rraidergirl: (Don't trust strangers with guns)
Lara Croft ([personal profile] rraidergirl) wrote 2016-02-20 05:45 am (UTC)

[ She leans into him the instant she feels his arm around her shoulders. She didn't have this before, only Sam in the brief moments of calm on Yamatai. She thinks, distantly, that she ought to say something else. That she understands, that she's sorry about falling apart on him like this, she doesn't mean to.

The words don't come, but at least she's not sobbing, just noiseless tears running down her cheeks.

Skeleton got your tongue, kiddo? Sans voice is casual in her mind, a parody of warmth. It's odd there's no blood pooling on the floor, but the canon, electric blue and bright, had felt more like electricity, had left a burn. So maybe it was right that she couldn't find the blood, even if she can't stop picturing it, shining in the light of Miles' office and seeping into the floor (patch-worked from the sunlight through leaves, roots a tangled knot and small white flowers that feel wrong and out of place), staining pink slippers that don't exist.

She feels vaguely sick, doesn't want to throw up on Miles, but reluctant to pull away. He, at least, is real.
]

Right. All right. [ She stares at the blood on the floor she knows doesn't exist and tries to even out her breath. ]

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