Stronger with every loss,
Her face pinches as confusion washes over her thoughts like a rippling shadow under the surface of the water. Why the Greatwood? Nova's gaze follows her brother's to the colors dotting the horizon, still puzzling over why he'd be going there when the Grounds had been 'fine.' And what's wrong with King's End?
She's still swimming in a sea of questions and worries, not particularly enticed by the prospect of leadership like her sister might have been. The tease doesn't goad a reaction beyond more depth of questions that are moving so fast that even she can't verbalize them. Why would he be talking about taking over the Greatwood if this was temporary? Why didn't they just take over King's End? Or Torchline? Why did he want to leave anyways?
An unfamiliar cold starts in her fingers, sparkles stuttering with the shift of energy, the heaviness of uncertainty and missing answers when Vesper speaks. It's something she's never felt, a sense that things are slipping away where she can't reach, an ache of loss that hasn't come yet. She tries to swallow it, to understand when he mentions how things have ended with Colt. More questions threaten to drown her, unable to comprehend what could have happened, why it keeps happening to her siblings, or why that fractured relationship would push them to such a decision. She had liked Colt, and there's no burn of hatred to cushion the blow this time, to cling to when her world threatens to capsize.
The thoughts are too much, the emotions scattering like beads of water on ice. So much is happening that she doesn't notice she's stopped, can't tell that she's biting her lip when she spins to face him head on. But... does that mean you're not going to see our shop? Caly had been so excited - she'd been so excited - and now the thoughts and dreams that were so bright in her mind fracturing gently beneath the glittering surface. Nova shakes her head, hair fanning around her face. We have it all planned. It's going to have coffee and merch and so many windows and colors, and if you're not there... The shaking stops, her head tilting to look up at Vesper, defiantly bright blue around the sorrows and frustrations, the circumstances that keep ripping at the shallow roots they try to grow. Why do we have to keep leaving? Why can't they leave?
She's still swimming in a sea of questions and worries, not particularly enticed by the prospect of leadership like her sister might have been. The tease doesn't goad a reaction beyond more depth of questions that are moving so fast that even she can't verbalize them. Why would he be talking about taking over the Greatwood if this was temporary? Why didn't they just take over King's End? Or Torchline? Why did he want to leave anyways?
An unfamiliar cold starts in her fingers, sparkles stuttering with the shift of energy, the heaviness of uncertainty and missing answers when Vesper speaks. It's something she's never felt, a sense that things are slipping away where she can't reach, an ache of loss that hasn't come yet. She tries to swallow it, to understand when he mentions how things have ended with Colt. More questions threaten to drown her, unable to comprehend what could have happened, why it keeps happening to her siblings, or why that fractured relationship would push them to such a decision. She had liked Colt, and there's no burn of hatred to cushion the blow this time, to cling to when her world threatens to capsize.
The thoughts are too much, the emotions scattering like beads of water on ice. So much is happening that she doesn't notice she's stopped, can't tell that she's biting her lip when she spins to face him head on. But... does that mean you're not going to see our shop? Caly had been so excited - she'd been so excited - and now the thoughts and dreams that were so bright in her mind fracturing gently beneath the glittering surface. Nova shakes her head, hair fanning around her face. We have it all planned. It's going to have coffee and merch and so many windows and colors, and if you're not there... The shaking stops, her head tilting to look up at Vesper, defiantly bright blue around the sorrows and frustrations, the circumstances that keep ripping at the shallow roots they try to grow. Why do we have to keep leaving? Why can't they leave?
brighter with every win
Nova
