She pushed slowly from the wall, jaw tight and fists clenched, and while it should have been the first step out the door and far away Max stood her ground. It was their home, temporary and lacking extravagance as it was, and she'd made a promise several times over. Albedo could push if he wanted. Words alone were not yet enough to send her fleeing for the hills, despite instinct, even with the sensation of being picked apart and measured by some unfathomable entity that looked at her through him now.
Was that the thing that had touched him, and was there even a distinction between the two? The way he looked at her certainly wasn't familiar, and it was at that point she realized that maybe she'd been wrong. Thus far Max assumed she'd taken him in and nurtured him with time, attention, affection; everything that had eventually come naturally in responding to his companionship. And in turn, had his inclination been to wrap her in his possession and construct walls around them, to fend off all others and guard against some pain he already knew? She felt then that he would shut the box around them if she were passive enough to allow it.
If there were one flaw Max did not have, though, it was passivity. Body language invited confrontation, sensible or destructive. There was no running, only pushing back.
"No one takes or gives me away, I decide where I go!" she snarled. "And can we please get off the killing kick? You can't just do in anyone who glances at us the wrong way, we'll have a pile of stiffs at the door in no time."
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She pushed slowly from the wall, jaw tight and fists clenched, and while it should have been the first step out the door and far away Max stood her ground. It was their home, temporary and lacking extravagance as it was, and she'd made a promise several times over. Albedo could push if he wanted. Words alone were not yet enough to send her fleeing for the hills, despite instinct, even with the sensation of being picked apart and measured by some unfathomable entity that looked at her through him now.
Was that the thing that had touched him, and was there even a distinction between the two? The way he looked at her certainly wasn't familiar, and it was at that point she realized that maybe she'd been wrong. Thus far Max assumed she'd taken him in and nurtured him with time, attention, affection; everything that had eventually come naturally in responding to his companionship. And in turn, had his inclination been to wrap her in his possession and construct walls around them, to fend off all others and guard against some pain he already knew? She felt then that he would shut the box around them if she were passive enough to allow it.
If there were one flaw Max did not have, though, it was passivity. Body language invited confrontation, sensible or destructive. There was no running, only pushing back.
"No one takes or gives me away, I decide where I go!" she snarled. "And can we please get off the killing kick? You can't just do in anyone who glances at us the wrong way, we'll have a pile of stiffs at the door in no time."