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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷the wider city of boston
THEBLOOD-STAINED FINGERS OF A VISCERAL DREAD CLAW RAVENOUSLY AT CASSIE'S HEART. They had escaped the wraith of what should've been the worst of their journey, and — to her knowledge — mostly unscathed, yet the haunting sensation that horrors still lay ahead taunted her rapid mind. It was never that easy — even the most minute successes were to be extracted at a hefty cost. Anticipation slither's around Cassie's aching lungs like a snake, squeezing viscously at its prey until she's to collapse and be swallowed by her better instinct — a blossoming instinct of paranoia.
The dark hues of her guarded eyes found themselves set upon Tess, who had lurked ahead of her companions since they'd escaped the museum. Her every step was rushed — jittering with a panic Cassie had never before seen within the iron-willed smuggler. And, whilst Cassie may know very little about Tess despite their years spent in proximity of one another, she knew enough to grasp that there was something completely, and utterly, wrong.
A concern blossoming deep within herself, hidden beneath a shield of cation, Cassie's steps gain in pace until she's fallen in stride alongside the older woman. But, her presence appears to remain unnoticed — the ever-keen eye of Tess distracted by whatever wars wage within the confines of her mind. A gentleness dousing her actions, Cassie loves a hand upon the woman's shoulder — the woman, to Cassie's surprise, flinching at even the smallest of touch. "Tess– You alright?"
Tess' conflicted eyes shift upon the young woman, her distant gaze analysing every feature —searching for something. The vague beginnings of a lump forming within her hoarse throat, Tess offers a silent nod. A silence descends upon the unlikely pair, and, with reluctance, Cassie embraces the lack of conversation — realising that, if she were to do much as recurve a word from Tess, it'd have to be on the woman's own terms.
Precious minutes spent in the solitudes of silence pass them so easily by. The sands of time slip through Tess' fingers, and, with each grain escaping from her trembling grasp, her heart stutters — mourning something she would never get back. A breath hitching within her throat, she hastily casts a glance back, checking that both Joel and Ellie are still beyond earshot of them. And, at last, she dares to speak — uttering words that had haunted not just her mind. "Joel still talks about you, y'know that?"
Though but a simple sentence, it spikes Cassie's pulse; her heart thundering within the prison of her rib cage. Surprise scorches at the remnants of the child she was long ago — the naive child desperate to know he still cared. Her voice stumbling over itself, she questions, "He does?"
"Mostly when he's drunk, or high, but," Tess responds earnestly, "Yeah."
A thousand words dance upon the tip of Cassie's tongue, desperate to be uttered into existence. But, manufacturing the conflicted feelings within herself into something conceivable had always seemed to be a talent beyond her grasp, and so, she remains silent — desperate to cling to her facade of apathy. Tess, however — with knowledge of the relationship Cassie and Tess once held — sees right through her fractured portrayal. And, with the uncharacteristic genuinity within her tone never fading, she continues, "He regrets what he said."
