[ lys can throw her own wrist across the room, i believe in her ]
I'm fine.
[ Technically true! She feels fine!! But that seems so inadequate of an answer after....everything. Should she say more?? Elaborate? But what if Lys really is just doing a brief check-up, then maybe it would be a hassle for her to go into great detail.
[They're great at this. Just the best. The old excuse is easy to fall back on, since technically she's not sick or injured. Only stuck staring at those typed words with a growing knot in her stomach, a knot that seems determined to grow from the size of her fist to a small melon. Then bigger and bigger, until she's gravid with it, unable to speak and struggling to swallow.]
[ They're both fine. How wonderful! There's absolutely nothing to be worried about, except for everything that had happened before. Annette groans into her pillow before sitting back up to tip-tap a message back. ]
Yeah, it's nice not to have to trudge through all that snow anymore.
[ Or weaponize the snow into projectile missiles aimed at friends. Hm. ]
About the same. I've been spending all this free time practicing my spells.
[ You know, like the one she used to singe off Lys's eyebrow? Yeah, good times! ]
There's not a lot of room in here though so it's kind of hard...
[ But apparently not as hard as bringing up awkward subjects she would rather keep buried in the past? Hmmmmm. Actually, that's a lie, she's going to stop beating around the bush for a whole second to ask: ]
[Considering, you know, she had the presence of mind to blast Lys with a spell while pinned down and getting her face washed with snow. But that's suddenly not as important as the dawning realization that Annette actually went there. Actually brought it up. That she also admires Annette for it gets blocked up in her throat, burning there along with an apology.]
oh, i'm fine! my eyebrow grew back really quickly just like the hair on my head always does i have to get it cut pretty often if i don't want it down to my knees
[And now she's just babbling like an idiot, typing out thoughts that aren't important simply because they sting less. Like washing the skin around a burn instead of properly scrubbing it clean, shying away from the pain.]
[ Better than good, knowing that she hadn't injured Lys worse than a little bit of temporary facial disfigurement. It breaks the dam inside her, of uncomfortable feelings that had bounced around restlessly with no outlet until now.
Almost in a mirror of Lys, she starts sending out her own string of messages with no pause in between. ]
I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said all those things before, I don't know what came over me. I didn't mean any of it and you definitely didn't deserve any of it. You don't have to forgive me but I wanted you to know... I'm sorry I threw snow at you too and tried to burn your face off
[Her stomach twists with every word read and every word typed, tighter and tighter, the buffer and sanctuary of text becoming claustrophobic instead, a hateful artifice that made everything she wanted to say ring hollow and insincere. How could she apologize like this? Annette could do it and seem so brave, so noble, but coming from Lys it would only be a farce. Empty, a mockery.
So Lys switches to voice with all the self-punishing impulse of a band-aid being ripped off, a dislocated bone being set back into place, too quickly for second thoughts.]
....it was mine. I started it. I don't even know why or what the hell was wrong with me, but—it's my fault, Annette. You were just defending yourself from me. [A hard swallow, husky voice thick with emotion.] You've been my friend. You shouldn't have ever had to do that.
[ It's so much worse, to hear the low sound of Lys's voice ring out through the speaker of her bracelet. Her heart hammers in her throat, face twisted with remorse. She barely even waits for Lys to finish speaking, cutting in before the last word has had a chance to die in the air. ]
Don't say that.
[ A soft whisper, said automatically before Annette realizes her own device is still set to text. All it takes is a press of a button before she's repeating herself, louder this time but with just as much fervent emotion. ]
Don't say that, Lys. Even if you started it, I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it. [ How, she doesn't know, but there'll be a time and place to think with a cool head later. ] Instead I just made it all worse. I—I tried to hurt you.
[ Fire is dangerous, fire is fickle, fire requires a razor-tight control to be mastered perfectly, something she's never had. ]
Friends don't try and hurt each other.
[ Her voice is back to a whisper now, her mind transported elsewhere for a brief moment in time. ]
[Like a knife through her, that whisper. It chops through her ribs to her heart, twisting painfully. Annette should never have to sound like that. Smiles and giggles and bright laughter were what suited her best.]
They don't. But we did. I did, and—
[ "—it could have been so much worse" rips through her thoughts but dies on her tongue, chilling her insides even as she bites the words back. She never likes thinking about how she's so much stronger than normal humans, but usually it's an easy thing to ignore. Calling upon that strength was an active decision, channeled by choice; she could go through life without accidentally destroying everything she touched. But that also meant her dangerous strength was only an act of will away, and if she got angry enough....
She imagines breaking Annette's arm, snapping it like a brittle twig, and feels so sick that her stomach cramps.]
And I wish you had stopped me. I wish you'd blasted me before I could open my big stupid mouth.
[Breathing through her nose, fighting not to vomit, Lys covers her face with one hand. Talking and listening was difficult enough; anything else was overload.]
...but you didn't. 'Cause that's not you, Annette. You're kind, and good....i-it's crazy to me that you think there's anything you gotta apologize for.
[ It's obvious that they're a mess, the both of them, but Annette has never been all too good at pulling herself together for the sake of another person, too easily influenced by any and all emotions in the air. The compliments Lys lays upon her, quick and in succession, only make her feel worse. ]
Stop.
[ Stop saying nice things, stop beating yourself up. There's so many things she wants to say that she can't bring herself too, burying her face instead in her hands as she tries to quell the mounting guilt inside of her. ]
We both— [ she hiccups and tries again ] we both messed up. I'm not any better than you are, and I'm definitely not as nice as you say I am.
[ Would Lys still say that, if she knew how many people Annette had killed? How many of her old classmates she'd taken down on the battlefield with that exact same fire spell? She doesn't know, and she doesn't want to find out. ]
Are you home?
[ It's an abrupt change in conversation, surprisingly forceful compared to her weepy words from earlier. ]
[It's low, muttered under her ragged breath. She's on the verge of saying more—self-hating nonsense that wouldn't help anything but at least brought a twisted kind of affirmation—when Annette speaks again. Forceful this time, cutting through the crying. It's enough to make Lys pause, slowly lifting her arm from over her eyes to regard the ceiling.]
Y...Yeah. [A beat of silence that's pointless, meaningless; she already knows what she's about to say. Half-hopeful, half-confused, still guilty, her voice calms slightly, latching on to the steadiness in Annette's own.] Do you want to come over? I-I could make hot cocoa...or tea...
[ Does she want to come over? She would rather follow in the footsteps of a thousand of her ancestors and practice the tried-and-true Faerghan method of ignoring the merits of communication and willing problems into the ether by ignoring them long enough.
But tragically, she's learned from experience that ignoring problems only make them worse and not better, and deep-down she's simply too practical to believe in fairy tale endings where all problems magically solve themselves.
She sighs, swinging her legs over bed. ]
If you don't mind. [ Her coming over, that is. ] But you really don't have to make anything! I'm already taking up so much of your time...
[ And also she doesn't deserve tea, not after everything. ]
[That much, at least, is the truth. Instead she would have avoided making the offer at all, keeping to the socially gray area between inviting Annette and flat-out telling her to stay away. Lys takes a deep breath, the sound suspiciously close to a sniffle as she forces herself to sit up. Protests or no, she's going to have hot drinks ready, and that meant she had to get up and find the kettle, boil some water, get ingredients together...]
And you're never a waste of time. [...] Be careful on your way over, okay?
[ The reassurance does little to soothe her agitated nerves, but she forces an (unseen) smile anyway. ]
I will. I promise.
[ Though, considering how long it takes for her to show up outside of Lys's door, some fifteen minutes longer than usual, maybe Lys was justified in telling her to be careful. The reason is made readily apparently, once Lys opens the door after a timid few knocks: there's a box held in Annette's hands, with the smell of freshly baked something wafting in the air. ]
Sorry I'm late! I wanted to pick up some treats for the tea, since tea always tastes better if you have something to eat along with it.
[ And also she may or may not have wanted something to shove into her mouth in case of (conversational) emergency. ]
[As usual, the door is already unlocked. But instead of calling out in invitation and welcome from the kitchen or couch or wherever else like she normally did, Lys somehow finds the guts to open the door herself, standing tall with unmarred skin and both eyebrows intact. And deep, dark hollows under her eyes like she hasn't been sleeping well, because she hasn't. Not after their fight, not without 6O curled up beside her—something Lys has felt too guilty and uncomfortable to ask for, kept from seeking comfort by her sense of overwhelming shame.]
You're not late. [She glances at the box with a smile that's just a little vague.] It smells really good! I bet they'll taste great.
[Better than the platitudes turning to ash in her mouth, anyway. Gesturing for Annette to follow, she walks back inside, heading for the kitchen where steaming cups of tea and hot cocoa are waiting on the spotlessly clean counters.]
I, uh, ending up making both....but you don't have to have both if you don't want to.
[ She scuttles in behind Lys, eyes darting around the apartment - the furniture, the decorations - anything to avoid looking directly at Lys even as she follows the taller girl towards the kitchen. ]
I like both! [ Wait— ] I mean, one after the other, not at the same time.
[ Great. Two minutes into this and she already sounds like an idiot. Carefully, she slide the box of pastries onto a patch of open counter space, hovering next to it restlessly while Lys beelines for the drinks. ]
But maybe tea would be better, to start with.
[ Less chance of her overloading on sugar and making even more bad life decisions that way. Her gaze moves around again, her fingers worrying away at the fabric of her dress. ]
[The kitchen is where all the cabinets are, and it's from the cabinets that Lys draws out two small plates: cheap white ceramic that's plain and unadorned, clinking and clanking as she stacks one on top of the other. The comment makes her look up, and she glances around as though seeing the once-upon-a-time bed and breakfast for the first time—really seeing it. Not as a temporary base, a roof over her head, a place as betwixt and between as she often felt on the nameless island, but something close to a home.]
You think so? ...thanks, Annette. I'm glad I finally got around to asking for furniture.
[Speaking of which...Lys briskly sweeps the plates and pastry box into the crook of one arm, threads her fingers through the cup handles so that she's carrying two in each hand, and carries the whole lot with the ease of a professional waiter over to the couch and coffee table arranged just so in the living room area. Ignoring, rather pointedly, what looks like a perfectly serviceable table set just off to the side in the kitchen.]
Of course, the robots just had to be weird about that, too. Those table and chairs are enchanted or something.
[ It may not be the fanciest place she's ever visited - and after visiting the royal castle in the Fhirdiad, everything else just pales in comparison - but it is cozy and comfortable, a place she wouldn't mind returning to after a long day. ]
Yeah! I wouldn't mind living in a place like this.
[ Not that her place is bad though. There are plenty of different homes, little nooks and crannies scattered across the island, that she would find perfectly acceptable to live in for the duration of her stay in this place.
Her head keeps twisting this way and that as she follows behind Lys, but whatever else she's about to say is lost at the mention of an enchanted table. She blinks, attention immediately darting behind her to the only other table in the place. ]
Enchanted? How?
[ This might partially be a stall for time, but she is also just genuinely curious about anything even remotely resembling magic in this place. ]
[Sitting back on the couch, Lys sets out the plates and opens the pastry box without taking any. Pushes Annette's tea and cocoa along the coffee table for her friend to take, in whatever order and at whatever pace that Annette preferred, then takes up her own mug of cocoa with a soft, frustrated sigh.]
They shrink to the size of doll furniture unless there's something....sexual happening nearby. It's weird.
[She holds her mug too close, the warmth a quiet balm in her hands, taking a long sip despite the heat that scalds her lips and throat. Shakes her head to clear it, shrugs her shoulders to let those comments roll away. Then, without lifting her gaze from her drink—unable to face up to seeing her friend flinch or recoil—she hesitantly reaches out with her free hand to touch Annette's shoulder.]
That is definitely not the type of enchantment she was hoping for - though absolutely the type she ought to have expected - and she wrinkles her nose as she scoots further along the couch. Away from the (cursed) table, a little closer to Lys.
The proximity sends a fresh memory of their fight through her mind, and her shoulders tuck inward in shame, tea and cocoa going ignored as she wallows in more (useless) self-pity. It's only the light touch of a hand on one shoulder that gets her to look up. Despite everything, Lys is still here, still happy to see her, and that gets Annette moving again, both hands reaching up to grab the other girl's hand and clasp it tightly between her own. ]
It's always better to apologize in person. Or at least, that's what Mercie always tells me.
[ She lets out a breath, takes another deep one in. ]
And friends apologize to each other after a fight. [ Her heart hammers in her chest as she forces out the next question. ] We are still friends, right?
[Her fingers curl gently around Annette's hand. Careful, careful not to squeeze too hard no matter the strength of Annette's own grip, warmed as much by the physical contact as by those words.]
Of course we are. I mean...so long as that's what you really want.
[She feels a sudden prick of guilt, there and gone like the stab of a quickly withdrawn icepick. For once not about their fight—the things she said and did, the way she'd provoked Annette to respond in kind—but for everything she's never told Annette. Never shared with her. I'm a werewolf. I've died dozens of times. Sometimes when I killed bandits, I liked it. Guilt, sudden and sharp, for those crucial degrees of separation.
[ The words burst forth, bright and impassioned, her hands tightening even more. ]
I wouldn't have asked about it if I didn't.
[ And that should be that, everything tied up with a neat bow now that all their apologies have been said and they've reaffirmed their friendship. But she feels raw inside still and Lys seems unsettled, the quickly fading volume of her voice enough to send a fresh wave of nerves jangling through Annette's body. ]
[She licks away the chocolate mustache her long swallow of cocoa had left her with, wiping her mouth with one of the napkins to make sure nothing remains. Then, careful as though she was handling spun glass, she touches Annette's face. Hesitates for an eternity of five seconds—]
And...I'm really lucky to know you.
[—before gently tilting Annette's chin up, leaning in to press a quick, chaste kiss to her forehead. Once the moment is over, she draws away shyly, insides prickling with a flustered heat that has nothing to do with the cocoa.]
[ All thoughts careen out of her mind at the gentle press of lips against her forehead. It should be comforting, an act that chases away any lingering doubts about their friendship, but instead it only leaves her with more questions than before. What does it mean? (Probably nothing.) Should she say anything about it? (She will, because she can't keep her big fat mouth silent.)
Her eyes are wide and her cheeks flushed, the cocoa in her hands completely forgotten by this point. ]
Lys...?
[ That single word is all she can say, too stunned to manage anything else. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pinches you
I'm fine.
[ Technically true! She feels fine!! But that seems so inadequate of an answer after....everything. Should she say more?? Elaborate? But what if Lys really is just doing a brief check-up, then maybe it would be a hassle for her to go into great detail.
Ughhhghghghg.
Cautiously, she sends a follow-up. ]
How about you?
no subject
[They're great at this. Just the best. The old excuse is easy to fall back on, since technically she's not sick or injured. Only stuck staring at those typed words with a growing knot in her stomach, a knot that seems determined to grow from the size of her fist to a small melon. Then bigger and bigger, until she's gravid with it, unable to speak and struggling to swallow.]
it's nice that the weather's calmed down, huh?
[The weather, for Ilse's sake.]
no subject
[ They're both fine. How wonderful! There's absolutely nothing to be worried about, except for everything that had happened before. Annette groans into her pillow before sitting back up to tip-tap a message back. ]
Yeah, it's nice not to have to trudge through all that snow anymore.
[ Or weaponize the snow into projectile missiles aimed at friends. Hm. ]
Have you been staying warm okay?
[ How long can they avoid the subject for... ]
no subject
["We said and did things we both totally meant in the moment, for no reason that makes any sense to us in the here and now, but hey!"]
i've been staying inside
so it hasn't been too hard
still wish i'd thought to ask for a fireplace
[If an arrow could come flying through the window to bury itself in her skull, that'd be welcome.]
what about you?
no subject
[ You know, like the one she used to singe off Lys's eyebrow? Yeah, good times! ]
There's not a lot of room in here though so it's kind of hard...
[ But apparently not as hard as bringing up awkward subjects she would rather keep buried in the past? Hmmmmm. Actually, that's a lie, she's going to stop beating around the bush for a whole second to ask: ]
How's your face doing? From when I
you know
[ Goodbye punctuation, hello anxiety. ]
no subject
[Considering, you know, she had the presence of mind to blast Lys with a spell while pinned down and getting her face washed with snow. But that's suddenly not as important as the dawning realization that Annette actually went there. Actually brought it up. That she also admires Annette for it gets blocked up in her throat, burning there along with an apology.]
oh, i'm fine!
my eyebrow grew back really quickly
just like the hair on my head always does
i have to get it cut pretty often if i don't want it down to my knees
[And now she's just babbling like an idiot, typing out thoughts that aren't important simply because they sting less. Like washing the skin around a burn instead of properly scrubbing it clean, shying away from the pain.]
so don't worry about that, okay?
no subject
good
[ Better than good, knowing that she hadn't injured Lys worse than a little bit of temporary facial disfigurement. It breaks the dam inside her, of uncomfortable feelings that had bounced around restlessly with no outlet until now.
Almost in a mirror of Lys, she starts sending out her own string of messages with no pause in between. ]
I'm sorry!
I shouldn't have said all those things before, I don't know what came over me.
I didn't mean any of it and you definitely didn't deserve any of it.
You don't have to forgive me but I wanted you to know...
I'm sorry I threw snow at you too
and tried to burn your face off
no subject
just don't
it wasn't your fault
[Her stomach twists with every word read and every word typed, tighter and tighter, the buffer and sanctuary of text becoming claustrophobic instead, a hateful artifice that made everything she wanted to say ring hollow and insincere. How could she apologize like this? Annette could do it and seem so brave, so noble, but coming from Lys it would only be a farce. Empty, a mockery.
So Lys switches to voice with all the self-punishing impulse of a band-aid being ripped off, a dislocated bone being set back into place, too quickly for second thoughts.]
....it was mine. I started it. I don't even know why or what the hell was wrong with me, but—it's my fault, Annette. You were just defending yourself from me. [A hard swallow, husky voice thick with emotion.] You've been my friend. You shouldn't have ever had to do that.
no subject
Don't say that.
[ A soft whisper, said automatically before Annette realizes her own device is still set to text. All it takes is a press of a button before she's repeating herself, louder this time but with just as much fervent emotion. ]
Don't say that, Lys. Even if you started it, I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it. [ How, she doesn't know, but there'll be a time and place to think with a cool head later. ] Instead I just made it all worse. I—I tried to hurt you.
[ Fire is dangerous, fire is fickle, fire requires a razor-tight control to be mastered perfectly, something she's never had. ]
Friends don't try and hurt each other.
[ Her voice is back to a whisper now, her mind transported elsewhere for a brief moment in time. ]
no subject
They don't. But we did. I did, and—
[ "—it could have been so much worse" rips through her thoughts but dies on her tongue, chilling her insides even as she bites the words back. She never likes thinking about how she's so much stronger than normal humans, but usually it's an easy thing to ignore. Calling upon that strength was an active decision, channeled by choice; she could go through life without accidentally destroying everything she touched. But that also meant her dangerous strength was only an act of will away, and if she got angry enough....
She imagines breaking Annette's arm, snapping it like a brittle twig, and feels so sick that her stomach cramps.]
And I wish you had stopped me. I wish you'd blasted me before I could open my big stupid mouth.
[Breathing through her nose, fighting not to vomit, Lys covers her face with one hand. Talking and listening was difficult enough; anything else was overload.]
...but you didn't. 'Cause that's not you, Annette. You're kind, and good....i-it's crazy to me that you think there's anything you gotta apologize for.
no subject
Stop.
[ Stop saying nice things, stop beating yourself up. There's so many things she wants to say that she can't bring herself too, burying her face instead in her hands as she tries to quell the mounting guilt inside of her. ]
We both— [ she hiccups and tries again ] we both messed up. I'm not any better than you are, and I'm definitely not as nice as you say I am.
[ Would Lys still say that, if she knew how many people Annette had killed? How many of her old classmates she'd taken down on the battlefield with that exact same fire spell? She doesn't know, and she doesn't want to find out. ]
Are you home?
[ It's an abrupt change in conversation, surprisingly forceful compared to her weepy words from earlier. ]
no subject
[It's low, muttered under her ragged breath. She's on the verge of saying more—self-hating nonsense that wouldn't help anything but at least brought a twisted kind of affirmation—when Annette speaks again. Forceful this time, cutting through the crying. It's enough to make Lys pause, slowly lifting her arm from over her eyes to regard the ceiling.]
Y...Yeah. [A beat of silence that's pointless, meaningless; she already knows what she's about to say. Half-hopeful, half-confused, still guilty, her voice calms slightly, latching on to the steadiness in Annette's own.] Do you want to come over? I-I could make hot cocoa...or tea...
🖕
But tragically, she's learned from experience that ignoring problems only make them worse and not better, and deep-down she's simply too practical to believe in fairy tale endings where all problems magically solve themselves.
She sighs, swinging her legs over bed. ]
If you don't mind. [ Her coming over, that is. ] But you really don't have to make anything! I'm already taking up so much of your time...
[ And also she doesn't deserve tea, not after everything. ]
👉👌
[That much, at least, is the truth. Instead she would have avoided making the offer at all, keeping to the socially gray area between inviting Annette and flat-out telling her to stay away. Lys takes a deep breath, the sound suspiciously close to a sniffle as she forces herself to sit up. Protests or no, she's going to have hot drinks ready, and that meant she had to get up and find the kettle, boil some water, get ingredients together...]
And you're never a waste of time. [...] Be careful on your way over, okay?
wow, lewd
I will. I promise.
[ Though, considering how long it takes for her to show up outside of Lys's door, some fifteen minutes longer than usual, maybe Lys was justified in telling her to be careful. The reason is made readily apparently, once Lys opens the door after a timid few knocks: there's a box held in Annette's hands, with the smell of freshly baked something wafting in the air. ]
Sorry I'm late! I wanted to pick up some treats for the tea, since tea always tastes better if you have something to eat along with it.
[ And also she may or may not have wanted something to shove into her mouth in case of (conversational) emergency. ]
send lewds
You're not late. [She glances at the box with a smile that's just a little vague.] It smells really good! I bet they'll taste great.
[Better than the platitudes turning to ash in her mouth, anyway. Gesturing for Annette to follow, she walks back inside, heading for the kitchen where steaming cups of tea and hot cocoa are waiting on the spotlessly clean counters.]
I, uh, ending up making both....but you don't have to have both if you don't want to.
no subject
I like both! [ Wait— ] I mean, one after the other, not at the same time.
[ Great. Two minutes into this and she already sounds like an idiot. Carefully, she slide the box of pastries onto a patch of open counter space, hovering next to it restlessly while Lys beelines for the drinks. ]
But maybe tea would be better, to start with.
[ Less chance of her overloading on sugar and making even more bad life decisions that way. Her gaze moves around again, her fingers worrying away at the fabric of her dress. ]
Your place is really nice.
no subject
You think so? ...thanks, Annette. I'm glad I finally got around to asking for furniture.
[Speaking of which...Lys briskly sweeps the plates and pastry box into the crook of one arm, threads her fingers through the cup handles so that she's carrying two in each hand, and carries the whole lot with the ease of a professional waiter over to the couch and coffee table arranged just so in the living room area. Ignoring, rather pointedly, what looks like a perfectly serviceable table set just off to the side in the kitchen.]
Of course, the robots just had to be weird about that, too. Those table and chairs are enchanted or something.
no subject
Yeah! I wouldn't mind living in a place like this.
[ Not that her place is bad though. There are plenty of different homes, little nooks and crannies scattered across the island, that she would find perfectly acceptable to live in for the duration of her stay in this place.
Her head keeps twisting this way and that as she follows behind Lys, but whatever else she's about to say is lost at the mention of an enchanted table. She blinks, attention immediately darting behind her to the only other table in the place. ]
Enchanted? How?
[ This might partially be a stall for time, but she is also just genuinely curious about anything even remotely resembling magic in this place. ]
no subject
They shrink to the size of doll furniture unless there's something....sexual happening nearby. It's weird.
[She holds her mug too close, the warmth a quiet balm in her hands, taking a long sip despite the heat that scalds her lips and throat. Shakes her head to clear it, shrugs her shoulders to let those comments roll away. Then, without lifting her gaze from her drink—unable to face up to seeing her friend flinch or recoil—she hesitantly reaches out with her free hand to touch Annette's shoulder.]
...I'm really glad you came.
no subject
That is definitely not the type of enchantment she was hoping for - though absolutely the type she ought to have expected - and she wrinkles her nose as she scoots further along the couch. Away from the (cursed) table, a little closer to Lys.
The proximity sends a fresh memory of their fight through her mind, and her shoulders tuck inward in shame, tea and cocoa going ignored as she wallows in more (useless) self-pity. It's only the light touch of a hand on one shoulder that gets her to look up. Despite everything, Lys is still here, still happy to see her, and that gets Annette moving again, both hands reaching up to grab the other girl's hand and clasp it tightly between her own. ]
It's always better to apologize in person. Or at least, that's what Mercie always tells me.
[ She lets out a breath, takes another deep one in. ]
And friends apologize to each other after a fight. [ Her heart hammers in her chest as she forces out the next question. ] We are still friends, right?
no subject
Of course we are. I mean...so long as that's what you really want.
[She feels a sudden prick of guilt, there and gone like the stab of a quickly withdrawn icepick. For once not about their fight—the things she said and did, the way she'd provoked Annette to respond in kind—but for everything she's never told Annette. Never shared with her. I'm a werewolf. I've died dozens of times. Sometimes when I killed bandits, I liked it. Guilt, sudden and sharp, for those crucial degrees of separation.
But is it guilt, or grief? Or both?]
'Cause it's what I want, and...um...
no subject
[ The words burst forth, bright and impassioned, her hands tightening even more. ]
I wouldn't have asked about it if I didn't.
[ And that should be that, everything tied up with a neat bow now that all their apologies have been said and they've reaffirmed their friendship. But she feels raw inside still and Lys seems unsettled, the quickly fading volume of her voice enough to send a fresh wave of nerves jangling through Annette's body. ]
And...?
no subject
And...I'm really lucky to know you.
[—before gently tilting Annette's chin up, leaning in to press a quick, chaste kiss to her forehead. Once the moment is over, she draws away shyly, insides prickling with a flustered heat that has nothing to do with the cocoa.]
That's all.
no subject
Her eyes are wide and her cheeks flushed, the cocoa in her hands completely forgotten by this point. ]
Lys...?
[ That single word is all she can say, too stunned to manage anything else. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
is this the tag where you tell me annette smells like bleach and basement mold
yeah, she smells like pool chlorine and a month-old cut of beef
zesty