Lessons never end

Walk | Talk | Think

He hardly spoke after he described the details of the thistle plant, recalling what was necessary in order for her to learn and then clamming right up. It was honestly no better on Callisto's end - the whole situation was awkward enough on its own but her season made it worse. It interfered with her mood, adding an uncharacteristic patience, and caused Maximous's reaction to her to be strained and seemingly painful. We should have done this after, she thought, supposing that it would have made the whole interaction easier, but she knew Max would not have waited. These plants were important to her, he had said as much himself. Getting them to her was more important than his own discomfort.

The reassurances he tried to provide went unanswered, though she wanted them to be right. She was stubborn, determined, and would have continued looking for the plants herself until she found them had they not been brought to her. Still she marveled over the dumb luck that had brought them to her this season, eyeing the plants before her with a tilt to her head. At least from then on out, for all the seasons that awaited in her future, she would be ready.

She noticed that his eyes rarely shifted her way as they conversed, seemingly determined to forget she was even there across from him. Was that easier, she wondered, or more tolerable? It irked her that her season could be so disruptive, could hinder the progress they were attempting to make, though not nearly so much as his question laced with sincere curiosity did. Why? Her brow knit, her expression darkening as her eerie calm churned toward irritation. "Why not?" she challenged back, feeling irrationally defensive, "Isn't that what others do?" Not that she had ever followed typical protocols when it came to relationships of any kind, but she was trying, in her own way, to make things right. Only now it felt like she had somehow messed it up, done it wrong, made it worse.

What had changed? Why did she legitimately try to make an effort now, to do things by the book rather than live by her own cold, selfish code? She had no ready answer to give, could not put into words what had compelled her to speak those words that had never come easily to her - and still did not. Her jaw tight, Callisto dropped her frosty blue gaze and breathed, almost a sigh, through her nose. How the hell did everyone do this sort of thing?