Cassandra didn't see the signs of his discomfort, or at least she didn't process them. She stood, looking now at the walls as she considered what colour she would make them. Charles said it could be any colour she liked and she felt partial tonight to gold.
"There are many kinds of war that men make," Cassandra said even as she'd consciously moved on already from her previous words. Yes, gold, like the sunsetting above Troy. "Made by men and always children must be the ones to weep. Ravens and writing desks and innocence: All these things can burn. Battlefields of bedrooms." Cassandra continued speaking as she trailed her hands across the wall, imagining the stone walls beneath her fingers. "All these things she sees without looking."