Work Text:
Damaris had spent years watching Mathildis. The tilt of her head, the flick of her hands. The way that she came alive in the face of danger. She had changed, after the plague. They all had. It was just that Mathildis had changed in a strange way. Damaris herself, and many others, had become quieter in her grief. Mathildis had become louder and bolder. She made everything look effortless, for all Damaris knew that in actuality, illness had made many things much harder for Mathildis. Somehow, watching Mathildis pray, Damaris knew that what they had would soon end. She could not have said why she felt such certainty. Only that she did.