[hr][hr][img]https://i.postimg.cc/65z3m7BP/Anissa-Quinn.gif[/img][hr][hr]
[indent]Anissa didn’t look up at first when Heath spoke, especially upon registering what he was trying to do for her: check on her, comfort her. Yet, she didn’t want to see pity or anything close to it. After all, the last time she’d tried to explain herself and own up for her actions, it only made things worse. 

Which was why her initial response came out harsher than it probably needed to.

“[color=#5a3e85]You don’t have to be nice to me, you know.[/color]”

The words came out before she could stop them, more of a reflex than an actual, well-thought-out decision. But the second they were out, she felt sick, immediately wanting to take them back. She sounded like him. Not in tone, not in presence, but in that same bitter reflex to push someone away before they could do it first. It was something Anatoliy might’ve said and [i]had[/i] said, and she didn’t want to be like that. 

Anissa knew kindness wasn’t her default setting. She never pretended it was. But cruelty? That wasn’t her either. The thought that stress and wounded pride were twisting her into a cheap imitation of Anatoliy’s worst traits made her skin crawl. She hated feeling like a puppet, reciting lines from a play she never wanted any part in, simply because she didn’t know how to gracefully admit she’d been shaken. Even if only a little. 

So, after a short, strained pause, she exhaled and forced her gaze upward, coming face to face with a boy who stood there like an illustration from a storybook prince:  tall, sunlight-gold hair, and eyes the startling blue of a clear summer sky. His calm demeanour radiated the kind of peace that suggested a life sheltered from the desperate struggles she knew too well. He looked like someone whose godly parent, like River’s, wasn’t just a myth, but a tangible, perhaps even [i]present[/i], part of his reality. 

Or at the very least, someone who acknowledged his existence. 

“[color=#5a3e85]…Sorry,[/color]” Anissa finally muttered. “[color=#5a3e85]That wasn’t fair. I didn’t mean that. I just…[/color]”

She stopped herself again. The apology was real, but explaining the why of it felt like peeling off a scab that hadn’t finished forming.

“[color=#5a3e85]I’m fine,[/color]” she stated instead, trying to reset the conversation. “[color=#5a3e85]Just needed a minute after whatever that was, that’s all.[/color]”

Her focus abruptly shifted back to the guitar resting against the tree trunk, a much safer subject than her emotions. 

“[color=#5a3e85]Do you… by any chance know the guy who left this? Anatoliy?[/color]” Anissa asked, motioning toward the instrument. “[color=#5a3e85]I just don’t want to leave this here.[/color]” Yet, she knew she also couldn’t be the one to return it either, considering how [i]well[/i] things had gone for her with her attempt at being thoughtful. 
[/indent][hr] 
Location: Outskirts of the field/party  
Interactions: Heath ([@Pristine1281])
Mentions: Anatoliy, River