1 Work by butchrust
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Summary
In a stolen moment, Lyonore and Dunk leant against each other like cupped hands catching the wind that blew in off Blackwater Bay. They sat like a young lady and her closest handmaiden might — heads bent together to keep gossip sacred to their ears and lips alone — but they were both too old for that girlish game, even with Dunk a scant four-and-twenty-odd years.
Ships on the far horizon seemed to float above the sea. Dunk vaguely pointed out at them, and at the clusters of boats and buildings across water and land, and Lyonore responded with tales half-real and half-fantasy. They held each other up, pressed together from shoulder all the way down to knee.
Series
- Part 3 of in no single moment at all