[ Jinx has never been one to care much about an audience. gaining notoriety had been half the fun, after all - she left her custom calling card in the form of colorful neon graffiti everywhere she went for a reason. she isn't hiding. she isn't pretending to be who she's not anymore.
she isn't pretending now, either.
that low-burning simmer has already begun smoldering in earnest. whatever embers had caught alight were rapidly evolving into fire - the kind that consumes all the air in the room, that spreads like a flash. Jinx doesn't really do anything half-way; it's all or nothing. this is no exception.
she's trembling. it isn't fear - it isn't even grief. (that will come later.) it's a complete and utter disbelief, that incredulity (hurt, betrayal, pain) morphing into rage. her hand coils at her side, and maybe the force of her unsteady, rapidly unraveling composure can be felt through the air like an electrical charge. she isn't worried about Vander. she isn't worried about gawking onlookers hushed and murmuring among one another about the Bearers in their midst causing a scene.
if she was armed--
if she was armed, the blood lust she feels right now would've resulted in the instant spill of blood across the cobblestones - the kind that's much harder to disregard than the marks on his arms. the marks Silco left, fighting for his life. --there's a twitch, a crack - a break,
and Jinx is slowly drawing closer, prepared to take the Shard - to take things from Vander, to--
she knew it. she knew it. it was too good to be true; Silco was right. he's ALWAYS been right. they would betray her, betray them - Vi, and the Enforcer, and Vander, they're all... ]
Traitor.
[ Jinx is unclasping a pouch at her side, pulling out something vaguely familiar to Vander - sure, she had her gadgets and tinkered in her youth, but nothing ever really worked out the way it was supposed to.
what looks like some sort of explosive in her hand-painted with streaks of neon green to make a face across its side is being unpinned, a rapid ticking beginning to fill the air between them. ]
no subject
she isn't pretending now, either.
that low-burning simmer has already begun smoldering in earnest. whatever embers had caught alight were rapidly evolving into fire - the kind that consumes all the air in the room, that spreads like a flash. Jinx doesn't really do anything half-way; it's all or nothing. this is no exception.
she's trembling. it isn't fear - it isn't even grief. (that will come later.) it's a complete and utter disbelief, that incredulity (hurt, betrayal, pain) morphing into rage. her hand coils at her side, and maybe the force of her unsteady, rapidly unraveling composure can be felt through the air like an electrical charge. she isn't worried about Vander. she isn't worried about gawking onlookers hushed and murmuring among one another about the Bearers in their midst causing a scene.
if she was armed--
if she was armed, the blood lust she feels right now would've resulted in the instant spill of blood across the cobblestones - the kind that's much harder to disregard than the marks on his arms. the marks Silco left, fighting for his life. --there's a twitch, a crack - a break,
and Jinx is slowly drawing closer, prepared to take the Shard - to take things from Vander, to--
she knew it. she knew it. it was too good to be true; Silco was right. he's ALWAYS been right. they would betray her, betray them - Vi, and the Enforcer, and Vander, they're all... ]
Traitor.
[ Jinx is unclasping a pouch at her side, pulling out something vaguely familiar to Vander - sure, she had her gadgets and tinkered in her youth, but nothing ever really worked out the way it was supposed to.
what looks like some sort of explosive in her hand-painted with streaks of neon green to make a face across its side is being unpinned, a rapid ticking beginning to fill the air between them. ]