There's not a thought to it for Jo. She needs water. Actually, she needs coffee, but that's not going to happen and she's long past those first few days, maybe a week all told, of caffeine withdrawal for getting back used to having it on hand all the time in Medietas. She's grateful enough they have clean water to drink.
Even if it does get boring. Even if she would give anything for a sip of coffee, juice, any kind of alcohol.
Jo does her business, washes her hands, splashes water on her face, staring for a long moment in the mirror. Same face she's had worlds over in the mirror, getting older, and no close to home, to free, to understanding why. It doesn't feel like she slept, but it's more than she was getting at the beginning. Something about Thorfinn being here, even silent, even constantly in the state of needing words, words, words. Pointed out. Explained. It soothes as much as it exacts. It's getting easier, but it's still uphill.
She cards her fingers through her hair and comes back, padding on bare feet and tilting her head when she stops a few feet off. Asking the question she's asked a million times by now, making him name and repeat things she's holding or pointing to. It's wearing into her tongue even when she can guess, even if she wonders whether they have any way to cover it quite yet, or will for a while. "What is it?"
no subject
There's not a thought to it for Jo. She needs water. Actually, she needs coffee, but that's not going to happen and she's long past those first few days, maybe a week all told, of caffeine withdrawal for getting back used to having it on hand all the time in Medietas. She's grateful enough they have clean water to drink.
Even if it does get boring. Even if she would give anything for a sip of coffee, juice, any kind of alcohol.
Jo does her business, washes her hands, splashes water on her face, staring for a long moment in the mirror. Same face she's had worlds over in the mirror, getting older, and no close to home, to free, to understanding why. It doesn't feel like she slept, but it's more than she was getting at the beginning. Something about Thorfinn being here, even silent, even constantly in the state of needing words, words, words. Pointed out. Explained. It soothes as much as it exacts. It's getting easier, but it's still uphill.
She cards her fingers through her hair and comes back, padding on bare feet and tilting her head when she stops a few feet off. Asking the question she's asked a million times by now, making him name and repeat things she's holding or pointing to. It's wearing into her tongue even when she can guess, even if she wonders whether they have any way to cover it quite yet, or will for a while. "What is it?"