Finally.
Tatiana was no love-struck girl holding her breath for the man of her dreams to make her an offer of marriage, but as the words left him—fled his tongue, seemingly; she had not known Charles Macmillan to be so sentimental—she did, at least, feel a bit of tension leaving her. Still, she could not help but internally critique his monologue, particularly the notion of finding her long ago—they could have been married last year if he hadn't moved at the speed of a tortoise.
She would not, however, condemn him now that he was doing what he ought to.
In this moment, Tatiana had hoped she would have the self-restraint not to appear too eager, not to look at the ring, but her gaze fell nonetheless. The ring was, indeed, lovely, but there appeared to be a small streak of something upon Mr. Macmillan's hand.
"But Charles," she asked, distracted as she realized it was blood, "what's happened to your hand?" Tatiana's curiosity was masked by an almost genuine concern.
Tatiana was no love-struck girl holding her breath for the man of her dreams to make her an offer of marriage, but as the words left him—fled his tongue, seemingly; she had not known Charles Macmillan to be so sentimental—she did, at least, feel a bit of tension leaving her. Still, she could not help but internally critique his monologue, particularly the notion of finding her long ago—they could have been married last year if he hadn't moved at the speed of a tortoise.
She would not, however, condemn him now that he was doing what he ought to.
In this moment, Tatiana had hoped she would have the self-restraint not to appear too eager, not to look at the ring, but her gaze fell nonetheless. The ring was, indeed, lovely, but there appeared to be a small streak of something upon Mr. Macmillan's hand.
"But Charles," she asked, distracted as she realized it was blood, "what's happened to your hand?" Tatiana's curiosity was masked by an almost genuine concern.
— graphics by mj ❤ —