[ It’s a familiar litany: She is the source of all disagreements, he has done nothing that could offend or show disregard despite evidence brought forth, he is unaware of the meaning of his own power over her, and when finally it has all become unbearable and she speaks it; aggressive unrelenting resistance and no sign at all that she is being heard. The recitation slowly seeps into Alexandrie, gives her an air of soft and well-worn melancholy.

At the end she nods. When she speaks it is still clear and calm, but with a certain distance. Even though she has not stopped looking at Wysteria, there is the sense that inside her there is a part that has looked away. ]

I envy you your strength and determination in the matter. I cannot seem to help myself.

[ She flies into furies and screams them like a hawk, she weeps in agonies of passionate frustration, she flees and goes to ground... and then as regular as the tide, she turns. She yearns to him. She pleads to be allowed to salve the harm she’s caused. She goes to his bed and clings to him like she drowns, and she loves him. She loves him.

Her eyes shine, and her smile is odd. Fragile, like the near-translucent delicacy of the cups they hold. A little sadness, a little wonder. Weariness. Resignation. ]

You have my word I shall not involve myself save to tell him that while you have not indeed cut off the opportunity for future acquaintance, you shall not be engaging with him until he has come to an understanding of the injuries he has done you and made demonstration of such—if I have heard you aright.