002

[solmate]

WHO: Alina + closed starters (Kirigan, Ciri, Kylo, Geralt)
WHAT: Alina haunts some friends new and old
WHERE: Free Cities, the Horizon
WHEN: Throughout October
NOTES: No warnings currently. This will be a catch-all for October threads. If you'd like a custom starter, dm me and we'll figure something out!

Comments

[sankt]

You know I get all your letters.

[It's offhand, like this precision taunt requires only half his attention.

Less than half, actually; nearly none. This apparition, this strange window to her, has him enthralled. The closer he comes, the brighter his eyes are, not with wonder, but study. He's looking for the fabric of it. For the seams.]

The Singularity, it granted me a gift, [he says, implicitly ignoring whatever Alina's reaction might have been to explain to her this thing she didn't ask.] I can see things I couldn't before. [The particular way his mouth holds on to the shape of his last word—the fierce intent in his stare—

Abruptly, his focus shifts to her. He's right at the window. He's lifting his hand to it.]

[solmate]

[ She walked into that, but it doesn't make the reminder sting less, her hackles less prickly.

Before she can think better of it, she lifts her hand to push his away. Or perhaps it was yielding to a pull that pulsed in the back of her mind this whole time. Either way, the effect is immediate, power rushing to meet its match where skin meets skin, accompanied with an unfortunate memory of a kiss shared, a loneliness abated for just a moment, a request (Stop that or don't maybe) already forgotten.

Her hand lingers too long before she purposefully wrenches it back. ]

How lucky for you. [ Aggressively trying to seem like she does not care when she in fact cares very much. She darts to the side, scrambling to her feet, eyes darting around the room she assumed he could not see, but now she's not so sure. There's a thin knife for skinning hides around here somewhere she thinks, unwise taunts to distract him flowing out without much thought as she fixes her eyes on a drawer, and her mind grasps onto the idea of shutting a door. ] You can help the Queen find her lost jewelry. Or I'm sure they'll find some other use for you in that large castle.

[sankt]

[Alina touches him, the world beyond them both becomes trivial in his awareness, and the moment hangs in perfect stillness—until that distant ache comes rushing up on the current and crashes between them, louder than anything else. His fascination and suspicion, the pleasure of seeing her face, even the frustration that blooms after it like a dark stain: all of it, muted by that exquisitely loathsome ache.

In the liminal instant before their hands jerk apart, that black feeling shudders and spreads in an aggressive streak. He snatches after her, but she's too quick—]

Alina—

[No. Some shrill fragment of thought jerks his awareness like a rein, stops him following her directly; he can manage his impulses better than that.]

You shouldn't have left.

[solmate]

[ A flinch at her name, it almost sounds like there's something genuine behind it. Something she recognizes. Longing?

It's a distraction. Something false, something he's feigning on purpose, and something she can't afford to fall for. She hurriedly searches for something, anything. In her haste, she knocks a bottle of ink onto the floor, shattering. The metal nib pen is hardly a weapon, but it's the best she's got.

Turning on her heels, her knuckles are white around the pen, holding it more like it's a deadly sharp knife than something she had spent her meager wages on. It's hilarious to think it's even a useful in this case. ]

No. I'm safer here.

[ Maybe? Marginally? But it's not hard to figure out that she doesn't think that's true either. ]

[sankt]

[When she whirls on Kirigan, she'll find him no closer than where he'd stopped. His attention's just come up from the fallen ink, he looks ready to say something—and whatever that something was is summarily abandoned when it registers that she's wielding a pen like she's going to shank him with it. His posture briefly takes on the mildest slouch of exasperation: Really?]

What do you think I'm going to do, exactly? This is a window, not a door. [After a pause,] You really have no idea what you're doing, do you.

[solmate]

[ He's far too close, but she's far too stubborn to step back even if there was space for her to do so (her rear may or may not only inches from the short wooden dresser if not already skimming it.)

Her mouth opens ready to protest, but he is annoyingly correct. ]

Let me guess. You'd be willing to help me.

[sankt]

[The general's entire mien settles into reserve. Nothing eases his temper like being told he's right, even indirectly, but the way she's told him is like a needle. A trifling sting. Annoying. He need only wait a few seconds for it to subside and go on as if it were nothing. And so, at length:]

No... actually.

[That dull gleam in his eye, that's casual spite. He's enjoying this answer before he's even given it in full.]

I might have, but you broke our accord when you ran.

[He's keeping her letter; he's read it a dozen times, even smelled the paper it's on.]

So no, I don't think I will. If you want so badly to be on your own, then so be it.

[solmate]

[ That is... not what she was expecting. Alina looks a bit like she's had a foot fall through a patch of ice or missed a step coming down the stairs.

She's used to being told no, but... not by him. ]

Fine. [ Fine, she finally manages. ] I'm used to being alone anyway.

[ Used to it, but that doesn't mean she likes it. Her knuckles twist around the pen, a simmering anger threatening to spill out, but chance saves her from facing her own violence. As quickly as he had appeared, he is gone, the space empty.

And she is alone. ]