Ianthe stood there and furrowed her brow in thought. After a moment, her eyes started flickering back and forth quickly like when she'd looked at finished map. Her breathing even stopped for a good thirty seconds before she blinked and exhaled.]
What were we doing the last, like, thirty minutes?
[ this is a factual recounting, but there's no hiding the blunt concern in alina's expression now. something is seriously off here. she reaches out, ready to take the journals from ianthe. ]
Let's put these away. We can come back for them later.
[Then Alina reached for the journals and the necrotic field was up before Ianthe realized she'd raised her hand for the theorem. The tips of Alina's fingers would start to decay to bone while within the defensive field, reverting to normal the moment it was withdrawn.]
Don't touch--Oh fuck no stop! STOP!!
[The nasty reflexive venom turned to panic as Ianthe cut off the field, eyes wide, hand shaking, as she hoped she was fast enough.]
[ by the time alina yelps, it's too late. she can see pieces of her hand's sinew, a flash of white bone. she sees it before the pain even hits her because her whole body tells her to shut down the feeling, too overwhelmed by it. looking at it feels disorienting — it can't be her hand, she'd feel it if it were, but it is her hand. her brain has just disowned it, refusing to process what's happening to it. rejecting the signal.
when she yanks it back, grips her wrist, she staggers back into the wall because the pain starts to crawl up her arm. at first, it's just hot, then the mangled particulars start to settle in. she chokes on her breath.
it's the worst pain she's ever felt. the worst injury she's ever had. heat burns in the back of her neck, and the world tilts off kilter. she can't manage words. ]
[The actual injury didn't phase Ianthe - the damage would be undone once the limb was free of the effects of the field - but that didn't make the pain of it any less. And she'd done it to Alina.
The journals were dropped onto the floor and Ianthe tried to wrap Alina up in her arms, to slide them to sit on the floor. Assuming she wasn't getting shoved off or sunblasted in the face.]
I'm sorry. I don't know why-- It'll be okay. I'm sorry. Fuck. I didn't mean-- I just. [Her eyes were wet.]
[ alina blurts it out as she pushes with her good hand at ianthe, instinctually fearful of the proximity. light blooms from her hand—crystallizes and hardens into a shield-like structure that briefly flickers to keep ianthe at a distance, then fades in a flash.
she wants to be a saint. a perfect, good paragon of all the things ravka expects of her. but she's barely more than a child, and she is petty, and she is tired of being wounded by the people she lets close to her.
her expression is hard to read, only because her emotions overlap one another. hurt here, betrayal there, shock in the slight parting of her mouth. they all battle for dominance.
but now that she's said it, now that she's rejected ianthe's immediate apology, alina can see why her brain had started to accept the pain of her injured hand. already, it is knitting itself back together, and it is the healing that hurts more than the original wound had.
she looks from ianthe, to her hand, and back. she can't wrap her head around it. the strange behavior, the magic, the research. the way that alina had felt like ianthe didn't even see her there. ] What is wrong with you?
[ it sounds accusatory. it is, a little. but it's the culmination of concern, and a shame that it erupts like this, mingled with alina's anger. ]
[The shield stopped Ianthe short and she dropped her arms, stopped trying to comfort Alina for the lyctor's own mistake. She didn't mean it, but that didn't matter. Impact meant more than intentions and a part of her wasn't sure she hadn't meant it. She couldn't take it back, no matter how horrible it made her feel. She hadn't felt this kind of twisting in her stomach since--]
I don't know. I don't know what's happening.
[Words Ianthe was normally loathe to admit came out quiet. Diminished. Truthful.
She backed away from Alina until her back found the opposite wall. There she slid down to the floor and stared at a spot on the floor between them, tears slipping down her cheeks as she felt the tightness in her throat.]
[ alina snaps. she can feel her hand again. the pain is fading, as the worst of the injury fades. she's still in shock, though—and her conversation with aleksander is still too fresh for her to feel anything but manipulated by ianthe's show of weakness. ]
Whatever work you're doing, even if it's for your sister, this isn't ... You're acting insane.
[It was getting worse. It had been getting worse. It had started before Coronabeth disappeared and Ianthe didn't know what was causing it. Except she did; she just couldn't stop. There was something important in that variation in the distances, something that mattered.
Something that hasn't been letting her sleep. Ianthe didn't sleep much to begin with, but when she laid down for bed lately her mind simply wouldn't stop enough for her to get more than an hour or so. This was like when Harrowhark wouldn't sleep because of the Saint of Duty's attacks. She'd gone off the fucking deep end then - more than normal.
She wanted to say that anything was worth it for her sister, but what wound that accomplish? That wasn't what this was about; it was the Void and finishing her research. And none of that matters to Alina.
So Ianthe got to her feet, wiped her tears away, and drew in a slow breath, trying to resettle herself.]
I am sorry.
[She went to the journals and stared at them for a moment before picking them up. She should just leave Alina alone. Go lay down or something. Stare out the window. Yeah. That's the smart thing to do, remove herself from Alina's radius.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Alina? Why are you-- I thought you were coming with me.
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[ flicks a fingerbone off a dresser like it somehow helps her make a point. ]
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Oh. Forgot about the ward.
[Take the fucking pencil out of your mouth, Ianthe.
She removed it and extended a hand through the ward for Alina to take.] Come on.
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[ she gestures to the doorway. ]
There's like a ... a barrier, or something.
[ it hasn't occurred to her that it was there to begin with. ]
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[She waggled her hand.] Take my hand and you'll pass through it.
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I don't do much bone magic. I specialize in the other two schools.
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[ sunlight isn't gross or morbid. all the same, she's walking down the hall with ianthe. ]
You forgot to get clothes. And a hairbrush. And I doubt you want to bring those journals into the banya with us.
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[Ianthe couldn't imagine being so limited.]
We already did that. We're going to the Void. I need that measurement.
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[ she stops in the hallway, incredulous. ]
Look at your hair.
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Ianthe stood there and furrowed her brow in thought. After a moment, her eyes started flickering back and forth quickly like when she'd looked at finished map. Her breathing even stopped for a good thirty seconds before she blinked and exhaled.]
What were we doing the last, like, thirty minutes?
[She'd lost some time again. The fuck?]
no subject
[ this is a factual recounting, but there's no hiding the blunt concern in alina's expression now. something is seriously off here. she reaches out, ready to take the journals from ianthe. ]
Let's put these away. We can come back for them later.
no subject
[Then Alina reached for the journals and the necrotic field was up before Ianthe realized she'd raised her hand for the theorem. The tips of Alina's fingers would start to decay to bone while within the defensive field, reverting to normal the moment it was withdrawn.]
Don't touch--Oh fuck no stop! STOP!!
[The nasty reflexive venom turned to panic as Ianthe cut off the field, eyes wide, hand shaking, as she hoped she was fast enough.]
Shit, shit, shit.
(cw: gore & major injury)
when she yanks it back, grips her wrist, she staggers back into the wall because the pain starts to crawl up her arm. at first, it's just hot, then the mangled particulars start to settle in. she chokes on her breath.
it's the worst pain she's ever felt. the worst injury she's ever had. heat burns in the back of her neck, and the world tilts off kilter. she can't manage words. ]
no subject
The journals were dropped onto the floor and Ianthe tried to wrap Alina up in her arms, to slide them to sit on the floor. Assuming she wasn't getting shoved off or sunblasted in the face.]
I'm sorry. I don't know why-- It'll be okay. I'm sorry. Fuck. I didn't mean-- I just. [Her eyes were wet.]
I'm sorry.
no subject
[ alina blurts it out as she pushes with her good hand at ianthe, instinctually fearful of the proximity. light blooms from her hand—crystallizes and hardens into a shield-like structure that briefly flickers to keep ianthe at a distance, then fades in a flash.
she wants to be a saint. a perfect, good paragon of all the things ravka expects of her. but she's barely more than a child, and she is petty, and she is tired of being wounded by the people she lets close to her.
her expression is hard to read, only because her emotions overlap one another. hurt here, betrayal there, shock in the slight parting of her mouth. they all battle for dominance.
but now that she's said it, now that she's rejected ianthe's immediate apology, alina can see why her brain had started to accept the pain of her injured hand. already, it is knitting itself back together, and it is the healing that hurts more than the original wound had.
she looks from ianthe, to her hand, and back. she can't wrap her head around it. the strange behavior, the magic, the research. the way that alina had felt like ianthe didn't even see her there. ] What is wrong with you?
[ it sounds accusatory. it is, a little. but it's the culmination of concern, and a shame that it erupts like this, mingled with alina's anger. ]
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I don't know. I don't know what's happening.
[Words Ianthe was normally loathe to admit came out quiet. Diminished. Truthful.
She backed away from Alina until her back found the opposite wall. There she slid down to the floor and stared at a spot on the floor between them, tears slipping down her cheeks as she felt the tightness in her throat.]
I'm so tired.
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[ alina snaps. she can feel her hand again. the pain is fading, as the worst of the injury fades. she's still in shock, though—and her conversation with aleksander is still too fresh for her to feel anything but manipulated by ianthe's show of weakness. ]
Whatever work you're doing, even if it's for your sister, this isn't ... You're acting insane.
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Something that hasn't been letting her sleep. Ianthe didn't sleep much to begin with, but when she laid down for bed lately her mind simply wouldn't stop enough for her to get more than an hour or so. This was like when Harrowhark wouldn't sleep because of the Saint of Duty's attacks. She'd gone off the fucking deep end then - more than normal.
She wanted to say that anything was worth it for her sister, but what wound that accomplish? That wasn't what this was about; it was the Void and finishing her research. And none of that matters to Alina.
So Ianthe got to her feet, wiped her tears away, and drew in a slow breath, trying to resettle herself.]
I am sorry.
[She went to the journals and stared at them for a moment before picking them up. She should just leave Alina alone. Go lay down or something. Stare out the window. Yeah. That's the smart thing to do, remove herself from Alina's radius.]