Saphira is shocked out of her misery when he says, ”Never?! That’s a little dramatic.” Her mouth cracks into a smile then, as he goes on, talking of rainbows and whales and dice. ”Clearly you didn’t stomp any grapes today.” She laughs, harsh and short, like a bark, but the wine is in her, too, and her mean little laugh turns into a rash of hiccuping giggles. It goes on for a time, until her sides cramp and she’s only sucking in air. Eventually, she settles down, and finds her breath. She’s looking up at the stars when she murmurs, ”Thanks.” But they are lights in a dark, dark sea, and even those who are close together are never touching, always an arm’s length from another. ”I’ve been a breaching whale. That should make me the happiest woman alive, by your standards.” But she’s not anymore, and she never will be; all she can do now is turn little blades of grass into little piles of salt.
”Are you happy?” and then, ”Perhaps we should’ve brought more wine.”
Speech, @Caspian
