The more he said he would be fine the less Dionisia believed it. He'd spent the entire evening reassuring her that he'd be fine, and then he'd had a panic attack, and now he was back to reassuring her as if she hadn't just watched him struggle to catch his breath in the hallway. She smiled solemnly, because that was all she could provide—a comforting smile, a listening ear, a gentle word of advice. That was all she could be for him in their position, because anything else would cross the boundaries that they'd never expressed aloud but had danced around nevertheless.
She gazed up at him with that sad smile, trying not to think about what could go wrong but whatever might happen next if he somehow made it out of the duel without a scratch. She thought about how they might set up another meeting with Elliott, this time without the backdrop of an impending duel. She thought about how she would tell him what Elliott had been doing since they last saw each other, how he'd discovered a love of muddy puddles and had cried the other day when he realized dragons did not make sounds like ducks or cows but instead breathed fire. She would hold onto that and hope that the next week she was not worried about a funeral she would not be invited to.
"My name is Dionisia, but you can call me Dio. Everyone else does," she said, her hand freezing on the doorknob. She thought she'd have to make a hasty escape back into the nursery to avoid upsetting him (or herself) anymore, but the question about her name was so - out of place. She didn't realize she'd never told him that small but very significant fact about her.
She gazed up at him with that sad smile, trying not to think about what could go wrong but whatever might happen next if he somehow made it out of the duel without a scratch. She thought about how they might set up another meeting with Elliott, this time without the backdrop of an impending duel. She thought about how she would tell him what Elliott had been doing since they last saw each other, how he'd discovered a love of muddy puddles and had cried the other day when he realized dragons did not make sounds like ducks or cows but instead breathed fire. She would hold onto that and hope that the next week she was not worried about a funeral she would not be invited to.
"My name is Dionisia, but you can call me Dio. Everyone else does," she said, her hand freezing on the doorknob. She thought she'd have to make a hasty escape back into the nursery to avoid upsetting him (or herself) anymore, but the question about her name was so - out of place. She didn't realize she'd never told him that small but very significant fact about her.
