Perhaps two hours have passed since Éowyn left, when the key clicks in the lock and the door opens. It isn't Éowyn in the doorway, though, but Faramir. He's still dressed in the clothes he rode out in, forest-green and well-worn, his hair still braided back for riding. His swordbelt is buckled to his side, but the sheath is empty, as are his hands. His face is always grave, but now it is positively stony, his lips pressed together, something fell and distant in his eyes.
With a brisk wave of his hand, he wordlessly signals the guard beside him, who steps back into the hallway and closes the door behind him, leaving the two men alone. It's a moment before Faramir speaks, but it's not a silence that invites interruption.
"I will not ask if what she says is true," he says at last, his voice soft and more sad than angry. No need for preamble: from what Éowyn told him, he's sure Jack knows exactly what he means. "Only this - and answer me truly, for I am sick to the bone of falsity. Did you come with this in mind?"
switching accounts seemed appropriate here
Date: 2017-06-01 03:53 pm (UTC)With a brisk wave of his hand, he wordlessly signals the guard beside him, who steps back into the hallway and closes the door behind him, leaving the two men alone. It's a moment before Faramir speaks, but it's not a silence that invites interruption.
"I will not ask if what she says is true," he says at last, his voice soft and more sad than angry. No need for preamble: from what Éowyn told him, he's sure Jack knows exactly what he means. "Only this - and answer me truly, for I am sick to the bone of falsity. Did you come with this in mind?"