☼ ISHAK ☼اسحاق
"oh, what would your mother say if she could see what we're doing now? / oh, what would your mother say if she could hear what we talk about?"
"oh, what would your mother say if she could see what we're doing now? / oh, what would your mother say if she could hear what we talk about?"
You watch Ruth go.
She smiles, all pretense before she does. You certainly don’t begrudge it, though you know the partygoers would.
You watch Ruth go, and for a brief moment you’re alone with her parting remarks.
You run your tongue over your teeth, catching on grape seeds. It seems you’ve reached the moment you’ve both been waiting for, and the question is; who is the viper waiting to strike? The illness wracking Adonai has someone waiting on the other side, and they won’t be happy with Ruth interfering.
You feel a bit broken and worn in the repetition, for how long it’s been that you’ve been concerned. Were he any other you’d wish for a swift nosedive in condition, that he might pass before she could get the chance to involve herself. Yet, you know full well that she wouldn’t care if he wasn’t her brother, that it wouldn’t appear as a slight.
Even the servants gossip, now, about why she hasn’t been the one diagnosing at his bedside.
You try to turn your thoughts for a moment, wondering if Ruth ever found her missing bauble. It doesn’t stick.
The artists return, chittering away again, but you are noticing the way the night chill is falling. So you make your excuses and you drift off into the party again, looking for Ruth.
Smashed grapes and petals stick to your hooves as you go, party detritus almost impossible to avoid. You shiver and you hurry on inside.
(If someone asked, you wouldn’t call it an ill wind. If someone asked, you wouldn’t tell them how the thought tumbles around in your head.)
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