What with - well, everything - Ari hadn’t been spending as much time at the family’s house as he had used to. They had Elliott to keep them busy at home, after all (nearly nine months old!) and Dionisia had gone back to work in November and usually when there was a moment’s opportunity in the evenings there was somewhere else Ari would first choose to go.
But it had been nice to have a dinner here again, to see at least some of the siblings, and he had loitered here after, full and tired and a little bit lazy. He’d go home soon, after he talked to his father for a little while longer - only Brannon had left the room a while ago and the next person to appear, with a crack that startled him up from his chair, was - Zelda.
Zelda who had been absent from dinner and clearly busy, if the ink on her hands and the slightly manic look she wore were anything by which to measure. He’d offered her a perfunctory smile in greeting, instinctively, but at the same time his gaze followed the letter’s descent and by the time he glanced up again, he was sure that she looked stressed. Unhappy. Or... preoccupied, at least.
“You don’t have to,” Ari said, stooping to pick up the letter from the floor and - obviously resisting any and all temptation to look at it, to understand what kind of bad news his sister had clearly gotten - without looking at it (as if to pretend it hadn’t existed at all), offered it back to her. Still, though he didn’t want to pry, it felt callous not to ask. “But are you alright?”
But it had been nice to have a dinner here again, to see at least some of the siblings, and he had loitered here after, full and tired and a little bit lazy. He’d go home soon, after he talked to his father for a little while longer - only Brannon had left the room a while ago and the next person to appear, with a crack that startled him up from his chair, was - Zelda.
Zelda who had been absent from dinner and clearly busy, if the ink on her hands and the slightly manic look she wore were anything by which to measure. He’d offered her a perfunctory smile in greeting, instinctively, but at the same time his gaze followed the letter’s descent and by the time he glanced up again, he was sure that she looked stressed. Unhappy. Or... preoccupied, at least.
“You don’t have to,” Ari said, stooping to pick up the letter from the floor and - obviously resisting any and all temptation to look at it, to understand what kind of bad news his sister had clearly gotten - without looking at it (as if to pretend it hadn’t existed at all), offered it back to her. Still, though he didn’t want to pry, it felt callous not to ask. “But are you alright?”
