04-05-2020, 04:09 PM
His sails caught a softer wind. Asha sagged against his chest, relief palpable. Waves of his anger still trembled out, washing her through with hollow weariness as it passed and began to dissipate. El cupped the back of her head in an awkward pat. Frustration still simmered, but these days that was as familiar as her own shadow. “Idon’tknow,” she mumbled into him. For a long moment she did not move, clinging on as if he were a mast in a storm. When her arms finally unwrapped there was a pink tinge to her cheeks. She brushed the hair back from her face and glanced around plaintively at the mess he had made.
The search had been fruitless. Asha herself enjoyed the fresh air and sway of the boat beneath her feet as they trawled the river, often to be found watching the scenery pass. She avoided the captain’s company when she could, but between Tobias and El that was not hard. Sometimes she let her senses press out into the waters, curious to see if she might feel anything momentous, but she never did.
Frowning, she began an attempt at straightening the room. Asha’s habits were neat, and it was not so much condemnation of his temper as it was something to do. Her arm poked whole through the ruined curtains, and she bundled them to her chest. Perhaps she could do something with the material, but they were no good for hanging anymore. “It’s okay,” she said, and meant it. A brief smile fluttered. “Sometimes when my uncle was… away, he would come back frustrated. When the trail was difficult, sometimes we did something else for a while. A clear head helps. Putting your mind to something else for a while?”
The search had been fruitless. Asha herself enjoyed the fresh air and sway of the boat beneath her feet as they trawled the river, often to be found watching the scenery pass. She avoided the captain’s company when she could, but between Tobias and El that was not hard. Sometimes she let her senses press out into the waters, curious to see if she might feel anything momentous, but she never did.
Frowning, she began an attempt at straightening the room. Asha’s habits were neat, and it was not so much condemnation of his temper as it was something to do. Her arm poked whole through the ruined curtains, and she bundled them to her chest. Perhaps she could do something with the material, but they were no good for hanging anymore. “It’s okay,” she said, and meant it. A brief smile fluttered. “Sometimes when my uncle was… away, he would come back frustrated. When the trail was difficult, sometimes we did something else for a while. A clear head helps. Putting your mind to something else for a while?”