No. ( an immediate denial. alina's head shakes, clearing the thought like sweeping sticky cobwebs. ) Mal isn't like us. He's normal.
( and if she's resentful of that fact, it only trickles through the words a little, a bittersweet coating. she should be happier for it — to have one piece of herself that doesn't belong to destiny's greater puzzle, to have been loved by someone without fate weaving it into being. but as she says it, it feels like the one pervasive reminder that she and mal were born to be separated, a dividing line between them, for all that she had given up to be by his side.
her mouth sags, drooping into a frown. it's not the time or the place to grieve a past she should have buried, by now. it doesn't feel like the time or the place to meet koby's gaze like there's a war of attrition between them, either, and still — she holds herself to it. vibrating with suspicion, measuring what would cost her more: doing nothing to shelter koby from the night's threats, or preserving her secret.
in the end, the choice is easy. she nods, albeit reluctantly. )
I could cut us a path through, if I trusted it would work. But ... ( the convenient excuse: ) I think the maze is meddling with my summoning, too.
( what she doesn't say, for fear of being looked at with a wariness that would be warranted: if she trusted that her own power would cooperate. if she trusted that she would not slice through the grounds, and the manor, and anyone lurking within range, a destructive hurricane of strength threatening to upend everything in its path. alina's throat bobs with a swallow, rubbing her fingers together, generating little tingles of heat in the tips. better that koby thinks the maze too resilient, than to think of alina as what she is: dangerous, and made all the more so, in her inexperience.
but she can offer one safer, temporary solution. )
Are you ... ( cold? is a stupid question. she hesitates, eyeing koby's squirming shudders. stating the obvious, anyway: ) You're shivering.
no subject
( and if she's resentful of that fact, it only trickles through the words a little, a bittersweet coating. she should be happier for it — to have one piece of herself that doesn't belong to destiny's greater puzzle, to have been loved by someone without fate weaving it into being. but as she says it, it feels like the one pervasive reminder that she and mal were born to be separated, a dividing line between them, for all that she had given up to be by his side.
her mouth sags, drooping into a frown. it's not the time or the place to grieve a past she should have buried, by now. it doesn't feel like the time or the place to meet koby's gaze like there's a war of attrition between them, either, and still — she holds herself to it. vibrating with suspicion, measuring what would cost her more: doing nothing to shelter koby from the night's threats, or preserving her secret.
in the end, the choice is easy. she nods, albeit reluctantly. )
I could cut us a path through, if I trusted it would work. But ... ( the convenient excuse: ) I think the maze is meddling with my summoning, too.
( what she doesn't say, for fear of being looked at with a wariness that would be warranted: if she trusted that her own power would cooperate. if she trusted that she would not slice through the grounds, and the manor, and anyone lurking within range, a destructive hurricane of strength threatening to upend everything in its path. alina's throat bobs with a swallow, rubbing her fingers together, generating little tingles of heat in the tips. better that koby thinks the maze too resilient, than to think of alina as what she is: dangerous, and made all the more so, in her inexperience.
but she can offer one safer, temporary solution. )
Are you ... ( cold? is a stupid question. she hesitates, eyeing koby's squirming shudders. stating the obvious, anyway: ) You're shivering.