Nova was vaguely aware of the way Ixaaliot was trying to placate her, but she didn't want to be pacified. The smaller tentacles near her face curled upwards again.
She was still staring down at the offending obstacle when they were approached by the droid. As it went through the motions of advising her away from the windmill, the tentacles that had yet to coil flared outwards, before twisting together, rope-like, down her back. “We’re just looking,” Nova repeated. The words echoed in her ears as if they were being said by someone else. Her gaze traveled from the windmill to the droid before returning to the windmill.
Nova didn’t know why she was so disproportionately upset about the windmill. Perhaps, it was knowing that it was rigged, and having lost to it so many times. Perhaps it was the encounter she had had at the gym that morning with an over familiar stranger. It could have been an emotional cocktail full of worry caused by knowing that Kreska knew about her ship, or an anxiety over her inability to tell her boyfriend she loved him.
Everything, unfortunately, coalesced on this singular moment. The putter fell from her hands and landed noiselessly on the artificial green and Nova leaned forward and stopped the windmill again. This time with her hands. Gripping two of the blades, she pulled until she had separated the two pieces. She took a few steps backwards to accommodate for the sudden way the piece she held was freed with an unpleasant mechanical whine.
Something about holding a - now destroyed- windmill instantly dissipated her anger. It was almost cathartic to dismantle an object that had thwarted her for so long. She exhaled sharply through her nose.
“I would like to talk to someone about this.”
She was still staring down at the offending obstacle when they were approached by the droid. As it went through the motions of advising her away from the windmill, the tentacles that had yet to coil flared outwards, before twisting together, rope-like, down her back. “We’re just looking,” Nova repeated. The words echoed in her ears as if they were being said by someone else. Her gaze traveled from the windmill to the droid before returning to the windmill.
Nova didn’t know why she was so disproportionately upset about the windmill. Perhaps, it was knowing that it was rigged, and having lost to it so many times. Perhaps it was the encounter she had had at the gym that morning with an over familiar stranger. It could have been an emotional cocktail full of worry caused by knowing that Kreska knew about her ship, or an anxiety over her inability to tell her boyfriend she loved him.
Everything, unfortunately, coalesced on this singular moment. The putter fell from her hands and landed noiselessly on the artificial green and Nova leaned forward and stopped the windmill again. This time with her hands. Gripping two of the blades, she pulled until she had separated the two pieces. She took a few steps backwards to accommodate for the sudden way the piece she held was freed with an unpleasant mechanical whine.
Something about holding a - now destroyed- windmill instantly dissipated her anger. It was almost cathartic to dismantle an object that had thwarted her for so long. She exhaled sharply through her nose.
“I would like to talk to someone about this.”
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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