[This week has been a special kind of hell for Hawke, jumping from hot to cold to hot again at the drop of a hat- or, in yesterday's case, a photograph. The threat against Bethany had been the straw that broke the camel's back. She'd been so frustrated and furious she hadn't noticed when Mio slipped out of the lounge without a word. It hadn't hit her for almost an hour, after she'd gone to collect every book she could find in the libraries on seances and the occult in a flurry of manic energy, that there had been two things missing. The obvious was Vanity trying to snatch her away from kicking furniture. Less so was Mio's light hand on her shoulder and a calming smile.
Hawke should have gone looking for her then but the icy grip of fear the motive had on her pushed her to distraction well into the night and most of today instead. If she put all her focus into the seance in the empty pool she wouldn't have to think about the Sword of Damocles hanging over all their heads.
Aside from a few fitful hours of sleep on Tuesday night she barely sits down until Wednesday evening. She sinks heavily onto the lounge sofa and reaches into the pocket of her jacket to pull out her motive photo again to study it. Does Bethany look more pale than she did at Thanksgiving? Is she eating enough? Are the slight shadows under her eyes a trick of the light or is she not getting enough sleep? The worries she's worked so hard to tamp down over the past weeks bubble up and threaten to overwhelm her in the silence of the lounge, a lump starting to form in her throat the longer she stares at her little sister's face-
The crash of metal on tile from the kitchen snaps her out of her own head. Hawke hurriedly slips Bethany's photo back into her jacket and gets up to hurry toward the sound. She leans around the doorway of the kitchen, brow furrowed in concern, and her ears catch Mio's sob before she sees the sugar cookies scattered on the floor.
...Ah. She's not the only one driven to distraction and failing.]
Hey.
[Hawke approaches with soft footsteps despite her heavy boots, kneeling down to start picking up the hot cookies and carefully place them back on the fallen pan. She doesn't look up at Mio, giving her the time to collect herself if she needs to.]
Five second rule. No use crying over cookies, right?
[It's not about the cookies but for now she can pretend it is. Better broken cookies than breaking hearts.]
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branchandroot
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Date: 2025-06-30 08:14 pm (UTC)Hawke should have gone looking for her then but the icy grip of fear the motive had on her pushed her to distraction well into the night and most of today instead. If she put all her focus into the seance in the empty pool she wouldn't have to think about the Sword of Damocles hanging over all their heads.
Aside from a few fitful hours of sleep on Tuesday night she barely sits down until Wednesday evening. She sinks heavily onto the lounge sofa and reaches into the pocket of her jacket to pull out her motive photo again to study it. Does Bethany look more pale than she did at Thanksgiving? Is she eating enough? Are the slight shadows under her eyes a trick of the light or is she not getting enough sleep? The worries she's worked so hard to tamp down over the past weeks bubble up and threaten to overwhelm her in the silence of the lounge, a lump starting to form in her throat the longer she stares at her little sister's face-
The crash of metal on tile from the kitchen snaps her out of her own head. Hawke hurriedly slips Bethany's photo back into her jacket and gets up to hurry toward the sound. She leans around the doorway of the kitchen, brow furrowed in concern, and her ears catch Mio's sob before she sees the sugar cookies scattered on the floor.
...Ah. She's not the only one driven to distraction and failing.]
Hey.
[Hawke approaches with soft footsteps despite her heavy boots, kneeling down to start picking up the hot cookies and carefully place them back on the fallen pan. She doesn't look up at Mio, giving her the time to collect herself if she needs to.]
Five second rule. No use crying over cookies, right?
[It's not about the cookies but for now she can pretend it is. Better broken cookies than breaking hearts.]