Geneva did not spend very long rustling about in the room where she kept her things. Most of the time, she slept with Jefferson in their shared bedroom. However, she still retained ownership of the room she had occupied upon first taking up residence in the ranch. When she had first lived here, it had been before their mate ship. Now it just seemed more natural to be at Jefferson’s side; there was some solace in it, and it felt like a sanctuary to her.
The thin, lithe woman crept back into the common area, not paying particular attention on her way. Her mind was occupied with nonsensical musings that shifted until her thoughts launched themselves into other tangents, what ifs colliding with the realities of her life. Jordan and Shae often crossed her mind, but she did not speak of them. She let the dead lie still in their graves, but their memories continued to live on in the quiet quarters of heart.
The Savant was surprised and pleased to see Pripyat sitting in the middle of the floor. She had not seen him as much as she used to, because he had finally grown to the point where he was making discoveries for himself. This was part of the process of him growing up, and she was able to accept it with more grace than she had anticipated. Her blue eyed boy always returned home to her eventually, and that was all that she could ask of him.
”It is good to see you, love,” she said, her voice warm as she continued to approach him. At a closer glance, she noticed that he was clutching her journal tightly. His fingers were tense where they gripped the small book. Geneva searched his expression and looked concerned. He had never before read her journal, the haven for her private thoughts, but she had never expressly told him not to. She was more concerned now with why that look was on his face. ”Pripyat, what’s wrong?”
WC 336