[ Though there was an invitation to attack, Silco's feet are quick and confident. He hadn't ever been a brawler, but they'd both been in plenty of scraps in their youth, and then there was the wealth of experience that dealing with his time in Horos and here combined. He is not a fighter, never will be a fighter, but he will indulge in the violence necessary to take what is his. Whether Vander liked it or not, whether he accepted it or not didn't matter, Jinx was not his daughter, in his mind, never had been, because Powder was as dead as the rest of her family had been. Just like Silco had been reborn from the water, so had she.
Did it help? He remembers her asking Kaeya, deep within Kowloon. When the shared promise of drowning hadn't --
No. It had helped. It couldn't have not, and he would not let a moment of questioning, a moment of uncertainty haunt him. The past always haunted them. Eternally.
He watched with an unblinking eye as Vander didn't even allow him the right to charge again. His motions are obvious -- because Vander had the bulk and strength to do whatever he wished -- but Silco didn't mind that. He wanted to be close, but he didn't want to be tackled. No hands on his throat, choking the life out of him this time. He won't allow it.
His knife is fast, and he lashed out with it, for Vander's hand -- wrist -- whatever -- It's meant to distract, and with a wary eye on the fist, a momentary flick, to watch for it, before he looks at what he really wants. It's not Vander's death, or dissipation. Not right now. There are greater plans in the works for that. No, what he wants --
He can see it. The flicker of shard and memory. He wants -- no, needs -- to take it.
His fingers reach out, almost of their own accord, to try and grasp for it. ]
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Did it help? He remembers her asking Kaeya, deep within Kowloon. When the shared promise of drowning hadn't --
No. It had helped. It couldn't have not, and he would not let a moment of questioning, a moment of uncertainty haunt him. The past always haunted them. Eternally.
He watched with an unblinking eye as Vander didn't even allow him the right to charge again. His motions are obvious -- because Vander had the bulk and strength to do whatever he wished -- but Silco didn't mind that. He wanted to be close, but he didn't want to be tackled. No hands on his throat, choking the life out of him this time. He won't allow it.
His knife is fast, and he lashed out with it, for Vander's hand -- wrist -- whatever -- It's meant to distract, and with a wary eye on the fist, a momentary flick, to watch for it, before he looks at what he really wants. It's not Vander's death, or dissipation. Not right now. There are greater plans in the works for that. No, what he wants --
He can see it. The flicker of shard and memory. He wants -- no, needs -- to take it.
His fingers reach out, almost of their own accord, to try and grasp for it. ]