#* roman

Everything about this place was stifling. The grandeur not something that Maggie could truly see as anything but hollow, an empty promise of peace that would only ever exist on the edge of a knife in a place like this. Between the chill that touched her spine, and the heat of each look that accosted her with thoughts of who she was - what she’d done, Maggie yearned to smell the earth again. It took a while, but once she’d made her way through the crowds and met the open air, she felt the weight on her shoulders lift. A few more people cast themselves across the patio, an arrangement that reminded her of constellations as such, though she found herself drawn to only one. Perched on the steps below, Maggie would recognize such an aura anywhere. Kicking off her heels as she found a place only a short distance away, she curled her toes in the grass and sat on the lowest step. Sheepishly, she offers him a smile, and soon casts eyes elsewhere - her aversion to eye contact still far too prevalent, “So, did they confiscate all the plaid and denim at the gate or are you about to tell me that you’ve kept that locked up in that lighthouse of yours all this time?”