Re: Bellamy arrives late
Portia watched as Courtenay dealt with his dog, and then she gave one small, respectful nod as he asked her not to leave, then another as he asked her to give him a moment. Her silence was thoughtful as she processed his words.
Your compassion has value. If people only cared about those things that personally mattered to them, then the world would be a much darker place.
Her compassion? Was she compassionate, or just curious? His words felt heavy to Portia. She didn't particularly consider herself to be worldly or well-informed or political, and yet, he seemed to be giving her credit as a woman of substance. She wasn't sure she deserved that. Before coming to Glynn, she'd hardly thought about Aurelle or it's people very much at all, outside of what she read in the paper.
But as she watched Major Auster close his eyes and so somberly place those wreaths, she realized that at least some of the war must have been fought, well, here. It seemed like such an obvious conclusion to draw, but Portia hadn't really understood war in real terms before. Some of the graves beyond this gate -- or... the stacks of stones -- could be people who had died in the war. Some of them had died fighting to prevent the Unification they were meant to be celebrating that day.
It didn't feel like a celebration when he hung to wreaths in silence. Portia watched respectfully, and when Courtenay turned back to face her with that serious expression on his handsome features, she saw the sadness in his eyes. Portia was at a loss for words, and on top that that, she felt hopelessly inadequate under weight of his melancholic gaze. She didn't know what to say or do, nor did she fully understand his grief, and her resulting uncertainty made her astral projection turn slightly more translucent.
As she silence stretched nearly to its breaking point, the Marshal arrived, unmistakable though she hardly knew him, and slightly winded as he approached. Portia wasn't particularly enthused at being witnessed here by someone who had social contact with Blair, if only for simplicity's sake, but at least his arrival alleviated some of the uncertainty Portia was feeling about how to proceed. Was it acceptable to flicker away without a word now and hope the marshal hadn't seen her? No, it wasn't, because surely he had, and even so, Courtenay had asked her to stay.
With a new and esteemed arrival, she thought it was acceptable to lean on her manners, so she nodded in the direction of his approach and murmured quietly, "Good evening, Marshal Bellamy."