It's the manic, almost sing-song, commercial shift of Jack's voice that confuses her first, as he's disentangling their hands, but she stands when asked to wait for the full beat of how long it takes Sabine to realize who Jack is suddenly approaching.
Or more aptly
w h a t
Sabine blinks, head tilting almost in a match with the one that meets her gaze. At once too aware of the endless doubled layers of what she was seeing. The broad overarching immensity and the suffocating compression. The strung thorns and etched lines, all of it bars of a crude but capable cage, woven through what looks like every iota of the husk-body standing before her.
And Jack.
It takes an act of God and Congress for Sabine to stand there when the first urge in her—green eyes making the slow, decided circuit of the head and shoulders of the 'man' in front of her, Jack obscuring a straight on for the rest of him— is the want to reach out and jerk Jack back immediately.
no subject
Or more aptly
w h a t
Sabine blinks, head tilting almost in a match with the one that meets her gaze. At once too aware of the endless doubled layers of what she was seeing. The broad overarching immensity and the suffocating compression. The strung thorns and etched lines, all of it bars of a crude but capable cage, woven through what looks like every iota of the husk-body standing before her.
And Jack.
It takes an act of God and Congress for Sabine to stand there when the first urge in her—green eyes making the slow, decided circuit of the head and shoulders of the 'man' in front of her, Jack obscuring a straight on for the rest of him— is the want to reach out and jerk Jack back immediately.