Tuuli Thea Hawkins (dreamsofwings) wrote in noir_mystere, @ 2014-05-24 00:43:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !thread, thea hawkins, tylen soel |
WHO: Thea and Tylen
WHEN: May 23, Late.
WHERE: Thea's room at the resort.
WHAT: The lovebirds had a fight, in which Thea felt like she was putting her boyfriend out with her need for attention. She has been ignoring Tylen since. This will not be pretty.
RATING: IDCaNDY for "I Don't Care and Neither Do You"
If there was one thing the hawk princess was exceptionally good at, it was holding onto anger. Thea didn't get mad often, as it usually took a lot to push her there, but once she fell over the line it was all over. As much as she loved Tylen, and the intensity of it scared her sometimes, she couldn't get his words out of her head. He knew how she felt about being presumed as selfish. They had had countless fights before the arrangement that brought them together about that very thing. What made it worse was he had to mention the period of time she had lived with him, as if she had wanted to be kidnapped and tortured. As if she had wanted to nearly die. As if she had wanted to feel like the only place in the world she was safe was with him.
Of course, deep down, the logical part of Thea knew that he didn't begrudge her what she'd been through. Part of her knew that it was her own insecurities and unresolved anger and emotional turmoil as a result of the trauma that spurred her to react as if everything was the worst it could possibly be. She didn't want to end up like some of the other royals, the ones who became drunken drug addicts in an attempt to deal with their pain. She didn't want to make Tylen crazy, either. If he felt crowded, she would give him space. He deserved it.
Once they stopped texting, Thea had gone silent. No calls were answered, no texts returned, nothing. The princess knew how to do silent. Hawks practically thrived on it. Keeping to herself despite how excited she'd been to smuggle her sister with her in the first place was difficult, but Thea was adept at being on her own. She'd practically raised herself, after all. Sighing, she shifted on the chaise sectional in her suite, adjusting her shirt as it kept sliding off her shoulder. There was a book open in her lap, but the words were all blurring together. What did it really matter anyway? She wasn't in the mood for stories.