She blinks down at the slippers in momentary bewilderment, but it's clear enough what she's meant to do, even if the point eludes her. Being in Darrow has been something of a crash course in following others' leads, whether you understand the underlying reasoning or not. So she nudges into the slippers without comment, then shuffles over to sit at the table.
The ostensible assurance that she doesn't have to account for her behavior glances off her without leaving an impression. Yes, she does. She can't act like this without offering some sort of explanation, and she's a miserable liar. The offer of advice is kind, but she doubts it will come to much; this isn't a problem to be solved or a puzzle to navigate -- or a Curse to break. It just is.
It's the last bit that strikes home, and Greta winces. "No, no, it's not--he told me, but only because I asked." She buries her face in her hands for a moment, then puffs out a breath that might have passed for a laugh, if there was any humor in it. "There are people here who know my story. All of it." Right up to the very end.
no subject
The ostensible assurance that she doesn't have to account for her behavior glances off her without leaving an impression. Yes, she does. She can't act like this without offering some sort of explanation, and she's a miserable liar. The offer of advice is kind, but she doubts it will come to much; this isn't a problem to be solved or a puzzle to navigate -- or a Curse to break. It just is.
It's the last bit that strikes home, and Greta winces. "No, no, it's not--he told me, but only because I asked." She buries her face in her hands for a moment, then puffs out a breath that might have passed for a laugh, if there was any humor in it. "There are people here who know my story. All of it." Right up to the very end.