She was right about one thing – it was hard watching someone you cared about deal with things beyond your control. Because his chest felt tight, even when only watching her out of the corner of his eye. She was crying. That was usually reason enough to stop in his tracks, and try to comfort her. That was how it went with Daff – he tried his best to be an anchor through her emotions, and stamped down any of his to get her through it. And God forbid he ever needed a minute to decide how he felt about something.
Elias could feel himself turning more towards her already, set to do the same now; he was almost exasperated at himself, at the awful habit this had become. (Was he trying to do what she had done for Greengrass? Trying to fix someone who wouldn’t let themselves be fixed? Daff didn’t seem happy to him, whatever she said about this being where she wanted to be.)
He raked a frustrated hand through his hair, swallowing. “If it mattered to you it’s allowed to matter to me,” he contested sharply: if she had gone to Greengrass to demand answers from him, he wanted to at least know what she had been told; to not be left in the dark. He supposed he ought to trust her in all this since she had told him willingly, but – that was hard too. It was taking some digesting... and although he had wanted to know, he wasn’t sure how much he would be able to forget of it now, either. “Please stop crying, Daff,” he added, tone tired but ever so slightly softer. He might’ve folded his arms around her, but she was holding her bump and hovering a few too many steps away. Maybe this was better, after all: maybe the space between them would introduce some calm.
How he could feign feeling calm when he was anything but, Elias didn’t know – and he hadn’t intended to ask this until it was out of his mouth, and sounding more bitter than he had meant, as well. “Where does he live? Which house?”
Elias could feel himself turning more towards her already, set to do the same now; he was almost exasperated at himself, at the awful habit this had become. (Was he trying to do what she had done for Greengrass? Trying to fix someone who wouldn’t let themselves be fixed? Daff didn’t seem happy to him, whatever she said about this being where she wanted to be.)
He raked a frustrated hand through his hair, swallowing. “If it mattered to you it’s allowed to matter to me,” he contested sharply: if she had gone to Greengrass to demand answers from him, he wanted to at least know what she had been told; to not be left in the dark. He supposed he ought to trust her in all this since she had told him willingly, but – that was hard too. It was taking some digesting... and although he had wanted to know, he wasn’t sure how much he would be able to forget of it now, either. “Please stop crying, Daff,” he added, tone tired but ever so slightly softer. He might’ve folded his arms around her, but she was holding her bump and hovering a few too many steps away. Maybe this was better, after all: maybe the space between them would introduce some calm.
How he could feign feeling calm when he was anything but, Elias didn’t know – and he hadn’t intended to ask this until it was out of his mouth, and sounding more bitter than he had meant, as well. “Where does he live? Which house?”
look ANOTHER beautiful bee!set <3