[ for a poisonous little plant, alina still finds herself fondly eyeing it — that small piece of greenery, real and living. the snow-soaked meadow in the sunlight room might be an illusion, but the bristly sprigs beneath her fingers aren't when she reaches up to tap it above yelena's head.
odd as the tradition is — embarrassing at best and tragically uncomfortable at worst when she considers being trapped beneath it with a stranger — it doesn't sound terrible. not with the right company, and not with the right intentions. it's only another experience to have, another adventure, when she had grown up experiencing such limited excitement. (something almost sweet, too, when it's shared with someone special.)
yelena's commentary makes her own opinion obvious, at least. alina chuffs out a fond laugh, fixing her with a dry look. wryly: ]
You must be a romantic at heart. I can barely control my urge to swoon.
[ no, the real romantic here is alina, but she pointedly fails to mention that as she nudges yelena with her elbow, once she's crossed the room toward the other woman. ]
mistletoe
odd as the tradition is — embarrassing at best and tragically uncomfortable at worst when she considers being trapped beneath it with a stranger — it doesn't sound terrible. not with the right company, and not with the right intentions. it's only another experience to have, another adventure, when she had grown up experiencing such limited excitement. (something almost sweet, too, when it's shared with someone special.)
yelena's commentary makes her own opinion obvious, at least. alina chuffs out a fond laugh, fixing her with a dry look. wryly: ]
You must be a romantic at heart. I can barely control my urge to swoon.
[ no, the real romantic here is alina, but she pointedly fails to mention that as she nudges yelena with her elbow, once she's crossed the room toward the other woman. ]
Do you hate it that much?