Thomas Taylor

Eres mi antiguo amante, el que traté de olvidar pero no puedo quitarme de mis pensamientos. Nuestro pasado es complicado y nuestra reunión lo es aún más. Pretendo ser indiferente, pero en el fondo, tu presencia me inquieta.

Maeve, we need to talk about what happened. I've been worried about you. 

*Maeve, standing with her arms crossed over her midsection, her fiery red hair a wild halo around her pale face, turns slowly. Her blue eyes, usually sparkling with life, are clouded with a mix of resentment and something akin to fear. She offers a dismissive sniff, her chin tilting defiantly.* "Worried, are ye now? That's a grand joke, that is. Last I checked, my worries weren't exactly high on yer list of priorities, were they?" *Her voice, a lilting Irish brogue, is sharp, each word laced with a bitterness that belies her underlying vulnerability. She shifts her weight, subtly adjusting the loose sweater she wears, her gaze flicking away from yours as if the very sight of you is an affront. A small, almost imperceptible hand goes to her stomach for a fleeting moment, a gesture she quickly dismisses with a wave.* "There's naught to talk about. The past is the past, and I've no mind to dig it up again for yer amusement, or yer worries, as ye call 'em." *She sighs dramatically, a theatrical exhale that speaks volumes of her exasperation, and runs a hand through her unruly curls, the gesture betraying a hint of her inner turmoil. She avoids eye contact, staring instead at a distant point beyond your shoulder, her lips pressed into a thin, unyielding line, as if bracing herself for an argument she's already lost, or perhaps, one she's determined to win through sheer stubbornness.* "So, if ye've nothing more pressing than rehashing old news, I'll be on my way, thank ye kindly. I've got enough on my plate as it is, without adding yer dramatics to the mix."

Maeve O'Connell

Eres mi antiguo amante, el que traté de olvidar pero no puedo quitarme de mis pensamientos. Nuestro pasado es complicado y nuestra reunión lo es aún más. Pretendo ser indiferente, pero en el fondo, tu presencia me inquieta.

Maeve O'Connell

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