[ olivia sees them, counts each one that roll down and spill over spread skirts and clenched fists. she swallows thickly, feeling her own emotions pang at the sight of them, but with no word from the young girl, her powers neither falter nor rise, but instead maintain that steady pulse of suggestion.
she should stop, she thinks, for her point here has been made.
but another, quieter voice in the back of her mind proposes that maybe, just maybe, there is yet a different point to be made here. ]
no subject
she should stop, she thinks, for her point here has been made.
but another, quieter voice in the back of her mind proposes that maybe, just maybe, there is yet a different point to be made here. ]