[ 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.]
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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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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.]