[ Cathaway's lesson come in handy now. She doesn't want to irk him further, this connection she knows can be a reflective, echoing back at each other. Rather her mind is a soft quiet, the murmuring of far off lights, all mourning and remembrance.
Doesn't speak with it, there's no response to it, rather she opens her mind to him, lets him yell and rage and shifts all accepting of it. Responds instead by giving him the location of where she is -- the Bearings. Her room. The invitation with it that he should come to her. ( Selfish too, she doesn't want to be alone right now, but she can't quite face the others either. Wants her own, what's left of it. ) ]
[ There's barely the consideration to stop his whining before he realizes Angel isn't responding. Not with words that he can hear and use, at least, which only makes him panic and reach out for her with a stronger grip. Her decision to ease herself away from their connection is sound. Eventually, when he pauses to think about what he's being shown, Petre puts on his shoes and heads out, quickly rushing down the hallways to knock on her door. ]
[ The door opens as soon as he knocks. She's already waiting, of course she is, they're tied up together. If in misery if nothing else, maybe. How needfully he reaches for her and she's too eager to reach back with both hands. Wages maybe that this is all hers, that he wouldn't say please to many people.
[ He wouldn't say please to many people, no. He knows politeness works on her to an extent, since he actually has to act less terrible in order for her to like him, and he does so want her to like him. She's the closest replacement he's found for Diana, even if their personalities couldn't be further apart. They still treat him the same way. That's enough.
He looks at her for a moment, apparently stunned - then he walks into the room, pace rushed before he just takes the liberty of sitting down, leg shaking anxiously. ]
[ Her lips press, watching him, and the fact is, she doesn't know. There are now so few of them, cut down to just the three of them left and Aoba was -- as likely to rip them apart as Petre could and she found herself at a loss of wanting to spare them both feeling like this, of keeping them both grounded as best she could.
She would do anything, anything for them, so she does maybe not the wisest thing, but it's the honest thing. It's the thing they have right now.
Angel sits down beside him, in the small space of her room. Tucking her legs under her in the small space of the couch that came with the room, and she peers at his face. There isn't an answer, that's the problem, nothing direct, and that grates so much, she knows, that they have to passively accept when one of them goes.
Then the only thing that makes sense to do, the thing she's doing now. ]
Look after what we have left. [ she swallows. Rolling her shoulders back, and he might just rip her to shreds, but it's fine, he's brood, she's accepted it as she carefully opens her arms in invitation, beckoning him closer if he wants. ] Come here?
[ He doesn't think about those things - the danger he poses to her, because she's brood, because even when he mistakenly thought Sam was threatening her well-being he viciously jumped at his back immediately. It's more possessiveness than a protective instinct, knowing and wanting Angel to be his. Maybe the day will come when he's so hurt or blind that he'll try to harm someone he actually likes, but it doesn't even cross his mind. He'd need to have a conscience first.
Instead, effectively enough, Angel gives him pause. Where he'd been at a conflict he now stands with confusion, because she can't be offering him a hug. What would that even look like? ]
Uhm. Okay.
[ The demon becomes an awkward teenager, as he should have been all along, shifting closer to sit by her side, fingers curled into his hands. ]
[ And they're both just so awkward aren't they? She has no real world experience what the brood has given her, and he's well -- a demon that seemed as lonely as she was. He's more human right now than she's seen him when he's gloating of his gluttony at least. Sitting stiff beside her, she regards him quietly, and awkward as she is, has been ( Lexa, but she's really not thinking about that right now ), she is determined.
Instead, she shifts, pressing her shoulder to his, she's not exactly tall, and sitting down that didn't change much. Her arms come around his shoulder then -- and she knows how much she wants for these sorts of things, and rather like this, there's no helping the connection, lets him settle against her with a tug in, to press his face against her shoulder, turning her own into his hair as carefully as he'd allow. Shifting herself to brace his weight against her. More than that, to her the connection is no more than an extension of herself, and she is always shifting, not defined. Rather she moulds herself as a place to rest now, flings the corridors of her mind open wide for him to settle into -- connection, what it was to be brood, that intangible wholeness that was being chipped away at, little by little.
Softer this time, an echo in her mind, as she pries herself open for him to settle against, whatever it cost her so be it. It's the only surety she can give at the moment, it is the only one she has. ]
[ He's split between awkward teenager and an apprehensive small animal, eyes open while he allows her and himself to drift closer, one arm around him, her face in his hair, all very soft and gentle. It's the opposite of what he's used to, the opposite of what he's supposed to enjoy. All he has is uncertainty now, and it's a bit like dipping into cold water little by little until your body adapts to the temperature. From then he manages to find comfort, however strange that still is, and his eyes droop a little.
He's no longer pushing and shoving to stay connected with her. They just are. ]
[ And there -- for all there is worry about what he might do to her, there is the same, there is as much she might do for him too. The influence worked both ways and it is no more apparent than in this, how as he slowly adjusts, he settles against her and she turns her head to lay her cheek against his hair, a little more comfortable. The open back and forth of their minds. Settling herself comfortably to the back of the small couch.
A hum, soft, small, she doesn't have an answer for that, she might never. She doesn't want to go. Doesn't want him to go, either. He's part of her, now. After what had happened to Parker, she would never make the mistake of letting them slip out of her hold again. ]
(I don't know. ) [ silence. ] (But I don't want to go, either. So I can promise you, I'll hang on as long as I can. )
[ The answer, for how well-intended it is, still has the edge of Petre's fear coming true, so he stirs with tension in his arms and shoulders. He imagines being completely alone, no Angel, no Diana, not even Aoba. It'll be him against the other broods, he'll just be angry and bitter. There will be no comfort in the hollowness that is left behind. ]
[ She tightens her arms around his shoulders, pressing her face into his hair with a softness. Affection she's not used to but that - makes it easier. The things she had wanted for herself but never had, given back. ]
(I'll be right here.)
[ Soft as rain, just there, tucked in his mind, where he is tucked in hers. Where, as there is less and less of them, but they're still just there, if out of reach. Their thoughts, feelings, the little bits of them scattered. ]
[ For a long moment, Petre remains quiet. It's a bit like letting oneself fall asleep under the warmth of the sun, nerves and mind going quiet. He'd been so agitated coming here that it's almost strange to have it calmed down, but the purpose of seeking out Angel had always been for comfort and security. He just hadn't consciously counted on it happening. ]
[ Her fingers settle against his hair, drawing through it slowly, absently. It's soft, she notes. Wonders if psychos can be soft too - and makes sense. The world is never as straightforward as it appears, not that she has ever seen. ]
(I'm glad you are Petre, I think I'd be too scared to be here all by myself.)
[ She could, she is used to be alone, but that had been different. It was hard enough looking at everyone else's broods as they were, to how little they have left now. ]
[ It makes him look up at her, some incredulity in his eyes. He hadn't expected her to feel scared, and - well. Fear is something he knows what to do with, because fear requires safety in order to be quieted down. He thinks he can do that. He thinks he can finally be useful to Angel.
[ She looks at him with a smile then, grateful, that she'll have him in this. They can face these things. ]
Thank you. I'm glad to hear it. [ Smoothes her fingers through his hair over again, pushing it away from his eyes in a careful gesture so she could look at him properly. ] I won't let anything scare you either.
[ She can afford to feed it right now, get him calm, make him feel in control of himself. It's the best way she knows how to counter the swings, after Jack, she had worked that out. ]
Yeah, guess you wouldn't huh? Demons must not be scared of very much.
[ Catches the glimpse of it, but in turn she knows people like that - beings that kill like they were destruction itself. Murderers and saviours, they have a gun in each hand and she misses them in her way. ]
[ The reluctance in his voice isn't to admit it - rather just. Say it out loud at all. What if someone else is listening in on Petre having feelings. ]
[ She both knows and does not know missing. She knows longing, she knows wanting, but missing someone in particular? Rather than just a notion? She's not sure it's the same thing. It hadn't felt the same as what Steve talked about, or what Petre is currently pretending he doesn't feel. ]
Maybe. I haven't... really missed anyone since I came here. I definitely don't miss my home at all.
[ He's surprised, but even that sentiment is only mild. He supposes he's surprised at how little he misses everything about the place from where he came, too. He knows he misses hunting people, but the mission itself was just... something to do. Others would call it purpose, but he's too brash to understand it for what it was. He just wants Diana back. ]
[ she shrugs, one finger lifting up and then down again. ] I spent my life locked in one room with no one else.
[ Like this it's, easy to keep the memories locked away. Instead she tilts her head, drawing her fingers through his hair in a languid motion. Letting them curl through it and humming softly. ] No one misses their cage.
[ She keeps up the shifting motions of her fingers, as long as he seems to be letting her. She likes this. Likes being close and comfortable with someone she doesn't have to pretend quite the same around. ]
No more cages. [ she trusts in those words. Never again. ] What do you miss most about your Diana?
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circumspector) wrote2016-03-14 03:55 pm
[ sighs deeply ]
Doesn't speak with it, there's no response to it, rather she opens her mind to him, lets him yell and rage and shifts all accepting of it. Responds instead by giving him the location of where she is -- the Bearings. Her room. The invitation with it that he should come to her. ( Selfish too, she doesn't want to be alone right now, but she can't quite face the others either. Wants her own, what's left of it. ) ]
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Angel? It's me. Let me in, please?
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[ The door opens as soon as he knocks. She's already waiting, of course she is, they're tied up together. If in misery if nothing else, maybe. How needfully he reaches for her and she's too eager to reach back with both hands. Wages maybe that this is all hers, that he wouldn't say please to many people.
Being here, it means just about everything. ]
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He looks at her for a moment, apparently stunned - then he walks into the room, pace rushed before he just takes the liberty of sitting down, leg shaking anxiously. ]
What am I supposed to do?
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She would do anything, anything for them, so she does maybe not the wisest thing, but it's the honest thing. It's the thing they have right now.
Angel sits down beside him, in the small space of her room. Tucking her legs under her in the small space of the couch that came with the room, and she peers at his face. There isn't an answer, that's the problem, nothing direct, and that grates so much, she knows, that they have to passively accept when one of them goes.
Then the only thing that makes sense to do, the thing she's doing now. ]
Look after what we have left. [ she swallows. Rolling her shoulders back, and he might just rip her to shreds, but it's fine, he's brood, she's accepted it as she carefully opens her arms in invitation, beckoning him closer if he wants. ] Come here?
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Instead, effectively enough, Angel gives him pause. Where he'd been at a conflict he now stands with confusion, because she can't be offering him a hug. What would that even look like? ]
Uhm. Okay.
[ The demon becomes an awkward teenager, as he should have been all along, shifting closer to sit by her side, fingers curled into his hands. ]
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Instead, she shifts, pressing her shoulder to his, she's not exactly tall, and sitting down that didn't change much. Her arms come around his shoulder then -- and she knows how much she wants for these sorts of things, and rather like this, there's no helping the connection, lets him settle against her with a tug in, to press his face against her shoulder, turning her own into his hair as carefully as he'd allow. Shifting herself to brace his weight against her. More than that, to her the connection is no more than an extension of herself, and she is always shifting, not defined. Rather she moulds herself as a place to rest now, flings the corridors of her mind open wide for him to settle into -- connection, what it was to be brood, that intangible wholeness that was being chipped away at, little by little.
Softer this time, an echo in her mind, as she pries herself open for him to settle against, whatever it cost her so be it. It's the only surety she can give at the moment, it is the only one she has. ]
( we're still here. )
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He's no longer pushing and shoving to stay connected with her. They just are. ]
( What if you leave me too. )
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A hum, soft, small, she doesn't have an answer for that, she might never. She doesn't want to go. Doesn't want him to go, either. He's part of her, now. After what had happened to Parker, she would never make the mistake of letting them slip out of her hold again. ]
( I don't know. ) [ silence. ] ( But I don't want to go, either. So I can promise you, I'll hang on as long as I can. )
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( I won't let you leave. )
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( I'll be right here. )
[ Soft as rain, just there, tucked in his mind, where he is tucked in hers. Where, as there is less and less of them, but they're still just there, if out of reach. Their thoughts, feelings, the little bits of them scattered. ]
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( I'll be here too. )
[ Is the nicest promise he can make to her. ]
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( I'm glad you are Petre, I think I'd be too scared to be here all by myself. )
[ She could, she is used to be alone, but that had been different. It was hard enough looking at everyone else's broods as they were, to how little they have left now. ]
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So his next words are spoken, not sent. ]
I won't let anything scare you, then.
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Thank you. I'm glad to hear it. [ Smoothes her fingers through his hair over again, pushing it away from his eyes in a careful gesture so she could look at him properly. ] I won't let anything scare you either.
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Nothing scares me.
[ A blatant lie, since he just came crying to her. ]
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Yeah, guess you wouldn't huh? Demons must not be scared of very much.
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[ She had absolutely nothing to be afraid of, Diana. Except, perhaps, losing her newest small brother. Which she has now. But he's lost her too. ]
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[ Catches the glimpse of it, but in turn she knows people like that - beings that kill like they were destruction itself. Murderers and saviours, they have a gun in each hand and she misses them in her way. ]
Do you miss her?
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Yeah, of course I miss her. You'd miss her too.
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Maybe. I haven't... really missed anyone since I came here. I definitely don't miss my home at all.
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[ He's surprised, but even that sentiment is only mild. He supposes he's surprised at how little he misses everything about the place from where he came, too. He knows he misses hunting people, but the mission itself was just... something to do. Others would call it purpose, but he's too brash to understand it for what it was. He just wants Diana back. ]
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[ Like this it's, easy to keep the memories locked away. Instead she tilts her head, drawing her fingers through his hair in a languid motion. Letting them curl through it and humming softly. ] No one misses their cage.
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No more cages.
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No more cages. [ she trusts in those words. Never again. ] What do you miss most about your Diana?
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