. She ran her fingers over it lightly, softly humming brief snatches of the song.
“I will find you, Joshua.”
And she will drag him back by his ear.
Woven Together in DarknessMoonlight trickles through the window. It’s a peaceful night, but none of that peace reaches the man tossing and turning in bed.
Cabanela’s eyes shoot open with a sharp gasp. He lies still, tentative, waiting for the shadows of pain to be real or to fade; he doesn’t know which to expect. He doesn’t know if his breath will shatter fragile bones or calm his pounding heart. He doesn’t know where to attach the heavy feeling and fear of loss.
A decision that seems to skip his brain and goes straight to his hands is made. He’s sitting now, automatically dialing a number, his hand throttling the phone’s receiver until his eyes fall on the clock. It’s far too late. They’re fine, they’re fine. He’s fine. Who is he to go calling over this like a small child?
He sets the phone down carefully. He’s calmer now. Of course he is. What’s a little nightmare to him? He sinks back into his pillows and closes his eyes. He has an
Case ClosedJowd left Kamila with Lynne with many hugs and a promise that he would be back soon. There was another he had to visit.
Now that he stood in front of the door of one specific room he found himself stuck. Wasn’t it strange how he hadn’t hesitated to follow the guard to his death, yet here he couldn’t move? He set his shoulders. There was no escaping what awaited him in that small hospital room.
Cabanela appeared asleep when Jowd entered. A blanket covered most signs of injury, but his brow was furrowed.
Sleep was good, Jowd thought as he took a seat next to Cabanela’s bed. He looked to need it - didn’t he always - and he looked bad in the junkyard office. If he slept through this visit it was all for the better. There was no harm in letting talks wait; it was even sensible. He needed rest.
His hopes for a delay were dashed just as all his plans had been trodden on when Cabanela’s eyes opened and fixed on him. A wide smile lit his face and it was then