w/ @seraphiia !

        SIP. CLINK. SIGH. STARE.

       The afternoon air is steeped deeply in the flowery perfume of strong teas, but also the thick tension of Veronica's social inadequacy. Though she had purposefully invited Celica to tea this time, the burgeoning silence that stayed them, then, still wedges itself between them now. How terrible. She thought she had resolved this trifle? Regardless, for reasons she can’t name, the little one finds she can only sit there, her legs tightly folded one over the other as she fiddles with the chipped handle of her teacup.

       Instincts tell her to abandon the outing entirely. To leave the Zofian in the shade of this gazebo because surely the monastery's garden would prove better company than Veronica could ever be; surely her attempts at amicability would prove worthless.

       SIP. CLINK. SIGH. STARE.

       But she knows her pursuit of friendship is an important one, no matter how much she resists it. And that pursuit of Celica’s friendship, particularly, would be to her benefit (and, though she would never admit it, to her personal liking). This social conquest of hers is a prerequisite for any good ruler. And so, she remains fastened onto her chair, a hand gripping the intricate iron armrest tightly— as though her body would get up and walk away had she not forced it to stay there.

       She clears her throat.