[ Her expression, when those hands reach for hers, is one of momentary surprise, but Navia is nothing if not affectionate, and quick to accept the kindness for what it is, her hands turning so that she may hold Frieda's in return. And where for a moment she assumes that what she'll be doing is thanking the other, in the end she sits for a moment with wide eyes.
The number of worlds out there must surely be equal to the number of stars one sees in the sky, she thinks. For someone's story to be similar in so many ways...
She takes a deep breath, steadies herself against the emotions that want to carry her away from the moment. Her free hand lifts, dashes at tears that threaten to fall.
no subject
The number of worlds out there must surely be equal to the number of stars one sees in the sky, she thinks. For someone's story to be similar in so many ways...
She takes a deep breath, steadies herself against the emotions that want to carry her away from the moment. Her free hand lifts, dashes at tears that threaten to fall.
She asks: ]
Will you tell me your nation's story, Frieda?