(no subject)
Molly had just wanted to stay in bed this morning. She wasn’t injured anymore (at least, not in body), but she still wanted the comfort and safety of her own room.
She had wanted Cain last night. Badly. Still wanted him. A knock on his door last night had proved fruitless, as (apparently) Angela's look around the bar. In the end, she had aksed Angela to leave him a note asking him to come when he received it.
He hadn’t come, and she’s spent a long, semi-sleepless night huddled beneath her blankets, feeling frightened and unhappy. She supposed that Cain had figured out his troubles with the door, and had gone wandering again…maybe to France or Italy, like she’d mentioned wanting to do.
He’d left no note. That hurt, even though she had no right to expect one from him. Just because she was in love with him, didn’t mean he loved her back, or owed her anything of the sort. He didn’t even have any idea how she really felt, and she wasn’t going to spoil things by telling him.
But she needed him.
In the end, she had forced herself out of her cocoon; afraid in a way she had never felt here before. She missed Cain still, cursing Bruce’s world, and telling herself that self-pity wasn’t going to help her, either way. She had chosen to go with Bruce, and had paid the price for not being as careful as she should.
She had work in the gardens that she could do. Work that she loved, and that soothed her.
She showered and dressed mechanically for the day ahead. She pulled her hair back with the scarf that Cain had bought her, and left her room with trepidation, mentally repeating the mantra: no one will hurt you here, nothing will hurt you here, there is magic here.
She had wanted Cain last night. Badly. Still wanted him. A knock on his door last night had proved fruitless, as (apparently) Angela's look around the bar. In the end, she had aksed Angela to leave him a note asking him to come when he received it.
He hadn’t come, and she’s spent a long, semi-sleepless night huddled beneath her blankets, feeling frightened and unhappy. She supposed that Cain had figured out his troubles with the door, and had gone wandering again…maybe to France or Italy, like she’d mentioned wanting to do.
He’d left no note. That hurt, even though she had no right to expect one from him. Just because she was in love with him, didn’t mean he loved her back, or owed her anything of the sort. He didn’t even have any idea how she really felt, and she wasn’t going to spoil things by telling him.
But she needed him.
In the end, she had forced herself out of her cocoon; afraid in a way she had never felt here before. She missed Cain still, cursing Bruce’s world, and telling herself that self-pity wasn’t going to help her, either way. She had chosen to go with Bruce, and had paid the price for not being as careful as she should.
She had work in the gardens that she could do. Work that she loved, and that soothed her.
She showered and dressed mechanically for the day ahead. She pulled her hair back with the scarf that Cain had bought her, and left her room with trepidation, mentally repeating the mantra: no one will hurt you here, nothing will hurt you here, there is magic here.