[ the pain in her scalp draws a feral sound out of her throat. not a cry, not a shout. more akin to a growl.
she can see him clearly now, even through her matted hair. enough of it is shifted by the forced tip of her head — he hadn't needed to do that, had he? he could have just used his power, but no, he'd grabbed and yanked, and it's not hard to see why. the fury in the set of his teeth, the wildness of his eyes, the sweat and paleness of blood loss and injury.
for a moment, he does look almost beautiful, even with the strangeness of his kossian features.
it's gone in a blink. she shakes her head, but it doesn't do much except wiggle her chin and hurt her scalp more because the grip he has on her hair isn't loosening up. she notices the knife, then. the pressure, the chill of the steel against her skin.
there has to be something she can do, still. she isn't going to die like this, is she? but her limbs won't answer her and he is just furious enough to be made to feel, she realizes, that he just might not give her the chance for anything else. ]
You're going to bleed out. [ she tells him, teeth showing red with her own blood. ] Even you — [ she coughs ] — aren't eternal.
[ better than admitting that dream had said the same, better than fighting the idea that she's a coward and a liar. it's not her. it's just the bleedover from his mind. it has to be. what kind of monster would want something like him? what kind of pathetic creature would fail to take revenge on the man who'd slaughtered her people?
but she can hear him now, again, echoing in her thoughts: they threw you away like garbage. ]
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she can see him clearly now, even through her matted hair. enough of it is shifted by the forced tip of her head — he hadn't needed to do that, had he? he could have just used his power, but no, he'd grabbed and yanked, and it's not hard to see why. the fury in the set of his teeth, the wildness of his eyes, the sweat and paleness of blood loss and injury.
for a moment, he does look almost beautiful, even with the strangeness of his kossian features.
it's gone in a blink. she shakes her head, but it doesn't do much except wiggle her chin and hurt her scalp more because the grip he has on her hair isn't loosening up. she notices the knife, then. the pressure, the chill of the steel against her skin.
there has to be something she can do, still. she isn't going to die like this, is she? but her limbs won't answer her and he is just furious enough to be made to feel, she realizes, that he just might not give her the chance for anything else. ]
You're going to bleed out. [ she tells him, teeth showing red with her own blood. ] Even you — [ she coughs ] — aren't eternal.
[ better than admitting that dream had said the same, better than fighting the idea that she's a coward and a liar. it's not her. it's just the bleedover from his mind. it has to be. what kind of monster would want something like him? what kind of pathetic creature would fail to take revenge on the man who'd slaughtered her people?
but she can hear him now, again, echoing in her thoughts: they threw you away like garbage. ]