As she settles, her eyes sweep over the intricacies of his sketch. Absorbing all that she can but it's never enough. Disappointment seeping in the form of stitched brow and narrowed eyes when the next page hides his work. Such is necessary, if he's to draw her. That, she can +
The lightness of her step was certainly to be commended.
Undoubtedly, her approach would have been just as undetectable to human ears as she imagined. But, of course, /he/ wasnโt human.
His own senses were quite sharp, and decades of necessity had made him rather adept at-
turn -- to better observe her features. Something that sounded more tolerable in theory than it does in execution. Expression becoming stoic, a natural shift for the muscles, she turns her head as guided. She tracks him from the corner of her eye, an attempt at watching both +
||Oh I so miscounted wait
WAIT
DAVID COME BACK HERE
it turns out I have 2 of the same thread bookmarked but not the one I thought I had which is so old by this point I don't think I could find it if I wanted to
Would she?
Prefer to stop?
That much is unclear to her. Amidst the obstacles of thought, she finds not an answer but further conflict of idea and emotion. A hurricane whose path cut straight through her sense of pride in such a simple success. In its wake, even the disdain +
There is an inexplicable gratification to be found in the act of teaching. As a field scientist, the opportunity to do so has never necessarily been out of reach. She has spoken at universities, shared her knowledge on broad scales, to hundreds of students, taken their questions+
she holds for the very woman from whom she hails falls; and in its place rises a suppressed want, a ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฅ. The need for Ellen to ๐ด๐ฉ๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ in her pride.
After all, what daughter doesn't wish for the approval of a mother?
+