08-17-2023, 06:34 PM
Sofia watched on. That Iásōn submitted to her bidding won him an ally, and her gaze turned on Pavel in a stubborn lock of wills. She smiled at him from behind the healer’s shoulder. “It’d be rude to refuse, brother. And it’s very late. I’m sure Iásōn wishes to go home.” She approached to press her hand sweetly into the crook of his elbow, urging those folded arms to relax. Pavel frowned down at her. Despite the pleasant interaction, quite a different conversation was going on behind the masks. But eventually he turned his sombre gaze to meet the smaller man’s. Or what could could be assumed behind the head-covering anyway.
“My thanks,” he said stiffly. After a moment he slipped the gloves from his raw hands.
He didn’t reach for Iásōn’s open palms. But he did nod his consent.
“My thanks,” he said stiffly. After a moment he slipped the gloves from his raw hands.
He didn’t reach for Iásōn’s open palms. But he did nod his consent.
![[Image: vasiliev--scaled.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/vasiliev--scaled.jpg)