Old Roots

Bowen slipped into the room while he was putting the Lavender back, the calmness that had taken over his actions once he'd been sure he was alone and would not be disturbed meant he'd let his guard down, he had let the sounds outside be just that, sounds beyond what he'd thought was a closed door. But he'd been wrong, a familiar voice, one that set his mind shooting straight through the stages of panic right into full-on fight or flight. He grew rigid, only the fact the pot was still teetering just on the edge of the windowsill keeping him from freezing completely. He made sure the plant was safely balanced on the stone, his chest already rising and falling rapidly though not yet full-on hyperventilation, the puckered skin around his eye aching. Emile closed his eyes, willed himself to have been wrong, to have just been jumping at shadows. Bowen would not come to his room, she would not, not after what he'd done. She must have just been passing by outside... Slowly, he lowered himself and turned...

And his hope was wrong. There, cowering in front of the door was Bowen... Instantly he backed up, rump slamming into the wall behind him just under the sill, his tail tucking, ears pulling back and his head ducking to hide his scar, to hide his shame. He cast his eyes away. He felt massive. The few enough times he and the young woman had shared a space since their encounter Emile had gone out of his way to put as much distance between himself and her that he could. He felt massive around her like he would move and he'd break her, he'd step on her, like everything around him was made of china and he was the proverbial bull. But this? This was the biggest he'd ever felt, like the room's walls and roof were pressing in on him and if he so much as breathed he'd shatter the whole room, entomb them both in stone. Her voice had reached him but the panic had been near-instant, her apology was lost on him, and even if he'd had been of the mind to register it, he'd never have gleamed its meaning. His mind could not grasp the way she held herself, the fact that she was very clearly herself not in a good way. All he could think of was how to avoid hurting her, an impossible task when you felt like a giant. "I'mmmmmm s-s-s-s-sorrrrrry." He barely managed to squeak out, whatever he'd done, whatever had made her come here to face him, he regretted it. It had been his intention since that day to never give her a reason to see him again, so the fact he was here was probably his fault too. Because he was selfish, because he was an idiot, because he wasn't worth anything, so this too must be his fault.


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