sacchariines:
maisie’s head was practically buried inside her bag she came to a stop outside of the tattered cover. had she realized where she’d stopped, she likely would’ve moved on, out of respect. “oh, i’m sorry,” she looked up, an ink pen held between her teeth. “i was just moving out of the way-” she abruptly trailed off as she realized that tempest more than likely didn’t care. “i’m sorry,” she ultimately repeated.
the voice that appears from behind is not a familiar one, and that's equal parts a burden and a relief. tempest glances over their shoulder, offering a soft smile that doesn't meet their eyes. “ you're fine. can i help? ” they gesture to the backpack gathered in maisie's hands, offer mostly made out of instinctual politeness & regretted the moment it turns into sounds in the air between them. there's a feeble hope that maisie will just say no, will just walk away.
it's in maisie's nature to be sympathetic - and almost immediately a million questions begin to form in her mind. but she doesn't dare ask them, it would be too intrusive. instead she offers a small smile, "oh no, i'm just looking for something," she explained, "if you don't mind me standing here until i find it," she looked up momentarily.

















