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The carriage ride to Gloucester is quiet, but not uneventful. Lysithea shifts on her seat across from Lorenz, chastising him with her eyes. As if he might have the gall to do something untoward: a hand sliding across her knee, brushing her thigh. Does she genuinely think he lacks such restraint?
The gap between them is larger than the carriage itself, more massive than all of Fódlan. Lysithea had told him that her life was destined to end short — but why? How? They could tackle the issue if Lorenz can start to understand her predicament. Together. She needn't fight her battles all alone, basking in stoic silence.
Lysithea peels back the window curtain, a small smile twisting her lips. Just a moment, and it's gone. She sits back in her seat, smoothing out her dress. As expected, the sweeping plains of Gloucester have endeared her. Farmland as far as the eye can see: the earth a dazzling green and speckled with lumbering livestock. And yet the distance between them feels no lesser when she frowns, turning from Lorenz, snapping at a proffered tray of treats without even looking at him. More delicacies from Gloucester: hazelnut truffles and honey lavender scones.
"Why must you insist on dragging me across Leicester?" And the words unspoken, radiating from her rose pink eyes: Why go to such effort when I don't have much time left?
It is because you have so little time remaining, Lorenz might say. But instead, he clasps her hand, bringing it to his chest so that she can feel the thunder of his heart.
"Never forego the joys of life," Lorenz says. "And do you know what would please me right now?"
Lysithea shakes her head, eyes wide, and when Lorenz presses his lips to hers, she tastes oh-so sweet.