Lenally's dreams were filled with unusual elements that made her blood rush to her most intimate places and her body ache. She imagined Lorenso embracing her, kissing her deeply as his hands wandered. She even let out a soft cry in her sleep. No one had ever, ever, gotten away with such intimacies with her. She hadn't tried to slug him....why? She felt herself wanting him beside her, holding her.<br/><br/>Then she also dreamed of Gerrard. She didn't like him too terribly much, but she felt such sadness that he lost his father at such a crucial time. Even as her own father had struck her so publicly, he was still her father and Lenally knew that he was capable of tenderness. When she "played the part" of a lady, he was an affectionate father, when she was obstinate, he disciplined her harshly. But still, she'd be crushed as well to hear in the midst of a feast that he were dead, and did feel the need to attempt to be somewhat kind to Gerrard.<br/><br/>She laid there beneath the thick, soft and warm blankets on her other side, the bruising of her father's slap present on her cheek. The smell of salty tears that had been shed in private, Lenally would never cry in public, and would only cry to a person if it was her brother.