There was something in the way he said her name that made the girl's chest tighten. Once again, it seemed she had underestimated her friends. Their capacity for love and caring. the way they allowed her to own a place in their lives. Perhaps it was a lifetime of being overlooked and disregarded that made it so easy for her to believe she didn't matter, but habit should not be allowed to excuse her from trust. Not even when it was hard. Especially not when it was important.
Still. The sheer intensity in Jigano's relief took her by surprise. As did the hug. She did not resist it, far too startled by the unusual display of affection to do anything at all. It was... not uncomfortable. Quite the opposite. The Provost was warm, and smelled of herbs, old books and a shirt that probably had been very clean when he put it on, a long day's hard work ago. His voice sounded odd so close to her ears, far softer than her memory wanted to suggest. When had it been? She couldn't quite recall, but they had exchanged hard words and tense looks, vented frustration and warring ideas.
That seemed a very distant thing now.
Slowly, not sure if she ought to be delighted or embarrassed by the unexpected intimacy, Maea returned the embrace with shy hands around his waist.
"I'm sorry I made you worry" she said, voice a little muffled against his chest. "I didn't mean to leave, never wanted to be away for this long."
And it had been a very long time. Now, more than ever she realized it. When had Jigano become a hugger? Since when did he carry a lantern and walk the night like a second coming of Ludo? It had been enough time to change him, to shape him, and it pained her to realize she had not been there to see any of it. To help, offer support or just... be there. To bear witness.
Still. The sheer intensity in Jigano's relief took her by surprise. As did the hug. She did not resist it, far too startled by the unusual display of affection to do anything at all. It was... not uncomfortable. Quite the opposite. The Provost was warm, and smelled of herbs, old books and a shirt that probably had been very clean when he put it on, a long day's hard work ago. His voice sounded odd so close to her ears, far softer than her memory wanted to suggest. When had it been? She couldn't quite recall, but they had exchanged hard words and tense looks, vented frustration and warring ideas.
That seemed a very distant thing now.
Slowly, not sure if she ought to be delighted or embarrassed by the unexpected intimacy, Maea returned the embrace with shy hands around his waist.
"I'm sorry I made you worry" she said, voice a little muffled against his chest. "I didn't mean to leave, never wanted to be away for this long."
And it had been a very long time. Now, more than ever she realized it. When had Jigano become a hugger? Since when did he carry a lantern and walk the night like a second coming of Ludo? It had been enough time to change him, to shape him, and it pained her to realize she had not been there to see any of it. To help, offer support or just... be there. To bear witness.
