perhaps it was impossible for such a thing to be true, that anyone could arrive here with all of their debts paid, their dues in order and their regrets wiped clean from the slate. of course, they were plucked from their respective worlds akin to fruit from the garden, selected almost seemingly at random… tying those loose ends would prove difficult, at least, from such a way away. wherever they were, however far, t’was not a likely chance that sewing up these torn threads would be any easy feat. still, loki offered her a smile, as if all was well. as if she spoke only the truth within this ocean of falsity.
“ you are only too right. “ he toasts to her health, but does not drink. “ and i suppose it is the same for you — nothing to regret, wherever you came from? such a blissful thing, that feeling of freedom. freedom from your errors, from your half-finished goals. “ he truly doubted she was the sole survivor in that sense, that she somehow escaped the concept of leaving things half-fulfilled. it seemed almost alien, almost utterly impossible. but then, was this not a realm of such? he was curious, quite seriously so, for her manner was intriguing enough. that cold, emotionless expression, down to the very lack of personal reveal she allowed. a marble statue, quite a conversation partner really.
yes, even despite her very few words either way.
The widow raises her glass in the toast, her long legs folding one over the other as he speaks. She hovers the glass over her lips, languidly swirling the glass of sparkling wine in her grasp. She mirror’s the man’s body language when he does not take a sip from his glass. She is still observant nonetheless, but the interaction is not awkward by any means. Naturally, the French woman has a taste for good wine, but there was something nostalgic about this one, the Petras sparkling wine sitting to the side of their table. She kept a chilled bottle of it at home, it came as much of a surprise to find it here. The thought, enough to bring a subtle light into her eyes and the trace of a faint smile, but no more than this. The woman hears his question, but he was still a foreigner. Even here, Amélie still preferred to keep her profile low. « I think many would prefer to have some kind of closure, tying the knot or burning the frayed ends so they do not splinter any further. You seem to speak of such freedoms so brightly. »
Amélie moves the wine to her lips now, words slipping past the blue-tones of her lips, eyes meeting his again. « Surely you must know everyone is not given that chance, non? I would even go as far to say that some have had that freedom robbed from them. »