straight away she was glowing with shame: how roundly she dreaded her arrival to grief, not the least of all right in front of someone whose approval she coveted the most.
every line in her body screamed 'i shouldn't have opened my mouth!' -- an unforthcoming shift of her eyes, cutting away, seeking distraction; a cursory look noting that the hind and her fawns had retired to the shade.
"truthfully...?" her soft voice languished. how best to paint in words the dreich landscape of her anxieties?
and was it the gut-lurch of foreboding she meant to describe, or something entirely different?
the silence felt like purgatory, and to that end, phaedra groomed her expression till something more resolved took shape. "i'm afraid that things will be the same as before. and before sucked. i don't want to get my hopes up about things being better," she admitted, her face feeling hot. she stole a glance at her father to gauge his reaction to her preamble, blinking away the sheen of her gaze.
voice lowered to a murmur for the next. she scuffed the dirt. "grownups shouldn't make decisions that force their kid to choose between her parents..."
something as simple as laughter.
this visibly surprised the girl, who then leaned away to fix her father with an unconvinced look.
he continued to speak before she could interject with that’s it? she laughed? and the assumption of some romantic idyll fell away from her such as a silk negligee.
it wasn’t to her disappointment, but something more adjacent to … charm? a thrill went through her and phaedra started to giggle—a candelabra shining on her youth before dimming just as quickly into smiling coughs.
she didn’t mind the idea that love could be contrived from an absence of embellishment. she didn’t mind that at all.
restyling herself with a calmed demeanor, swallowing a few hics of laughter, the girl let a breadth of silence linger between them for a time once his tale was at its end — with a seemingly self-deprecating word of advice no less.
phaedra’s expression softened at that. little did she know of it, with her heart yet unfledged to utter fullness, she was sure enough in her own love for her parents to know that it didn’t insist on its own way; that instead it was a choice you made every day in defiance of all repelling forces.
perhaps not so simple as laughter, but it wasn’t complicated — people were complicated.
“but…, you fight for it — even if its hard,” she said, searching his gaze before turning them to the trees. “you both do.”
that confused her. her brain worked to reconcile the lack of reassurance with her persisting fear of everything falling apart.
“that means its worth it, doesn’t it?” she muttered, looking towards him with a look hinging on hopeful.