Emerging from the hide tent with her back, Steph ... sits down on it, instead of unpacking and digging out the tent, and puts her face in her hands for a second.
Just a second. Then she's sitting there to watch Sokka work, resentful and guilty and hurting and with harsh and true words ringing in her head.
She's too old to feel like this. Drawing a deep breath, she folds her legs up under her, tucks her hood down to protect her from the wind, and lets her breathing relax into meditation, counting heartbeats to force herself to be calm, eyes closed.
In.
Probably shouldn't have come.
Out.
Invaded is the right word.
In.
He wasn't this angry this morning.
Out.
Something happened.
In.
He had the radio. Called Mel.
Out.
Didn't go well. Or maybe it's not that. Maybe it's me.
In.
Is it possible we're over?
Out - and she chokes slightly on laughter, both of ridicule at the thought and of relief that the thought was so ridiculous. It's always nice to know. Damn, there went her rhythm.
no subject
Just a second. Then she's sitting there to watch Sokka work, resentful and guilty and hurting and with harsh and true words ringing in her head.
She's too old to feel like this. Drawing a deep breath, she folds her legs up under her, tucks her hood down to protect her from the wind, and lets her breathing relax into meditation, counting heartbeats to force herself to be calm, eyes closed.
In.
Probably shouldn't have come.
Out.
Invaded is the right word.
In.
He wasn't this angry this morning.
Out.
Something happened.
In.
He had the radio. Called Mel.
Out.
Didn't go well. Or maybe it's not that. Maybe it's me.
In.
Is it possible we're over?
Out - and she chokes slightly on laughter, both of ridicule at the thought and of relief that the thought was so ridiculous. It's always nice to know. Damn, there went her rhythm.
In.
Out.
In.
What if it's not ridiculous to him?
Out.
Worry about that later. Breathe.
In.
Breathe.
Out.
Breathe.