There was no more love between them. The trust had been broken. They met to keep tabs on each other. They met to ensure that the other was not living outside the bounds of society in some abhorrent way. They met to spy on each other.
That was the time their friendship died, the moment A Finger Pointing received that letter, the one that she tore up and burned to ash, cried over and then, determined, use the paint of which to spell out renewed love for those who remained in her life.
((Contacting Hammered Silver))
+Once she had had her water, and then a simple drink mixed by Beholden, and spent an hour resting, A Finger Pointing stood and walked to the back patio, out where the +((Contacting Hammered Silver))
((fallout, or move to next chapter in conversation))