Re: Gatsby: Wren/Loki
She looked around, and she listened to the sounds from the trees, from beyond the safety of the lights. They weren't alone, not really, and help was only a scream away, and she thought Luke would be pleased that she was taking precautions. She turned to look at him when he spoke, arm still twined with his. "No. He doesn't know," she said, and she sat on the step in a swirl of florals and the scent of verbena. She looked up at his cultured features, red and green, and she thought him handsome in a way that was appropriate for this time, when the men were prettier than the women, their hair slicked back and their suits pristine in a way the women's clothing, proclaiming a newfound independence, was not.
She didn't correct him when he assumed Luke was her intended. There was no ring on her finger, and the absence of it during every shift at the theater had long-since soothed the line the band and diamond left behind with continual wear.
"I won't tell him. He'd just be angry with me," she said, and her words were simple, just as she was simple. Pallid honesty, and she'd never had the sense to tell anyone no.
Did she trust herself? She cocked her head to the side, a pale little bird with yellow feathers. "I trust that I want to do this," she said. "I trust that I can." There was strength there, in the last sentence. For herself, she wouldn't have had faith that she could accomplish anything at all. But this wasn't for her, and therein hid her strength.