// and it's alright, that's the way i like it —
He gets what she’s trying to say, and maybe there’s a touch of jealousy in the spark in his eyes that she can just get rid of whatever reminded her of Vesper when Thorn never quite got that lucky. His jaw works, muscles feathering at his temples as he hisses out a quiet sigh. “Some things y’can’t get rid of, though.” He doesn’t mean her house or the things inside it, each little reminder. It’s more self centered than that.
It’s the scar on his collarbone he can’t get rid of, that sits there as a reminder day after day, long enough that it’s become a background amongst his tattoos but less so these days than it had once been. Once upon a time it had been the only thing he could see, even having healed it the best he could. It never went away and became the reminder as much as it was a part of himself. And he’d learned quickly that he’d just have to learn to live with it.
So maybe it is best to get some of this frustration out with a spar, even if he doesn’t want to hurt her. It might tire him out from his own spiraling thoughts just as it should do for her too.
The wind picks up, the board clipping her shoulder before it shoots off in a loud clatter elsewhere, watching as she picks up the pair of kitchen tongs and clacks them like she’s a dad making dinner and he has to make sure they work. Her distraction works, though, because he does focus on the tongs (he’s not a fighter by any means), and while he uses his telekinesis this time to try and keep the tongs closed or tug them out of her hand when her fist collides with his upper arm.
“Oy!” Thorn mutters as he grabs the knife sharpener, dulled down and well worn with his telekinesis and aims to launch it back her way to try and hit her side. “Yeah, somethin’ was up. Rumor has it that’s kinda what the Blood Moon Festival does.” He explains to her, trying to step back to get out of the main area of attack.
2/4 Thorn gets hit but uses his telekinesis to yeet something else at her
It’s the scar on his collarbone he can’t get rid of, that sits there as a reminder day after day, long enough that it’s become a background amongst his tattoos but less so these days than it had once been. Once upon a time it had been the only thing he could see, even having healed it the best he could. It never went away and became the reminder as much as it was a part of himself. And he’d learned quickly that he’d just have to learn to live with it.
So maybe it is best to get some of this frustration out with a spar, even if he doesn’t want to hurt her. It might tire him out from his own spiraling thoughts just as it should do for her too.
The wind picks up, the board clipping her shoulder before it shoots off in a loud clatter elsewhere, watching as she picks up the pair of kitchen tongs and clacks them like she’s a dad making dinner and he has to make sure they work. Her distraction works, though, because he does focus on the tongs (he’s not a fighter by any means), and while he uses his telekinesis this time to try and keep the tongs closed or tug them out of her hand when her fist collides with his upper arm.
“Oy!” Thorn mutters as he grabs the knife sharpener, dulled down and well worn with his telekinesis and aims to launch it back her way to try and hit her side. “Yeah, somethin’ was up. Rumor has it that’s kinda what the Blood Moon Festival does.” He explains to her, trying to step back to get out of the main area of attack.
2/4 Thorn gets hit but uses his telekinesis to yeet something else at her
thorn
— getting crucified,
every time you cross my mind //
every time you cross my mind //
