Ivan
Nefera gets that far-off look she gets when a memory hijacks her thoughts. She sits back down, tucking her knees to her chest as whatever I've triggered plays itself out in her mind.
It was what I hoped would happen, but still, I don't feel good about it.
Grabbing my shirt, I sit beside her, pulling her into my lap, taking the opportunity to check her nose. I didn't mean to strike her like that, but I'm relieved when I realize I didn't break it. I just busted it a little.
The last thing I wanted was to hurt my mate, but I'm not a therapist and don't pretend to be. So the only thing I know how to do when it comes to bottled-up emotions is run from them or fight.
Since running hadn't served either of us well, I figured I'd try the fight.
