@givcnup
WHEN: Evening of the Big Separation (sad face)
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To be frank, Fava found talking to be exhausting enough but begging? Her personal layer of hell. Being personable has never been her strong suit. She has a distinct warm up period. Just ask Griffin. Or Hudson. Or literally anyone.
She knows she has to get over her social block regardless in order to help Wren. The other members of Twelve – and Districts in general – can’t be the only people lobbying for her sister. It would be most effective coming from her, but she can’t get out three words without a frog in her throat. Quite honestly, she’s a mess. She’s stuttering and sniffling like a weak little toddler and she hates it. She hates the fact she can’t utter Wren’s name without panic soaking her every feature. Even through the makeup that Nelly carefully applied in order to make her look more, well, approachable.
It’s been hours since Wren has been on her own, hours since Fava’s been on her feet and talking to anybody that would lend her an ear. What does she have to prove for it? A half-eaten sandwich and a mug of tea, untouched. She’s on the couch, piled under two blankets, when Griffin enters. (She’s freezing today. Can’t seem to regulate her temperature. Is that a symptom of stress or is she finally dying?)
“Before you say anything,” she begins, “I’m warning you that I’m not in a good mood.” Obviously. How could she be? “This is my attempt at being transparent or whatever.”