Firefly Glen a cathedral

elowen stiffens too, though it’s less of a choice and more of an instinct. she doesn’t retreat, but she doesn’t move forward either. she stands there, a quiet tension drawing the space between them taut. his gaze sweeps over her, and she feels it like heat, though she keeps her eyes trained on the ground instead of meeting his. she doesn’t want him to see what’s there—whatever it is she’s trying to hide.

she was always hiding something, though. dismissive and timid, through and through. "been okay," she murmurs, her voice softer than before, like she’s saying it more to herself than to him. there’s an ache somewhere deep, but it’s so subtle, she could almost ignore it. almost. "you don’t have to…"

but then he offers it to her—gently, almost carefully, though she knows he’s not really the type to be careful. she blinks, once, twice, as if the offer might disappear if she doesn’t look at it long enough.

it stings a little more than she expected. hunger? she wasn’t sure what she felt anymore—hunger, jealousy, or something else entirely—but it gnawed at her all the same. her gaze flicks from the rabbit to his face, and she can’t tell if he’s truly offering it out of kindness, or simply because it’s easier than answering whatever’s passing between them. the way the words hang between them, cold like the glen itself. the distance distance—growing, growing still.

the girl chuffs. she's half tempted to decline, push it from her from mere spite, but the rumble of her stomach forces her paw. when he nudges it closer, she drags it closer by the ear to rest it at her paws.

elowen hesitates, her weight shifting awkwardly on her paws. her head dips slightly, shy and unsure. she’s quiet for a moment, the silence stretching, until she finally gathers the courage to speak again.

“i, um… i brought you something.”