[ She doesn't enjoy this feeling of her heart splintering apart again. In her usual, Hilda way, she had patched the cracks back together with stickers, crystals and bright baubles in an attempt to tell herself that she was getting over it and that nothing was wrong. In vain she had tried to fill the absence of him with dirt and flowers like that would somehow nurture something else to grow in its place. The Feywilds had helped, with its pastel, dreamlike scenery. There hadn't been any moping or pouting from her, taking every experience in stride. The distractions helped so long as she didn't let herself stop to think about how that was possibly a once-in-a-lifetime experience that she would have loved to experience with him. It's catching up to her now: the denial, the flowers that refuse to take root, the feeling of how good it is to be held by him and how she'll never experience that again and it's for others to have now.
The original box she had come here looking for still stands stalwart on the shelf she had left it on. After a moment's hesitation, the jewelry box finds a place inside amongst her other supplies. The dent in the lid feels fitting somehow. It's not beyond repair. It still works. And objectively speaking, she knows she can fix it by hammering it out but that feels like a metaphor for something she doesn't want to dwell on. Steeling herself she tries to draw in a breath but finds it halting instead. Several more moments pass in an attempt to pull herself together, to stop unnecessary tears from forming before she turns around to retrieve her cardboard box.
Thankfully, nothing inside is damaged. The small pouch containing the beads he had picked out at the market lie nestled in their velvet bag.glinting up at her like wyvern eyes. The sight prompts her to draw the bag shut immediately. Her other project is in there too, waiting for the final finishing touch that she's been keeping at the Old Public Hall. She tries to compartmentalize everything she's feeling into the box as she closes the lid. They strain against the constraints of the box but she pushes down, hard. If he doesn't care, then she can't either. How else is she supposed to protect herself? How else will she ever get over this hurt she's carried with her for months? How else will she ever grieve the loss that is Claude?
When the cardboard box is placed alongside the jewelry box she returns to help him with the boxes. She doesn't want to argue. Hadn't even meant what she had said as an avenue for bickering. Uncomfortable silence accompanied by the fall of their feet and the soft shifting of boxes fills the air. When the boxes are situated again, Hilda motions to their little pyramid with a measured expression, devoid of anything on purpose. ]
no subject
The original box she had come here looking for still stands stalwart on the shelf she had left it on. After a moment's hesitation, the jewelry box finds a place inside amongst her other supplies. The dent in the lid feels fitting somehow. It's not beyond repair. It still works. And objectively speaking, she knows she can fix it by hammering it out but that feels like a metaphor for something she doesn't want to dwell on. Steeling herself she tries to draw in a breath but finds it halting instead. Several more moments pass in an attempt to pull herself together, to stop unnecessary tears from forming before she turns around to retrieve her cardboard box.
Thankfully, nothing inside is damaged. The small pouch containing the beads he had picked out at the market lie nestled in their velvet bag.glinting up at her like wyvern eyes. The sight prompts her to draw the bag shut immediately. Her other project is in there too, waiting for the final finishing touch that she's been keeping at the Old Public Hall. She tries to compartmentalize everything she's feeling into the box as she closes the lid. They strain against the constraints of the box but she pushes down, hard. If he doesn't care, then she can't either. How else is she supposed to protect herself? How else will she ever get over this hurt she's carried with her for months? How else will she ever grieve the loss that is Claude?
When the cardboard box is placed alongside the jewelry box she returns to help him with the boxes. She doesn't want to argue. Hadn't even meant what she had said as an avenue for bickering. Uncomfortable silence accompanied by the fall of their feet and the soft shifting of boxes fills the air. When the boxes are situated again, Hilda motions to their little pyramid with a measured expression, devoid of anything on purpose. ]
Second time's the charm?