08-25-2018, 09:26 PM
Tobias didn't let go.
Asha followed behind him, eyes wide. She felt threadbare amongst the opulence, and way out of her depth. Rich food laid out enough to feed the starving, dishes she didn't even understand, and the smell curled hunger through her stomach. When she'd travelled with her uncle, food had often been an integral part of the communities they passed through. Asha liked to cook, but she saw it through communal eyes. This meal felt sterile, Rowan's servant -- servant -- even leaning in to light the tip of her joint before he filtered himself out from their company.
It felt wrong.
Yet the welcome was genuine, warm -- if wholly extravagant. It should have soothed her; she could feel the tug of it relaxing her body, urging her to smile, even as the anchor of Tobias kept her grounded. His energy wasn't the steadiest in the room, though, for he warred within, pulled in different directions. Asha should have let go, but she didn't. A little entranced. Fractures that had been buried deep lurched more toward the surface. Like he split in half, then shimmered into multitudes. There was a blank pause before he seemed to remember his name.
In fact the only certain thing about him was the touch itself. The grip of a stranger's hand should have been awkward by now. So why was it the only thing he felt sure of?
Guilt widened her eyes at the realisation of her predicament. People with secrets generally reacted the worst, and this man had secrets. Layers upon layers spiralled down to his core. He would think it a gross violation once he knew, surely, even if in that moment it had stopped her drowning. She leaned in to whisper, only half aware of the humming conversation around her. "I'm sorry," she murmured. A blush captured her cheeks. "I should have told you what it did first."
Asha slipped her fingers free, twined her hands guiltily in her lap. She'd lost the tail of the conversation by now, could feel the pulse of embarrassment like a beacon calling shame. Her sense of Tobias dulled, her gift stretching, seeking a balance with a little too much urgency to find it quickly. For a moment she swirled lost in curiosity and ambition and attraction, aware she'd been too deep to let go so quickly. Her hands squeezed tight, and she blinked a few times.
"Oh. Oh, Asha. My name is Asha." She frowned a little, unsure what she'd missed, but sure she should at least offer her name. Her gaze caught on the cards.
Asha followed behind him, eyes wide. She felt threadbare amongst the opulence, and way out of her depth. Rich food laid out enough to feed the starving, dishes she didn't even understand, and the smell curled hunger through her stomach. When she'd travelled with her uncle, food had often been an integral part of the communities they passed through. Asha liked to cook, but she saw it through communal eyes. This meal felt sterile, Rowan's servant -- servant -- even leaning in to light the tip of her joint before he filtered himself out from their company.
It felt wrong.
Yet the welcome was genuine, warm -- if wholly extravagant. It should have soothed her; she could feel the tug of it relaxing her body, urging her to smile, even as the anchor of Tobias kept her grounded. His energy wasn't the steadiest in the room, though, for he warred within, pulled in different directions. Asha should have let go, but she didn't. A little entranced. Fractures that had been buried deep lurched more toward the surface. Like he split in half, then shimmered into multitudes. There was a blank pause before he seemed to remember his name.
In fact the only certain thing about him was the touch itself. The grip of a stranger's hand should have been awkward by now. So why was it the only thing he felt sure of?
Guilt widened her eyes at the realisation of her predicament. People with secrets generally reacted the worst, and this man had secrets. Layers upon layers spiralled down to his core. He would think it a gross violation once he knew, surely, even if in that moment it had stopped her drowning. She leaned in to whisper, only half aware of the humming conversation around her. "I'm sorry," she murmured. A blush captured her cheeks. "I should have told you what it did first."
Asha slipped her fingers free, twined her hands guiltily in her lap. She'd lost the tail of the conversation by now, could feel the pulse of embarrassment like a beacon calling shame. Her sense of Tobias dulled, her gift stretching, seeking a balance with a little too much urgency to find it quickly. For a moment she swirled lost in curiosity and ambition and attraction, aware she'd been too deep to let go so quickly. Her hands squeezed tight, and she blinked a few times.
"Oh. Oh, Asha. My name is Asha." She frowned a little, unsure what she'd missed, but sure she should at least offer her name. Her gaze caught on the cards.