Isabella Foster
I like a look of agony
because I know it's true
I
catch something in his eye. What was it? Curiosity? Some other question lingering there. I stiffen my lips against it, whatever it is. It doesn't say much. My mother always says I am far more apt to frown than to smile. So different than Agatha or Imogen, who are much more prone to smiling, smiling those wide, beautiful Foster smiles. I look down at my map, following his eyes with my own, over every street and every curve. “You think?” I question him, though I do not expect a response, I do not even know if I want a response from him. The nobles control so much, but there must be places out there that rail against it. It is an interesting thought. Maybe I will bring the attention of these alleyways to my granddad. He will not tell me out right, but Fosters are good at more than just reading words off of parchment. We are much too good at reading words written across faces. We have to be.
I fold the parchment away and watch Caspian for a moment. He seems…at ease here, like he blends in. I wonder if I could possibly manage the same. My ears move forward as he states his exit. “I think that sounds reasonable.” I manage to say around an empty smile. “You as well Caspian. I will see you tomorrow.” I dismiss him and turn around heading out the way I had come in. Even the way we leave is so vastly different. Different worlds Lawrence once said as we volunteered at some shelter for those who could not feed themselves. Different worlds, I think as we walk our separate ways, but that did not mean we could not bring them together in some thing mutually beneficial.
picture colored by Elidhu
@Caspian
