She has lost track of the days, the weeks, and perhaps even the months gone by in their travels.
It is only recently however, that through their trials,
she begins to look upon Clare like she looks upon the twin planets above and the freckled stars and swirling galaxies clustered around them,
on a lonely night in a wide field where the lands of Cyrodiil around her lay sprawled and barren for her restless feet; with virtuous awe and a bottomless sense of frightening curiosity.
On cold nights, the simplest of touches and off-handed brushing can send warmth creeping along the rise and slopes of her ribs, melting away goosebumps and all at once,
causing a shiver to ripple along her spine.
With more existential wonder than she can invest to the seemingly endless lands and the eternal void above, Jean ponders when precisely these feelings arose.
Try as she might to avoid the dangerous line of thought, it persists and distracts.
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