[ It feels improper to address him as such, but Wendy — as she is — has never been anything if not pliant. She glances over, almost skittish, as he catches up to her, though her gaze changes into something more like fascination, lingering a beat longer before she returns her attention to the winding street in front of her. ]
The Knight and the Hours, [ she repeats, the way she mulls over the words making it clear that they're unfamiliar to her. (It sounds melancholy to her — most things to do with the Hours do, to her — but she keeps that particular thought to herself.) Still— ] I don't believe I know it.
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[ It feels improper to address him as such, but Wendy — as she is — has never been anything if not pliant. She glances over, almost skittish, as he catches up to her, though her gaze changes into something more like fascination, lingering a beat longer before she returns her attention to the winding street in front of her. ]
The Knight and the Hours, [ she repeats, the way she mulls over the words making it clear that they're unfamiliar to her. (It sounds melancholy to her — most things to do with the Hours do, to her — but she keeps that particular thought to herself.) Still— ] I don't believe I know it.