@othcrhalf
when: late, first night in the Capitol
They don’t know what they need. To carve out the secret that haunts them, maybe, pass the burden onto someone more worthy, but that’s impossible. Doing so would mean admitting culpability and they just can’t do that. So they’re stuck. In the bleak inbetween, flitting from one person to the next in the hopes that someone can tell them what they’re supposed to be doing. Avoiding their sister. Hiding behind their team (Riggs especially) who need their support now more than ever. Searching for a familiar face in the crowd whose advice has always served them well and coming up empty.
It’s desperation that leads them to sit, cross-legged, on the floor by Robyn’s room. They could’ve tried Roux or Astraea but Virgo’s sense of self-preservation means they opt for the least intimidating of the three. There’s something off about the escort. Shallow, cracked. Maybe they’re projecting but it’s hard not to feel for them after the way Blythe had spoken of their twin. They wish they’d brought flowers.
There isn’t time to second guess themselves before they hear footsteps. Virgo stands and brushes non-existent dirt from their backside. They plaster on a smile, too-bright, and work hard to sound chipper. “Excuse me.” Too brusque, they pare it back a touch and swing their arms beside them. Head in the clouds, unaffected. “Where’s Swann?”