[ It is a piece of her anger. She feels put upon by their ignorance, by how little they realize all that she does for them in the shadows, while they pressure her to confess and to conform. Some of that pressure is in her own mind, whether she realizes that or not has no real impact on her anger; one shard of glass entwined in witch knot of thorny spines and poison stems.
If they would not oppress her with their plaintive moralizing, she could be even more effective to their cause... As it is, she has sworn to herself to do nothing more of use until someone recognizes her contributions. Ren never had. She had longed for even the smallest of pleasures for all that she had accomplished at his side. Of course not. Of course not. Another shard of glass, bloody-tipped. ]
Damon Salvatore least of all. He came to me here, unbidden, with all his visions of monstrous years. I could not tell if he wished to threaten or entice me, and accomplished neither. He left here with my knife through his hand.
[ She lifts her own hand to rub her throat, that bruise gone too: where he had wrapped his hand around her neck. She did not wish to be touched she did not wish to be-- She tilts her neck open to the ghost of Aleksander's fingertip. He is what is left. She almost wishes he too was gone, the way she wishes that her friends and broodmates would not lie in indeterminable sleep. She wishes it was clean, simple. Rope cut. Nothing about the Station is simple, it breathes around her, remembering all of them like ghosts in its veins.
But here he is, after choosing not to drown.
She turns towards him, her eyes stark in her pale, tired face. ]
no subject
[ It is a piece of her anger. She feels put upon by their ignorance, by how little they realize all that she does for them in the shadows, while they pressure her to confess and to conform. Some of that pressure is in her own mind, whether she realizes that or not has no real impact on her anger; one shard of glass entwined in witch knot of thorny spines and poison stems.
If they would not oppress her with their plaintive moralizing, she could be even more effective to their cause... As it is, she has sworn to herself to do nothing more of use until someone recognizes her contributions. Ren never had. She had longed for even the smallest of pleasures for all that she had accomplished at his side. Of course not. Of course not. Another shard of glass, bloody-tipped. ]
Damon Salvatore least of all. He came to me here, unbidden, with all his visions of monstrous years. I could not tell if he wished to threaten or entice me, and accomplished neither. He left here with my knife through his hand.
[ She lifts her own hand to rub her throat, that bruise gone too: where he had wrapped his hand around her neck. She did not wish to be touched she did not wish to be-- She tilts her neck open to the ghost of Aleksander's fingertip. He is what is left. She almost wishes he too was gone, the way she wishes that her friends and broodmates would not lie in indeterminable sleep. She wishes it was clean, simple. Rope cut. Nothing about the Station is simple, it breathes around her, remembering all of them like ghosts in its veins.
But here he is, after choosing not to drown.
She turns towards him, her eyes stark in her pale, tired face. ]
What now?
[ Where do they go from here. ]