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“You are afraid…”
Three little words that spike Liandrin with the truth even as she refuses to turn from where she watches the water. They have been on the boat for weeks already and Liandrin is more than ready to leave.
“You are…”
Liandrin scoffs softly.
“My discomfort should please you. Aren’t you happy now?”
“No.”
Suroth admits and it’s soft-spoken, almost gentle.
“No. I don’t enjoy you broken.”
Later they are forced inside by bad weather and Liandrin reluctantly takes her seat by Suroth’s side, her trembling eased only by surprising freedom, the collar falls from her and Suroth strokes bared skin, soothing the rawness there.
“You are not the only one who hates boats…”