[ She settles for him, but her hand is still kept particularly on Aoba - because she has a particular balance she keeps with them both, and to that end, she can't bare to let him go, he's only one she'd let see these parts of her, regardless. At first, it's selfish as the agitation dissipates between them, the sharp snap of tension and crackling that Petre so often was. But another moment of consideration ( whirl, click, of thoughts as she takes a small breath that she holds in the back of her throat ). There's a worry there, how had she been asleep for them both to be like this? Too long, apparently. Too long without her, and Aoba...
... he'd have had to manage Petre, have to handle him. ( not a uncaring thought in her brain, for her, to care is to manage, what she can do, where she wasn't physically strong as others were ). She knows she can stomach him, even in his rages and his vileness. By constrast, Aoba... couldn't. He wasn't used to looking at, she supposed, how he had recalled from her memories of blood soaked sand and screaming, gloried in madness.
Suddenly, it's important for him to stay where maybe until she'd gotten Petre calm, she might send Aoba away for a moment. But: one day, she knows, in the way that she's a transient thing, all sirens are, she knows she won't be. Blinks, slowly, carefully at them both, and sucks in a breath. In the least awful way, if she'd gone to sleep twice, there was every chance she'd do it again.
So she tries not be obvious, making sure that Petre is sure she has her attention, but her fingers slip, and she lowers them to find Aoba's fingers. Not an obvious thing, rather, she curls her fingers around Aoba's pinkie, a childish sort of tug. Please, stay. Don't go away. Suddenly important for him to see it all. Unpleasant, perhaps, as it all is.
After all, they were brood. They were all each other, good and bad, now.
But she turns her face up to Petre to give him the attention she has learned he likes, and smiles soft at him. Turns her head, letting her hair catch against his fingers in a greeting before at last she turns her head back to Aoba. Giving him a look that's exhausted, worn out, but pleased more than anything and so earnestly, that she hadn't hurt him. ]
My abilities. I can't always control them. I hurt people with them, when that happens. I don't want to hurt you. I'll remember about your hair, next time. [ Her fingers give a squeeze. ] But I'm okay really, or - I will be in a second. [ It's given with a nudge into Petre's hand, a brief brush of affection. ]
cw: fucked up relationships probably???
... he'd have had to manage Petre, have to handle him. ( not a uncaring thought in her brain, for her, to care is to manage, what she can do, where she wasn't physically strong as others were ). She knows she can stomach him, even in his rages and his vileness. By constrast, Aoba... couldn't. He wasn't used to looking at, she supposed, how he had recalled from her memories of blood soaked sand and screaming, gloried in madness.
Suddenly, it's important for him to stay where maybe until she'd gotten Petre calm, she might send Aoba away for a moment. But: one day, she knows, in the way that she's a transient thing, all sirens are, she knows she won't be. Blinks, slowly, carefully at them both, and sucks in a breath. In the least awful way, if she'd gone to sleep twice, there was every chance she'd do it again.
So she tries not be obvious, making sure that Petre is sure she has her attention, but her fingers slip, and she lowers them to find Aoba's fingers. Not an obvious thing, rather, she curls her fingers around Aoba's pinkie, a childish sort of tug. Please, stay. Don't go away. Suddenly important for him to see it all. Unpleasant, perhaps, as it all is.
After all, they were brood. They were all each other, good and bad, now.
But she turns her face up to Petre to give him the attention she has learned he likes, and smiles soft at him. Turns her head, letting her hair catch against his fingers in a greeting before at last she turns her head back to Aoba. Giving him a look that's exhausted, worn out, but pleased more than anything and so earnestly, that she hadn't hurt him. ]
My abilities. I can't always control them. I hurt people with them, when that happens. I don't want to hurt you. I'll remember about your hair, next time. [ Her fingers give a squeeze. ] But I'm okay really, or - I will be in a second. [ It's given with a nudge into Petre's hand, a brief brush of affection. ]