Sins we once held so dear
#7
The girl - woman now, wasn't she? - was in denial and the man could hardly deny her the right to do so. He did not know how Ayita was but he could tell that Amaranth was not happy with her condition. He would have been equally worried for her if he wasn't in his serenely accepting state of mind. He was entirely positive that Ayita was either going to get better and continue being the matriarchal rock of her family or she was going to stop suffering. It was simple, morbid, but Strel was calm about it. It was a shame that the temperamental first daughter was suffering so, but it was the way it had to be.

"I'm sorry, sweet," he said, genuinely apologetic for making her do this unsavory task. His eyes were sad as she said he would still be here. Oh, he knew otherwise. He simply smiled delicately at her, hoping to be somewhat reassuring. "Of course, dear. Of course, but I like to be prepared for accidents and the like." It was a clear lie and he hoped that Amaranth would not think too hard about it.

"Will you write down that I ask that my room be untouched? And whatever items in said room will be the property of my blood relatives. The studio is free for anyone to claim, of course, since it's such a nicely convenient room. Maybe the new Constable will take it over, I don't know. Would you like the dining room, Amaranth?" He asked softly, looking at the woman with weakened eyes.


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