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Nuada was unsure what to make of the note he found on his dresser. His first reaction was pure anger that someone had gotten around the lock on his door and violated his sanctuary. His golden eyes had immediately darted to the vent near the ceiling that had had more than one conversation through.
The scrap of paper was definitely not from the Wall Mouse.
The problem was that the paper roses left behind made his chest tighten. The note indicated the author knew something of him, but it was a fact that was no secret. He had no idea who would have left such a strange, yet touching gift while breaking into his rooms.
He sat on the edge of his bed and examined the paper flower. Origami and masterfully done.
Nuada had been thinking of moving part of Bashir's garden here to have that small touch of nature near where he slept, and to both honor and remember the Doctor.
He had told no one. But this gift was serendipitous.
He was still uncertain of how he felt, or should feel, even as he wondered if he could nail down the rich velvet and embroidered cloak come bedspread he had claimed.
The scrap of paper was definitely not from the Wall Mouse.
The problem was that the paper roses left behind made his chest tighten. The note indicated the author knew something of him, but it was a fact that was no secret. He had no idea who would have left such a strange, yet touching gift while breaking into his rooms.
He sat on the edge of his bed and examined the paper flower. Origami and masterfully done.
Nuada had been thinking of moving part of Bashir's garden here to have that small touch of nature near where he slept, and to both honor and remember the Doctor.
He had told no one. But this gift was serendipitous.
He was still uncertain of how he felt, or should feel, even as he wondered if he could nail down the rich velvet and embroidered cloak come bedspread he had claimed.
