3:01 AM
[Men had always been a source of discomfort. Starting with her unfortunate demise at Neoptolemus' blade. Polyxena had not been afraid then, nor now, but the discomfort was always there. Any advances made unsettled her- her own brother's wooing had her freezing in her spot whenever he was a little too much. It had been better when she'd known nothing, Polyxena had been able to trust him implicitly then, instead she pulled back (a bridge that perhaps would never mend). Yet she found herself resenting his intentions to move on; it was not that she didn't want him to be happy- she did. However... she felt a weird gaping hole now. Inadequate and unable to live up to Troilus' expectations.
and yet
Polyxena didn't know, she didn't feel comfortable in her own skin, she felt wary of Arthur's invitation, of Troilus' intentions to move on.
It was simple and not, she wasn't ready.]
and yet
Polyxena didn't know, she didn't feel comfortable in her own skin, she felt wary of Arthur's invitation, of Troilus' intentions to move on.
It was simple and not, she wasn't ready.]