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The Dancing Copper



Hank kept yelling and throwing his hand around. Gesturing at whatever direction he felt would underline his argument. No matter how loud he shouted or how many directions he pointed, his words failed to catch the woman who sat in a chair by the table, her delicate fingers attempting to swirl a copper coin upon it’s wooden surface. She smiled as she succeeded to make the metal dance without a halt.

The copper’s dance was forced to meet it’s end as Hank slammed his palm against the table, making the coin jump and fall flat on it’s face, “Are you even listening, Fiona?!” Fyria drew in a breath, before turning her head to smile softly at her husband, “No, I am not. If you’d stop yelling, I might.” He breathed heavily in his anxious state, his wild eyes suggesting it was not an easy task for him to constrain his emotions. Yet he pulled a chair under his frame, staring at the woman in dark silence.

Fyria returned his gaze, studying his features with empathy. Slowly she lifted a hand to gently arrange the sweaty dark locks that had fallen over his eyes, tenderly escorting them back to the sides of his face, “I know you are upset, my love. Your distress saddens me, yet it had to be done.” She wrinkled her brow, her green eyes filled with apology.

He lifted his hand to collect her fingers into it, “My cousins are furious...And not only them...Every single Haymoor holds a grudge against you.” She smiled sadly, raising her brow cautiously, “Except one?” He considered her in heavy silence, sighing eventually, “Bring the woman here. I will decide after I have met her.” She nodded silently, her fingers curling around his. A slow smile grew on her lips as she pulled his hand gently, inviting him to a dance.