With one leg hung over the arm rest of the chair, and his back nestled in the opposite corner--between the back rest and the arm rest,--Caanan wrote down his thoughts with caution. It was, perhaps, the only thing that really kept him sane. A sort of reflection of his past life when writing down his thoughts and other things which had happened which he deemed significant was such a common act. And quite relaxing.
The door to the room burst open and Dawn entered, looking displeased and distraught. Caanan leapt out of his chair in surprise and, with his hand, held the small booklet at his side--almost concealing it perfectly from view--replaced the pillows back on the chair.
"Sorry, I didn't know you were...� Caanan said slowly. He didn't think anyone used this room--there were so many!--so he had thought it would be peaceful here and he could write undisturbed.
"Huh? Oh, hi uncle Caanan..." She trailed off and, instead of throwing herself down onto the couch, she remained standing.
"I didn't know anyone came here--I'll get out of your hair." He said quickly and left the room. He had been so quick to dismiss any signs of starting a conversation with his niece. He had just wanted to get out of there. Something was plaguing his thoughts.
Finally, Dawn let herself fall onto the couch and laid there, staring at the stone ceiling for a long while. She wanted to talk about it and yet... Would that be some horrible sign of weakness? The Queen worrying about things that may be trivial. No! They weren't trivial! They were every bit as sensible and real any issue she had to address was!
