[The scowl disappears in the span of a blink, replaced by wide eyes and an open mouth. Her grip shakes, loosens, yet holds, skin burning under his nails.]
I...I never...!
[But she had. Those exact words had been whispered into his ear all that time ago when she first saw his face and tried to destroy everything that he was. And Albedo's infuriating refusal to die had caused it.
No, that wasn't right; the mist caused it, and the creature that had straddled him and scavenged for his blood said all those things. With her voice. Having it all held against her now is a hard blow to take, especially when coupled with the look in his eyes, as if he's been thinking it all along, every time he's ever glanced at her and had those works echoing somewhere in the back of his mind.]
You know that wasn't me, how can you throw it back in my face? Of course I don't want anyone to kill you!
[She's told him before: I don't think you're a waste. But there's only so much she can deny. He is time eternal, and it is a bleak prospect. Max isn't so driven by bare hope that she can pretend it's a good thing. Even so...]
And you can't go looking for it, either. I don't care what you want. I'll chain you down somewhere before I let you go chasing down your own suicide!
[Not him, not Albedo, whose presence she's come to take for granted, whose voice and steps and breathing patterns she's become finely tuned into and can pick from a crowd with her eyes shut. He's unstable, unpredictable, dangerous, and hers; her friend, her companion, the one who has her back, who she knows, somewhere deep down, will be there in an instant if she needs him. His unwavering position at her side trumps even Fang's inconstant loyalty. Consciously she can never put these things into words. All she can do is strongarm and threaten and manhandle. Pleading and appealing are too far from her nature. So while she won't beg, she'll happily fight him on this decision.]
no subject
I...I never...!
[But she had. Those exact words had been whispered into his ear all that time ago when she first saw his face and tried to destroy everything that he was. And Albedo's infuriating refusal to die had caused it.
No, that wasn't right; the mist caused it, and the creature that had straddled him and scavenged for his blood said all those things. With her voice. Having it all held against her now is a hard blow to take, especially when coupled with the look in his eyes, as if he's been thinking it all along, every time he's ever glanced at her and had those works echoing somewhere in the back of his mind.]
You know that wasn't me, how can you throw it back in my face? Of course I don't want anyone to kill you!
[She's told him before: I don't think you're a waste. But there's only so much she can deny. He is time eternal, and it is a bleak prospect. Max isn't so driven by bare hope that she can pretend it's a good thing. Even so...]
And you can't go looking for it, either. I don't care what you want. I'll chain you down somewhere before I let you go chasing down your own suicide!
[Not him, not Albedo, whose presence she's come to take for granted, whose voice and steps and breathing patterns she's become finely tuned into and can pick from a crowd with her eyes shut. He's unstable, unpredictable, dangerous, and hers; her friend, her companion, the one who has her back, who she knows, somewhere deep down, will be there in an instant if she needs him. His unwavering position at her side trumps even Fang's inconstant loyalty. Consciously she can never put these things into words. All she can do is strongarm and threaten and manhandle. Pleading and appealing are too far from her nature. So while she won't beg, she'll happily fight him on this decision.]