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strength may fail[break]
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0304 words
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Georgette hums a low note in response, something akin to amusement imbued into the sound before she speaks. "Am I?"
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The woman moves to stand as Elisabeth speaks, her hands absently dusting at her knees and backside to loosen debris gathered there; the call of her name, however, draws her attention, and blue-green eyes turn to her companion questioningly and such an odd timbre. Her head canting somewhat to the side, her lips press into a thin line at the admission, brows furrowed minutely.
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Drawing a lungful of air, Georgette shakes her head softly as she replies, "I don't think so, Elisabeth. A bad person would not be worried if they were good, no? We are all little pieces. Black and white and grey." Her hands move absently as she speaks, as if moulding together the complex concept of a person to fit neatly into such a succinct analogy. Gigi glances up through her bangs with a soft half-smile.
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Besides, she mused privately, who was truly good?
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With a little nod of agreement, her smile widens a touch as she supplies in a warm, earnest timbre, "I am glad to have known you too, Elisabeth." Wordlessly, Gigi reaches out and laces her hand with Elisabeth's. Pulling the other woman's hand to her own lips, Georgette presses a kiss to the back of Elisabeth's hand and then rests her cheek over it, a measure of comfort without pretence nor obligation.
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If they were to dance together, then with what time they had Georgette would supply as much warmth, as much solace, as she could to her battered and bruised friend. Her gaze slips back to the tombstone before them, cheek yet resting upon Elisabeth's hand as she exhales quietly.
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"I am glad to know you," Georgette repeats gently.
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but the heart shall ever last
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