" how long have you been sick for? and don't lie. "
Fighting against the chills that played her vertebrae like a xylophone, Octavia avoided her mother's gaze. If she didn't look her in the eyes, the young avian could pretend she could fade into the ether, but always watching, waiting for a moment to strike and scrutinize. Octavia knew the fight was in vain. Nothing gets past Stella; try as she may, it is futile to dare insult her intelligence. Octavia knew, and yet she still attempted to pretend. β I'm fine, Mother. β Spoken like a girl who was afraid of failure, the need to seek approval that was still so far but within reach all the same.
Try as she may, swallowing back the coughs that tickled her throat, it found its way out. Using her elbow and with a slight twist of her body, turned away to cough, throat raw and sore from failed attempts to swallow them back. It was rare for Octavia to become sick, but she tried not to let it get in the way of her studies and become an inconvenience. β It's just a cough, that's all. β Nevermind the chill in her bones, feathers puffing just slightly as if to conserve what little heat she had left. So obvious were the attempts to hide the sunken look in her eyes, the hoarseness in her voice when speaking, and the paleness that overtook a formally lively face and yet, Octavia was unwilling to admit to being anything other than okay. Never in front of her mother.