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what will be, will be
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The gruff male, never one to be overly cheerful in her short encounters with him, seemed even more forlorn than normal. His words, his posture, his facial expression, everything reeked of weariness, of dissatisfaction. Cercelee didn’t know the specifics, but she didn’t have to in order to understand the sentiment. Leading a pack wore one down, all she had to do was dig out the memory of Laruku to know that to be true. Did Jefferson ever compare himself to the male? Cercelee was determined not to, and so the smile and strength she donned everyday was pulled from somewhere, somehow, though Cercelee couldn’t quite explain it.
Sorrowfully she shook her head, wishing she had brighter news to tell him but unwilling to lie to the male. “Not much.” Truthfully she didn’t know the circumstances of Phoenix Valley and so who was worse off than who it was hard to say, but awful and chaotic were words that she thought could adequately describe Dahlia de Mai as well. “Is there anything I can help you with?” Had he come for some purpose or had he just come? Either way Cercelee was happy to do what she could, even if it only meant lending an ear.
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