she doesn't have even a fraction of a moment to consider how her room might appear to clara. her gaze goes topsy-turvy, wheeling itself across the undeniable mess her shared space with rhys has become. for as cozy as it is, homey in its reminders that it's been lived in, it looks like a storm swept through and knocked their belongings loose.
alina shoots one last self-conscious, fawn-stricken look at the mess she's dragging her friend into, before she quickly swings open the door. her foot nudges a pile of what looks to be expensive dress shirts aside, pooling silk onto the floor, knocking it behind the bed. a messy tarp comes into view, hung up over one side of the wall, as alina gently grasps clara's hands to lead her inside.
with another kick of her foot, the door clicks closed behind them, if only to let clara have her bubble of privacy. there's no need for anyone to intrude on whatever secret she's been keeping, whatever sadness is festering inside of her. greetings pushed aside, alina's brows furrow, searching out answers in the lines and paragraphs of clara's expression. a book alina could read, if only the language it's written in was made known to her.
quietly, she ushers her to sit on the end of the bed with her, perching beside her. ]
Is everything okay?
[ obviously not. she cringes at her own stupid question, but — she's relieved, at least, to find clara unscarred and unscathed. ]
no subject
she doesn't have even a fraction of a moment to consider how her room might appear to clara. her gaze goes topsy-turvy, wheeling itself across the undeniable mess her shared space with rhys has become. for as cozy as it is, homey in its reminders that it's been lived in, it looks like a storm swept through and knocked their belongings loose.
alina shoots one last self-conscious, fawn-stricken look at the mess she's dragging her friend into, before she quickly swings open the door. her foot nudges a pile of what looks to be expensive dress shirts aside, pooling silk onto the floor, knocking it behind the bed. a messy tarp comes into view, hung up over one side of the wall, as alina gently grasps clara's hands to lead her inside.
with another kick of her foot, the door clicks closed behind them, if only to let clara have her bubble of privacy. there's no need for anyone to intrude on whatever secret she's been keeping, whatever sadness is festering inside of her. greetings pushed aside, alina's brows furrow, searching out answers in the lines and paragraphs of clara's expression. a book alina could read, if only the language it's written in was made known to her.
quietly, she ushers her to sit on the end of the bed with her, perching beside her. ]
Is everything okay?
[ obviously not. she cringes at her own stupid question, but — she's relieved, at least, to find clara unscarred and unscathed. ]