[Vander had never wanted this. A familiar scene, playing out again and again like an endless echo. The two of them swinging and swiping at each other, further hammering in the point that these differences that had grown between them have become more and more irreconcilable. A compounding of anger every time they were driven to butt heads, creating a dense and unspeakable thing.
Even now, even after they had both taken each other’s life once before thanks to the quirk of their present circumstance, Vander still felt that old pang of guilt at seeing that hatred in Silco’s eyes and feeling a reflection of it burning within his own chest. He wishes there was another way. But Silco always had to go and make everything so. damn. hard.
It doesn’t help that he’s taking family and turning into something possessive to further fuel their feud. But Vander can be possessive too, and it’s that driving his charge forward, giving him the presence of mind to shift his footing to accommodate the swing of that knife. The blade goes tearing against his sleeve, the arc just barely wide of his hand—but Vander realizes the opportunity in that proximity, free hand darting out to attempt to seize Silco by the wrist instead. So focused on his own movement that he hardly registers Silco’s other hand darting out toward his chest until fingers brush against the mirror-like reflection his Shard has become in this place.
And then there’s the odd sensation of something being at the forefront of his mind and then… suddenly gone.]
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Even now, even after they had both taken each other’s life once before thanks to the quirk of their present circumstance, Vander still felt that old pang of guilt at seeing that hatred in Silco’s eyes and feeling a reflection of it burning within his own chest. He wishes there was another way. But Silco always had to go and make everything so. damn. hard.
It doesn’t help that he’s taking family and turning into something possessive to further fuel their feud. But Vander can be possessive too, and it’s that driving his charge forward, giving him the presence of mind to shift his footing to accommodate the swing of that knife. The blade goes tearing against his sleeve, the arc just barely wide of his hand—but Vander realizes the opportunity in that proximity, free hand darting out to attempt to seize Silco by the wrist instead. So focused on his own movement that he hardly registers Silco’s other hand darting out toward his chest until fingers brush against the mirror-like reflection his Shard has become in this place.
And then there’s the odd sensation of something being at the forefront of his mind and then… suddenly gone.]