Moorford continued a shell of itself in the weeks following the arrival of the cure from Tuneric. Tatianna felt at a loss, wandering the empty halls of the palace as she continued to struggle with the reality of Langston's betrayal, the near-death of King Cailen and the dangers to her sister. She felt more helpless than ever, unable to do anything for Nataliah and reluctant to impose upon Lochlan and Jacquelyn despite her growing affection for their son. Her nephew was an adorable baby, thriving finely thanks to his parents' swift precautions. She, however, was surprised that she was not a ghost yet, hardly tangible or solid but a spectre haunting the Estates.

Realizing how melodramatic she sounded in her own head, she laughed and compelled herself to go outside, taking in the autumn sun and the gardens that never failed to lift her spirits. Perhaps a bouquet for Jacquelyn or her mother was in order, something to brighten the day and sweeten the air. Tatianna reminded herself to be patient; Balfour had narrowly escaped a disastrous pandemic. Already, the kingdom was recovering, and surely there had to be something that she could do. She would have to approach Lochlan and ask where she could be the most help for their people.

In the meantime, Tatianna felt a twinge or two of loneliness. Her family were the dearest of people to her, yet she missed the friends she had made prior to her departure for Tuneric. Plucking one of the vine roses, she smiled wistfully down at it as she made her way to sit on one of the benches decorating the gardens. There, she gingerly picked one velvety petal at a time, letting them drift on the light breeze like a wish. Perhaps she would be lucky, and the wind would bring one of her wishes to life...

@Henry Baptiste