honey, i rose up from the dead. i do it all the time
The glass ball doesn’t matter, according to Isla, and he doesn’t know what it was or anything of the sort – so he tries to let her assurance release some of the tension bound up within him, finding himself drawn to relative silence as he pulls the glass out completely, offering it to her so she can set it on the table. Once that’s done, she’s guiding him to lay down and he follows through with her instruction – he trusts her, of course, even if he’s being sour and bitter, pissed off and halfway between disassociating with what’s happening.
“Alright.” He says quietly, realizing shortly after that she’s trying to grab the mask that he’s clutching to his hand as if it’s the last semblance of anything he has. He works his jaw, lets her have the mask to set on the table, too, before he settles and rests his head back to stare at the ceiling, ensuring he doesn’t breathe, but his jaw clenches hard enough to almost feel his teeth creaking in his mouth.
His gaze snaps to her, though, as she wipes the rain from his face, as she reminds him it was an accident and he offers a small nod at first, a brief quirk to his lips that wrinkles his nose slightly. “I know. I’m sorry.” He’s sorry he’s being difficult, he knows he is. He knows he might have also scared her since she hadn’t recnogized him, but he can’t find it in him to talk about that either. All he can do is simply sit there, wait, try to pull himself out of his mood even if it’s the only thing that seems to keep him tethered. Almost as if he didn’t focus on his simmering anger that he might simply float away.
“Alright.” He says quietly, realizing shortly after that she’s trying to grab the mask that he’s clutching to his hand as if it’s the last semblance of anything he has. He works his jaw, lets her have the mask to set on the table, too, before he settles and rests his head back to stare at the ceiling, ensuring he doesn’t breathe, but his jaw clenches hard enough to almost feel his teeth creaking in his mouth.
His gaze snaps to her, though, as she wipes the rain from his face, as she reminds him it was an accident and he offers a small nod at first, a brief quirk to his lips that wrinkles his nose slightly. “I know. I’m sorry.” He’s sorry he’s being difficult, he knows he is. He knows he might have also scared her since she hadn’t recnogized him, but he can’t find it in him to talk about that either. All he can do is simply sit there, wait, try to pull himself out of his mood even if it’s the only thing that seems to keep him tethered. Almost as if he didn’t focus on his simmering anger that he might simply float away.
VARUS
