It was that time; the time of day, of week that<em>he</em>would have been here, that he would have come to see her and spend their time in the haven that was her room.<br/><br/>The redhead glanced around her at the large, airy bedroom that she had earned over the years, largely because of William; that she had decorated and made into a place where her world was her own. This was the sanctuary she invited each of her clients into; with the cream and gold and violet, with the elegant touches, her books, the flowers scattered around. She wandered through her room, hands trailing over the furniture as if feeling it would ground her, call her back to herself. But she didn't want to be there, in the present. She wanted to deny the truth that she knew, that William was truly gone, dead and taken from her. Fiona's throat worked as she stopped in front of her sewing wardrobe, picking up a stray length of sage ribbon that had tumbled out and tucking it back into place before closing the doors.<br/><br/>He had loved her in that color.<br/><br/>Frustrated with herself for being so melancholic and unlike herself she stood and muttered, pulling her plum silk robe tighter around her form. She was foolish, she knew that, to even dress in one of her exotic outfits beneath her robe on a rainy day, dressed like a harem girl to dance and spin away the thoughts of Ivore and the stark truth. "He's gone.." she told herself, sinking to perch on her bed with a sigh and no desire to do anything.<br/><br/>She knew she should be downstairs, available should a client come, she should be working on a dress or her novel, but when the times that were William's, that had been his, rolled around it was like the world turned into some waking nightmare for her.