The thought train caused moisture to gather and threaten on her lower eyelashes and she heaved in a shaky breath and looked desperately at the door. She hadn't cried for years, and she certainly hadn't cried in front of anyone else since she was a young girl. If she was going to, the last thing she wanted was for him to see it. Her lips twisted and she stalked towards it, opening herself to the bright sunshine of the Rivani midday. She took half a dozen steps out. She felt like she wanted to scream, but when she opened her lips all that came out was a sort of strangled sound. She didn't slam the door; she just became hyper aware of her eyes, her lips, her ragged breathing, the heavy line of tears that she fought like her life depended on it.
Strange, random thoughts trailed through her head while she tried to control herself. The fact that he actually was a mage explained a lot - she couldn't even remember what it was supposed to explain, but it fell like a large puzzle piece snapping into place in the mystery that had been Thren. Whether or not he was an apostate, he couldn't possibly know how much trust and faith it had taken for her to let him in as she had. And she'd done it impulsively, stupidly, without thinking. This is what happens when you care. This is what happens when you let people get close. She sobbed, just once, and one tear escaped that she wiped at furiously with a sleeve.
"Vi." His voice was completely plaintive, desperate to ask her not to walk away, but she'd already shut the door. His chest felt ripped, cleaved into two pieces. He was falling apart and couldn't think.
The pointing had torn at him, destroying the very last shreds of stability. He was adrift, pulled both between his ugly past and the darkening present. It was too similar to his mother, down to the stretching finger, the betrayed, horrified expression. Thren stood, shakingly grabbing his shirt from the floor, tugging it over his head. He was unsure whether or not sure should follow, unwilling to drag the argument out into the street.
She'd said once that they were more liberal about hedge mages here, if she screamed, would someone even care? He tugged nervously at the hem, before placing his hand on the door. How much space should he give her? Was this just too far gone?
Tears, fucking tears were threatening, and he resolved himself to at least try. The sun did sting, and even the water had no calming affect on him. He stood in the doorway for a moment, unsure what to say in the wake of her sob.
A few more fat tears had fallen in the interim - the sun dried them as soon as they fell, but Viara felt like their tracks were burned into her features and anyone who looked at her would see them like badges of shame and pain. She blamed him outwardly and herself inwardly - she had no one to blame but herself for her pain. It had to be her fault. For letting him in her so deeply. Two knives to the heart in one lifetime felt like more than she could bear. Her hands threaded back loosely through her hair and she took a few shaky breaths, trying to get herself steady. She didn't know if she wanted to go back or forward, and she teetered there in place, on the edge of stay and go. She became peripherally aware of the fact that Thren had opened the door and she looked over her shoulder at him. He looked...guilty, and desperate, and broken. His posture was slumped and his eyes were plaintive, and they ripped at the heart that she was sure was just a hole now.