She had shoved the ragged wand box under and behind the stack of her favorite books on her desk, but the corner of her unwanted weekend delivery was jutting out just enough that it could still be seen if one looked hard enough. Which she did, so Saoirse had, yet again, taken to fixedly staring her package, wrestling with what, if anything, to do concerning its disturbing appearance. Would it be better or worse to give her broken wand the attention it undoubtably deserved? Give into the simmering terror it had immediately created within her, or continue to push any emotion concerning it down because she would not let anyone have that kind of power over her? It was even difficult to decide if she should contact Thomas, for that sprouted a whole new slew of issues her mind felt haggard at the thought of dealing with.
Howell shuffling into her bedroom broke Saoirse from her tangled thoughts, though only temporarily. She turned to look at him blankly, unable to truly take in what he was doing or saying, as her thoughts had become all consuming. Howell would... she would want him to tell her if something like this was happening to him, and she wanted to tell him... but, she didn't want to burden him, or anyone else for that matter, as he had just begun to feel better, and with his birthday on Thursday... that sounded silly. Those excuses were trite and downright thoughtless, and she knew she couldn't hold to them, but everything would be at lot easier if she could. She had to tell him, she must tell him; she could not hide behind trying to make this development insignificant, because it was not.
Taking in a shuddering breath, her gaze raked back across the room. Unaware to Howell other than that he was present in the room, Saoirse quietly slipped over to her desk. She pulled her lips back, then quickly reached to slip the box out of its hiding place.
"Howell," Saoirse started softly, now clutching the parcel in her hand tightly. She turned finally to look at him, seemingly much more aware of him, and their surroundings. "I'm going to tell you something, but I don't want you to get upset over it."
Howell shuffling into her bedroom broke Saoirse from her tangled thoughts, though only temporarily. She turned to look at him blankly, unable to truly take in what he was doing or saying, as her thoughts had become all consuming. Howell would... she would want him to tell her if something like this was happening to him, and she wanted to tell him... but, she didn't want to burden him, or anyone else for that matter, as he had just begun to feel better, and with his birthday on Thursday... that sounded silly. Those excuses were trite and downright thoughtless, and she knew she couldn't hold to them, but everything would be at lot easier if she could. She had to tell him, she must tell him; she could not hide behind trying to make this development insignificant, because it was not.
Taking in a shuddering breath, her gaze raked back across the room. Unaware to Howell other than that he was present in the room, Saoirse quietly slipped over to her desk. She pulled her lips back, then quickly reached to slip the box out of its hiding place.
"Howell," Saoirse started softly, now clutching the parcel in her hand tightly. She turned finally to look at him, seemingly much more aware of him, and their surroundings. "I'm going to tell you something, but I don't want you to get upset over it."
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