It was the strange scene of a confessional: although he was sitting opposite a stranger she was witness to more emotion dredged up from him than most people – even friends, even family – in his life ever saw. She was trying to look away, to afford him a little grace, Elias could sense that, but it didn’t stop the emotion welling up.
He bit his lip before he managed to drag his eyes over to the other parcel, and with unsteady hands he traced the flowers she’d made on it, her artistry transferred to a different medium. Like the paint box he’d given her, a gift perhaps turned sour by the accompanying circumstance, his reading her letter...
Elias gave a hefty sigh, choked up and regretful and having to turn his head away from Miss Sprout and the box and the table for a minute to try and compose himself.
“Sorry. Thank you,” he managed, his stomach roiling from the mixed emotions of it. “Thank you for holding it on to it for her. Are you – still in touch with her?” Irene was gone, and he didn’t know if they would be able to write to each other after all that had happened. But maybe she would keep up some of her other connections to Britain when she left it.
He bit his lip before he managed to drag his eyes over to the other parcel, and with unsteady hands he traced the flowers she’d made on it, her artistry transferred to a different medium. Like the paint box he’d given her, a gift perhaps turned sour by the accompanying circumstance, his reading her letter...
Elias gave a hefty sigh, choked up and regretful and having to turn his head away from Miss Sprout and the box and the table for a minute to try and compose himself.
“Sorry. Thank you,” he managed, his stomach roiling from the mixed emotions of it. “Thank you for holding it on to it for her. Are you – still in touch with her?” Irene was gone, and he didn’t know if they would be able to write to each other after all that had happened. But maybe she would keep up some of her other connections to Britain when she left it.
look ANOTHER beautiful bee!set <3