[ Jinx isn't sad very often. the moment it starts, she tends to do this totally healthy thing where she buries it in fear which inevitably turns to anger, and then sometimes mania, and then--
people get hurt, because hurting other people is easier than feeling hurt yourself. it feels good; it feels right. it is right.
strangely enough, despite that unwelcome feeling of sadness, now - she doesn't feel like hurting Vander. that impulse is there, of course - pushing him away and not dealing with this would be a lot easier than the alternatives, but... that little part of her that still belongs to a girl whose name isn't Jinx ached and longed for this. for someone to come back and tell her it was going to be okay. that she isn't alone.
(Silco, was... he had been--)
Vander sinks down to knee - God, he's so tall, even if he's somehow shrunk from how she remembered (she's grown; he hasn't) - and the touch of his hand on her shoulder almost reduces her to painfully vulnerable tears. much as that little part of her wants to reach out and cling like a child and let Vander fill her head with sweet, placating lies, the other part - the part that's grown stronger over the years - resists. ]
You don't understand. [ she insists, but it isn't firm as much as desperate. ] You weren't supposed to--
[ he was gone, and Silco had told her - told her again and again and again - that Vander hadn't been the man she thought him to be. that he was a traitor, a betrayer, an enemy. he was never going to be back in her life for her to ever truly find out who he was or had been.
how is it this is happening right now?
how are the dead given new life? how is he looking at her like that? it doesn't make sense. it doesn't make sense, and she is terrified of him looking back at her and seeing someone other than the little girl he'd left behind and--
and what comes next can only go one way, right?
get rid of him before he can get rid of you, that voice at her shoulder whispers. whispers about how she killed him, how he's playing nice to gain her trust so he can do what people always do. (--wrong. that's wrong. look at him; his eyes are so stupidly kind and it doesn't feel fake. Vander doesn't feel fake.)
...she's at a loss, the internal tug-of-war leaving her visibly struggling and unfocused, distracted as she looks into his face. what does she do?
what should she do?
what does she even want from him? she doesn't know. ]
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people get hurt, because hurting other people is easier than feeling hurt yourself. it feels good; it feels right. it is right.
strangely enough, despite that unwelcome feeling of sadness, now - she doesn't feel like hurting Vander. that impulse is there, of course - pushing him away and not dealing with this would be a lot easier than the alternatives, but... that little part of her that still belongs to a girl whose name isn't Jinx ached and longed for this. for someone to come back and tell her it was going to be okay. that she isn't alone.
(Silco, was... he had been--)
Vander sinks down to knee - God, he's so tall, even if he's somehow shrunk from how she remembered (she's grown; he hasn't) - and the touch of his hand on her shoulder almost reduces her to painfully vulnerable tears. much as that little part of her wants to reach out and cling like a child and let Vander fill her head with sweet, placating lies, the other part - the part that's grown stronger over the years - resists. ]
You don't understand. [ she insists, but it isn't firm as much as desperate. ] You weren't supposed to--
[ he was gone, and Silco had told her - told her again and again and again - that Vander hadn't been the man she thought him to be. that he was a traitor, a betrayer, an enemy. he was never going to be back in her life for her to ever truly find out who he was or had been.
how is it this is happening right now?
how are the dead given new life? how is he looking at her like that? it doesn't make sense. it doesn't make sense, and she is terrified of him looking back at her and seeing someone other than the little girl he'd left behind and--
and what comes next can only go one way, right?
get rid of him before he can get rid of you, that voice at her shoulder whispers. whispers about how she killed him, how he's playing nice to gain her trust so he can do what people always do. (--wrong. that's wrong. look at him; his eyes are so stupidly kind and it doesn't feel fake. Vander doesn't feel fake.)
...she's at a loss, the internal tug-of-war leaving her visibly struggling and unfocused, distracted as she looks into his face. what does she do?
what should she do?
what does she even want from him? she doesn't know. ]