A sharp inhale. Then—
"What did you do?"
"We talked."
He looked away for the first time, eyes fixed on something unseen.
"She described what she considered love."
"Ah. I see."
Isolde exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her eyes fixed on him like he might vanish if she blinked.
"When do you plan on going?"
"Now"
He answered without pause.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"...Okay then"
She stood, every motion deliberate, and walked to an ornate shelf carved from dark walnut. From it, she retrieved a jet-black leather-bound book, its edges worn from use and weight.
"Shall we?"
They didn't leave immediately. Isolde had to change into an appropriate outdoors gown. One of those stiff, breathless creations nobles were expected to suffer through.
Lugh, by contrast, had nothing to change into. No tailored coats, no ceremonial boots. Just threadbare indoor clothes of decent quality hanging on his frame.
