Post by Hiko on Feb 7, 2018 8:41:49 GMT -5
((Obviously, Molls has exited the main fest. ))
By the time G'rett had found her, her sobs had devolved into tearless, breathless, heaves. She was trying and failing to win the battle against hyperventilating. It was too much, everything was too much.
And then her friend was there, caring.
Not Elisia, swooping in in sisterly aid.
Not A'zael, apologizing.
G'rett.
She sniffled and rubbed her hand over her face, miserable. There really wasn't much she could do to attempt to compose herself, and she didn't have the energy to try, anyway. Between short, staggered catches of breath, she told him.
“I wasn't flirting! I just, just wanted to, to help,” she stumbled, too grieved to stop the tears from returning. “Orana died. He tried to, tried to mend things before. And he – he looked so – with Srunae with someone else, he looked so sad. I just wanted to help.” she wiped at her eyes, sniffing again, “But I screwed it all up! He – he got too – he implied – it'sallmyfaultG'rett.”
Mollin bent her head back down to her knees, tears flowing in full force once again. She stayed like that for a time, trying her best to calm herself. But it was difficult, more so with an audience. And she was so tired from everything that night. She'd always been decent with her wine; had usually managed to drink the boys back home under the table. Why had she not thought to pace A'zael? It was her fault he'd gotten so drunk. Her fault he'd made that comment – because in the end, it was her fault he could make that comment, wasn't it? She doubted he could have said the same about Haella, or Talera, or Srunae, or any number of other women. But he could say it about her.
When she was able to get a handle on her tears once more, she wiped again at her face. She couldn't look at G'rett. He cared too much.
“We were talking about everything,” she said slowly, swallowing back the lump in her throat, “He was miserable. I – I just wanted to try to be his friend. With Orana gone, I – I was stupid, wasn't I? I thought he could use a friend, and I didn't think. I never think!”
She sniffed and rubbed absently at her nose with a sleeve. “He drank too much. That's my fault. I assumed he could keep up, but he'd been drinking before I got there, and...” she swallowed.
“He said,” Mollin took a shaky breath, working hard to keep from letting the rest of her tremble, “It's stupid. He said I should dress up more often. That I hate getting in the clothes, but they were “fun to take off”.”
She stared forward in retelling, refusing to look G'rett's way. If she did, she knew she would start crying all over.
“If you're going to scold me, just do it. I'd asked you to if I ever did anything stupid again. This whole night, I was nothing but a stupid little girl.” Mollin attempted to pull the pins out of her hair, throwing the ones that she could rescue from the red tresses onto the floor in spite.
“I'm an idiot for thinking I could be better, or that he could change. Look at me! I'm dressed up like some Bitran fantasy, like some – like some fancied up whore. What did I expect? Really? Friendship? How could I be so stupid? I shouldn't have even come tonight.”
As Mollin threw another pin to the ground, the metal gave a soft ting as it hit the floor. She leaned back against the wall, sniffing. It was then that she dared to look at her friend.
“Why am I such a screw up? All I wanted tonight was to spend time with some friends. Be social. And I ended up slapping some ass and crying. I should start writing books on how to fail at life,” she spat the last comment out, too angry at herself to not let the barb slip.
Her gaze lowered, her voice growing quiet as A'zael's words continued to echo in her head.
“How could he say that?” she asked, and her voice wavered.
Alyx
By the time G'rett had found her, her sobs had devolved into tearless, breathless, heaves. She was trying and failing to win the battle against hyperventilating. It was too much, everything was too much.
And then her friend was there, caring.
Not Elisia, swooping in in sisterly aid.
Not A'zael, apologizing.
G'rett.
She sniffled and rubbed her hand over her face, miserable. There really wasn't much she could do to attempt to compose herself, and she didn't have the energy to try, anyway. Between short, staggered catches of breath, she told him.
“I wasn't flirting! I just, just wanted to, to help,” she stumbled, too grieved to stop the tears from returning. “Orana died. He tried to, tried to mend things before. And he – he looked so – with Srunae with someone else, he looked so sad. I just wanted to help.” she wiped at her eyes, sniffing again, “But I screwed it all up! He – he got too – he implied – it'sallmyfaultG'rett.”
Mollin bent her head back down to her knees, tears flowing in full force once again. She stayed like that for a time, trying her best to calm herself. But it was difficult, more so with an audience. And she was so tired from everything that night. She'd always been decent with her wine; had usually managed to drink the boys back home under the table. Why had she not thought to pace A'zael? It was her fault he'd gotten so drunk. Her fault he'd made that comment – because in the end, it was her fault he could make that comment, wasn't it? She doubted he could have said the same about Haella, or Talera, or Srunae, or any number of other women. But he could say it about her.
When she was able to get a handle on her tears once more, she wiped again at her face. She couldn't look at G'rett. He cared too much.
“We were talking about everything,” she said slowly, swallowing back the lump in her throat, “He was miserable. I – I just wanted to try to be his friend. With Orana gone, I – I was stupid, wasn't I? I thought he could use a friend, and I didn't think. I never think!”
She sniffed and rubbed absently at her nose with a sleeve. “He drank too much. That's my fault. I assumed he could keep up, but he'd been drinking before I got there, and...” she swallowed.
“He said,” Mollin took a shaky breath, working hard to keep from letting the rest of her tremble, “It's stupid. He said I should dress up more often. That I hate getting in the clothes, but they were “fun to take off”.”
She stared forward in retelling, refusing to look G'rett's way. If she did, she knew she would start crying all over.
“If you're going to scold me, just do it. I'd asked you to if I ever did anything stupid again. This whole night, I was nothing but a stupid little girl.” Mollin attempted to pull the pins out of her hair, throwing the ones that she could rescue from the red tresses onto the floor in spite.
“I'm an idiot for thinking I could be better, or that he could change. Look at me! I'm dressed up like some Bitran fantasy, like some – like some fancied up whore. What did I expect? Really? Friendship? How could I be so stupid? I shouldn't have even come tonight.”
As Mollin threw another pin to the ground, the metal gave a soft ting as it hit the floor. She leaned back against the wall, sniffing. It was then that she dared to look at her friend.
“Why am I such a screw up? All I wanted tonight was to spend time with some friends. Be social. And I ended up slapping some ass and crying. I should start writing books on how to fail at life,” she spat the last comment out, too angry at herself to not let the barb slip.
Her gaze lowered, her voice growing quiet as A'zael's words continued to echo in her head.
“How could he say that?” she asked, and her voice wavered.
Alyx