everything that could
@arcjintae
Ripples on the surface of the water gave away the unsteady hands that held the glass. Scared? Still. She blamed the quivering on her injuries. Her body ached, bruises blooming on her skin. Nothing life threatening or too serious, but she needed some time to heal, physically and mentally. She was still trying to process what happened, but a part of her didn’t want to, anything to not relive the mistakes she made. Yet, despite how much she tried to put it from her mind, every move of her limbs or attempted smile only reminded her.
They were still new to this, mistakes were to be expected, right? It’s not like she was an utter failure, except she was. It could have gone better, and it didn’t. It also could have gone a lot worse, and that’s what terrified her. She was comfortable here, it was home, it was all she had. She didn’t have to be well-acquainted with every single arcana here for them to matter. She knew their faces, become accustomed to the muttered hellos or nods of acknowledgment in the halls. They were familiar faces, and even if she was at odds with some, the prospect of not seeing them felt so much worse. She couldn’t look anyone in the eye though. It was embarrassing to say the least, and downright humiliating to be one of the ones who failed their mission. And she had the injuries to show for it.
It won’t happen again.
She already knew that failure meant extra training, and she was fine with that. Even if there wasn’t, she’d put herself through it anyways. This can’t happen again, she won’t let it happen again. She refused to be a burden on anyone, but she also knew that she still needed time to heal. As her feet took her to the training rooms she could hear the familiar voice inside. Not at all surprised to find him there, but certainly concerned. She opens the door, sighing a little to herself, ignoring the quivering in her hand as she raises her glass to drink from it.
The cool liquid stings a little against the sides of her lips, a sensation she hasn’t quite gotten the hang of, and her skin itches underneath the bandages. Still, she’s standing, and she waits for a few silent minutes. There is so little to say, and yet so much. They both knew what happened, and they were both painfully aware of what went wrong. It’s hard to look at him. If she wanted to see her mistakes laid bare before her, all she needed to see was this.
Her knees start to ache so she finds a spot in the corner to sit down, still sipping quietly at her water. As the silence ticks by, she’s at the end of her patience, and throws the liquid from her glass. It only takes moments for her to add to it’s volume, and a small flick of her wrist has it weakly shooting across the room, nothing more than a gentle splash against Jintae’s skin. It’s meant to be an annoyance, something to interrupt his training. And yet, while she has his attention, she’s hesitant to speak. Her gaze is focused on the floor, she can’t look him in the way, but she finally speaks, in a small voice.
“You should probably rest a little ...”
