[ There's nothing triumphant in Klaasje's relief. It radiates through her like a fresh bruise blooming under skin, tender and sore.
It's an accord too tentative to break with more words. She trails after Ruby with the vivacity of a half-deflated balloon, uncharacteristically turned in on herself. She has a lot to think about, and she has very little time.
At Ruby's room, she filters in behind her, hands folded in front of her waist, and takes up a spot in the cell almost equidistant from every other thing in it. She draws herself up, pageant poise perfect, and watches Ruby for what she'll do next. ]
no subject
It's an accord too tentative to break with more words. She trails after Ruby with the vivacity of a half-deflated balloon, uncharacteristically turned in on herself. She has a lot to think about, and she has very little time.
At Ruby's room, she filters in behind her, hands folded in front of her waist, and takes up a spot in the cell almost equidistant from every other thing in it. She draws herself up, pageant poise perfect, and watches Ruby for what she'll do next. ]