( she exhales, the puffed-up defensiveness of an angry bird deflating back to its normal stature. he's right — all he's guilty of is being a convenient outlet for her misplaced rage, however animal-panicked she is. alina's eyes skirt to the side, chagrined, but drowning too far in the depths of her helpless impotence to apologize. )
How should I look?
( she challenges, tugging on the binding for emphasis. still, there's a weary note that drags the syllables down, indignation with dulled edges. )
It has nothing to do with you. ( it's intended as a reassurance, but. well. her voice slashes through the air like the blunted parry of a knife — defensive, but hardly capable of nicking skin. don't flatter yourself, it seems to suggest, because: ) I wouldn't want to be bound to anyone.
no subject
How should I look?
( she challenges, tugging on the binding for emphasis. still, there's a weary note that drags the syllables down, indignation with dulled edges. )
It has nothing to do with you. ( it's intended as a reassurance, but. well. her voice slashes through the air like the blunted parry of a knife — defensive, but hardly capable of nicking skin. don't flatter yourself, it seems to suggest, because: ) I wouldn't want to be bound to anyone.