A touch of disappointment set upon her features in a way that skirted around her true age. Straightening her shoulders Mag found herself at a crossroads. She gathered herself mentally, forced herself to become once more in control of this steadily careening cart that was her present life and being the bold woman that she was she lifted an arm slowly.
Mag's hand reached outward, the tips of her fingers brushing the outline of Erik's lapel. Her eyes never left his face as her question fluttered from her lips as a butterfly would a flower, "Do you not know?"
It was a fair question, she though.
She also knew that men like Erik could be unkind when backed into a corner but she'd dealt with that type before. Deep inside Mag felt her stomach churning. She was afraid - what did this mean? Was she so weak now in this world that she crumbled every time he passed by like a lost spirit without the promise of the afterlife? Whatever had befallen him before she knew. It was in his music, the way he wove the notes together painted a clear picture and now...
...now here she was. Here they were, dancing around something they both noticed and never confirmed.
If he pushed her away she would go without a word. She expected him to do just that considering the weight that was pressing down upon their shoulders. Solidarity had never been a constant in her life.