[ She hears that sigh and it makes her want to sigh, the bubbling feeling that she somehow flubbed this all up sinking into her skin. She chances a glance (one that she hopes looks measured and completely put together and not at all waiting to see his reaction) back at him the moment following, finds herself.. Hm. Hardly soothed by the furrow of his brows and she doubles down on the idea he thinks she's a total weirdo.
Which is fair, because she is, but that can't be the weirdest thing here, right?
He's looking for his Egyptian god and Lottie has been trapped here without wifi or any signs of living family for ten months. Normal, right?
And the thing is, he did understand it correctly. Everyone is graced with that nightmare inducing, skin crawling, vision. Unfortunately, she's had it twice. It means she remembers it with a little more clarity than she'd like β than how she'd treat any other dream.
Again, she wishes she could just talk to him through communion, instill on him thoughts and feelings and memories to make the explanation easier. One less word she'd have to let slip from her mouth, one less acknowledgement, because she thinks that too. Has been aggravated and irritated (relieved?) at the colossally slow pace things are at.
But as much as she wants to let him know, she doesn't. Lottie reminds herself to respect his space. She doesn't think about the chance he's be able to see the way she feels though, see her thoughts spill so plainly across her face. Some of them settling on: yeah, Marc is intimidating, but he's also lost (she forces herself to remember this). Asking a question but without really asking, phrasing it in a way that she knows he isn't completely doubting her.
She's still of the same, flighty energy, she was before, only now she's less stiff, less worried about what he'll think and moreso how he'll take this. ]
Yeah, it is. [ 'To me, it is,' goes unsaid. ] But I don't know anymore.
[ It physically pains her to say this, makes her suck air through her teeth, but she isn't lyingβ ]
It's complicated. It's about more than us and our worlds.
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Which is fair, because she is, but that can't be the weirdest thing here, right?
He's looking for his Egyptian god and Lottie has been trapped here without wifi or any signs of living family for ten months. Normal, right?
And the thing is, he did understand it correctly. Everyone is graced with that nightmare inducing, skin crawling, vision. Unfortunately, she's had it twice. It means she remembers it with a little more clarity than she'd like β than how she'd treat any other dream.
Again, she wishes she could just talk to him through communion, instill on him thoughts and feelings and memories to make the explanation easier. One less word she'd have to let slip from her mouth, one less acknowledgement, because she thinks that too. Has been aggravated and irritated (relieved?) at the colossally slow pace things are at.
But as much as she wants to let him know, she doesn't. Lottie reminds herself to respect his space. She doesn't think about the chance he's be able to see the way she feels though, see her thoughts spill so plainly across her face. Some of them settling on: yeah, Marc is intimidating, but he's also lost (she forces herself to remember this). Asking a question but without really asking, phrasing it in a way that she knows he isn't completely doubting her.
She's still of the same, flighty energy, she was before, only now she's less stiff, less worried about what he'll think and moreso how he'll take this. ]
Yeah, it is. [ 'To me, it is,' goes unsaid. ] But I don't know anymore.
[ It physically pains her to say this, makes her suck air through her teeth, but she isn't lyingβ ]
It's complicated. It's about more than us and our worlds.