[ It's a smooth process, as gentle a corruption — if it can even be called that — as he can offer. Bringing someone back into the fold, into what he knows is right.
There are red flags he doesn't catch — what is loneliness, anyway; Amos could get by just fine with nobody else around him for years, decades, and be thoroughly unaffected — and some he gets glimpses of. A cold that's actively unpleasant, rather than just existing. A hint of childhood trauma he catches a fleeting notion of, but not the whole story. They're easy enough to continue overlooking, attribute to as blips and nothing more, in the midst of properly converting her...
The No is an active disruption, and Amos looks up sharply to meet Akua's eyes as she grabs at his wrist. Digs into it with everything she has. It doesn't hurt; it just means he needs to pay attention, so, he is.
At least until she orders him to take Zenith away from her, and eyes slightly widened from surprise instantly narrow. ]
Fuck are you doing? [ The question is muttered, half asking her, half asking himself. ] You know where you're supposed to be. Just gotta get you over the hump.
[ He glances down at her hand gripping his wrist, bringing his other hand down to grip at hers — and with that the flow of Zenith from him to her becomes less gentle, more encroaching. A suddenly aggressive invasion in hopes of overwhelming the opposition. Of making shit go by quick so it's done and over with sooner rather than later, so things don't end up fucked. ]
no subject
There are red flags he doesn't catch — what is loneliness, anyway; Amos could get by just fine with nobody else around him for years, decades, and be thoroughly unaffected — and some he gets glimpses of. A cold that's actively unpleasant, rather than just existing. A hint of childhood trauma he catches a fleeting notion of, but not the whole story. They're easy enough to continue overlooking, attribute to as blips and nothing more, in the midst of properly converting her...
The No is an active disruption, and Amos looks up sharply to meet Akua's eyes as she grabs at his wrist. Digs into it with everything she has. It doesn't hurt; it just means he needs to pay attention, so, he is.
At least until she orders him to take Zenith away from her, and eyes slightly widened from surprise instantly narrow. ]
Fuck are you doing? [ The question is muttered, half asking her, half asking himself. ] You know where you're supposed to be. Just gotta get you over the hump.
[ He glances down at her hand gripping his wrist, bringing his other hand down to grip at hers — and with that the flow of Zenith from him to her becomes less gentle, more encroaching. A suddenly aggressive invasion in hopes of overwhelming the opposition. Of making shit go by quick so it's done and over with sooner rather than later, so things don't end up fucked. ]