Britannia, NY

Cecilia has felt so much better since her trip to visit Larry in New York. It had been wonderful - though she still wasn't sure she was ready to admit to being in love. Once home, she found that her days were astonishingly upbeat, even if her dreams had only intensified.

She still has alarmingly vivid, painful nightmares of the end, several times a week, but now she sees other things as well. Sons, her brother, memories of things that would have seemed commonplace, if they hadn't been so loaded for Morgause. Morgause, to whom most everything seemed like a chess piece to be played, something to trade for power or attention. Cecilia wasn't sure what to make of such dreams; they should have disturbed, her, probably, but more and more she found that they seemed normal, natural. That such thinking made a kind of sense.

It made her want to draw those people to her, somehow, in this life. She didn't seem to have any way of doing this; she didn't seem to have any sort of magic, or power that she could tell. So she settled for the next best thing. Against her better judgement, this Sunday morning, she's set herself up at The Round Table - coffee, coffee cake, and a crossword. She's doing her best to present an air of friendly availability.