[ She has long lost the ability to worry — or, more accurately, she tries her best to cast the sinking feeling away every time it returns. It's unproductive. The more she can do as a ranger, the better their chances of survival ( of a comfortable life, a life on the surface, maybe, one day ) gets. Which means there's no time to waste on hoping that the people she cares for are safe; she just needs to trust that they will be, because there's nothing else she can do.
But still — the knots in her stomach loosen at the sight of familiar faces, no matter how long it's been. It'll be this way for a while longer, along with the occasional, idle thought that worms into her brain. This much, she can live with.
A hand reaches, instinctively, to rest on top of his. Gives it a gentle squeeze, a silent acknowledgement of everything else she won't voice, while she lets out a small huff of exasperated laughter. ] I'm thrilled. [ No she's not.
And because she's not— ] You, on the other hand, seem rather excited to be back. Was your mission cut short?
no subject
But still — the knots in her stomach loosen at the sight of familiar faces, no matter how long it's been. It'll be this way for a while longer, along with the occasional, idle thought that worms into her brain. This much, she can live with.
A hand reaches, instinctively, to rest on top of his. Gives it a gentle squeeze, a silent acknowledgement of everything else she won't voice, while she lets out a small huff of exasperated laughter. ] I'm thrilled. [ No she's not.
And because she's not— ] You, on the other hand, seem rather excited to be back. Was your mission cut short?