[ It's not like things have been bad, riding out the storm with Little and Kate and Irving. The two men are polite and they give her space, and Kate's still clearly reeling from her first brush with teenage heartbreak, which has been a useful distraction from all the confused adult feelings flying around the place. And if she's being honest, she hadn't really wanted to let Little too far out of her sight after... after everything. She still feels sore and bruised all over from that night, the one where she ran out into the wilderness and tried to force it to bring her back. He was a lifeline then. He still is, with the fresh guilt and heartbreak that keeps swelling to the surface, trying to drag her under.
But she'd been right, with what she'd been trying to say to March. None of this is simple, and she wants to run from it... and him... as much as she wants to cling to it. She's never felt more vulnerable.
And it's not just the red string that leads to him, either; it's all these gold ones. Where she would have expected a nest of black threads, her hands are instead full of gleaming gold: some more faded and frayed than the rest, but unmistakably glowing and golden, each one leading to a friend, an ally, a companion. Before this place, she could count the numbers she had of each of those things on one hand. Now they spill from her fingertips like a bucket of yarn someone's tipped over, and it's... it's too much.
She just needs some air.
It must have shown on her face — actually, it must have been telegraphing through that string — because she'd actually managed to convince Edward that she'd be just fine for the hour or so it'll take her to go back to her own cabin and grab some changes of clothes while the eye of the storm passes uneasily overhead. She doesn't like it — it plucks at the back of her neck; the place is too quiet, too motionless — but the alternative is staying in the cabin and almost definitely fucking something there up beyond repair when she inevitably tries to run later on.
She just needs a break. Just a short one.
She takes the long way around, heading down the main street of the town — but that turns out to be a mistake when another string, that black one that zapped her early on, shifts and tugs at her. She looks up, right before her expression flattens into aggravation.
Great. This fucking guy. ]
Haven't you heard? Storm's coming. You should probably get back inside.
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But she'd been right, with what she'd been trying to say to March. None of this is simple, and she wants to run from it... and him... as much as she wants to cling to it. She's never felt more vulnerable.
And it's not just the red string that leads to him, either; it's all these gold ones. Where she would have expected a nest of black threads, her hands are instead full of gleaming gold: some more faded and frayed than the rest, but unmistakably glowing and golden, each one leading to a friend, an ally, a companion. Before this place, she could count the numbers she had of each of those things on one hand. Now they spill from her fingertips like a bucket of yarn someone's tipped over, and it's... it's too much.
She just needs some air.
It must have shown on her face — actually, it must have been telegraphing through that string — because she'd actually managed to convince Edward that she'd be just fine for the hour or so it'll take her to go back to her own cabin and grab some changes of clothes while the eye of the storm passes uneasily overhead. She doesn't like it — it plucks at the back of her neck; the place is too quiet, too motionless — but the alternative is staying in the cabin and almost definitely fucking something there up beyond repair when she inevitably tries to run later on.
She just needs a break. Just a short one.
She takes the long way around, heading down the main street of the town — but that turns out to be a mistake when another string, that black one that zapped her early on, shifts and tugs at her. She looks up, right before her expression flattens into aggravation.
Great. This fucking guy. ]
Haven't you heard? Storm's coming. You should probably get back inside.