“ you’re so clumsy…come here. ”
protective sentence starters ;; accepting
“ s-sorry, i-- i didn’t mean to ... sor-sorry. “ she’s panicking a little until beth’s calm voice reaches her, lip quivering as she stares down at her bleeding hand. it isn’t the hand that’s making her almost cry, or the fact that she’s covered in her dinner now, shards from the plate collected in her injured hand like she could put them back together. it’s the reaction she was expecting -- and didn’t get.
seeming to accept her fate, and looking more skittish than anything, the girl timidly walks over to her mother. morticia almost didn’t register the shards still clutched in her hand, or how they only bring more red pooling down her wrist and dripping onto the floor. more mess from the clutzy ditz that beth decided to bring into her family for some reason.
“ i ... u-um ... “ morticia doesn’t say anything else, eyes wide and scared as she looks up at the woman. expecting punishment of some sort, terrified to make whatever happened worse.
