the line was drawn before yasha was taken. it was etched in the space between them the moment beau learned of yasha’s past and the wife she had lost. it wasn’t meant to separate them, just redefine.
difficult, given flirtation with everything else at arms length was so much simpler than opening herself up.
they’d started to bridge it though, just a little, that night by the fire. but now with all that’s happened the gap has only broken wider, splitting like barren earth.
beau doesn’t mean to avoid her; she can feel the regret and guilt even as she avoids eye contact or keeps to another part of camp. she was uncertain how to be around her before. and now, well... she’s no good at emotional shit.
beau doubts there’s anything she could say to make the pain better.
but the last thing she wants is for yasha to think she’s angry with her, that she holds even a single thing against her. so she makes herself approach first, trying her best to stave off the awkwardness she feels.
yasha’s response is a sort of invitation. or at least not a direct ‘fuck off’, so beau drops down near her.
“ yeah. yeah, i’m good. are you- uh- doing better? “
the question comes out blocky, the attempted softening of her tone clumsy and wrong. she tells herself this is why she’s kept her distance for so long. but she swallows down the thought and pushes through, reaching into her expositor robes and pulling out a slightly crumpled, lifeless flower.
“ thought you might want to start collecting again. now that you’re- you know... “
@griefsangel cont. from x
