NOW ISN’T THAT AN OMINOUS SHADE OF THE PAST. something otherworldly that just shouldn’t belong here ; the tangibility of flesh, bone & metal, the deep obsidian irises ( the dead does not truly stay dead ). & she cannot call it anything but miraculous. post-outburst, watches with FATIGUED eyes, a face in the “regular” crowd of afterlife’s solos, & perceives the voice she hadn’t heard in months. a similar creature to herself in a different life.
goodbye 𝐕 & never stop fighting …
the memories & words are palpable. they HAUNTED her in her dreams because she wanted them to until the stings went away & she can finally compartmentalize. cauterize silverhand, a literal piece of her existence & sanity, out of her life. ( still disconnected, a broken device spewing static & splitting migraines!! ) as the relic stands there barefaced with his perpetual INSOUCIANCE & slouched posture, stumbles upon the disturbing conclusion that such extreme course of action isn’t practical or feasible. 𝐕 blinks slowly, owlish, nearly forgetting where she is in favor of it & the memories.
the moment she feels the tension NIPPING at her tear ducts, 𝐕’s human response was to instead pull her organic hand back & smack him across the face with a DIZZYING force. she’s not the type to cry openly, so she doesn’t.
❛ ——you don’t get to act casual with me. i’m not one of your little ex-outputs, ❜ she says, & the sound’s abrupt & sharp.
it sounds foul. but it’s easier to destroy things & use force than CRY. her mood’s trembled between frustrated exhaustion & general frustration. took johnny’s retort turned ‘greeting’. stomped on the pleasantries & cut to the chase with a blasé, sardonic drawl. gestures with the toss of her head toward the bar. her bar.
❛ i should disembowel your punkass. ❜
a fatigue headache worms down through her CRANIUM. despite herself, walks them down the narrow pathway of neon lights toward the elongated counter like a swan gliding over glass. they’re afforded strange looks in passing, especially johnny.
& fortunately for him, rogue is not in TOWN for a day or so.
he should’ve seen it coming , but he doesn’t . there’s this part of him , however small , that thought maybe they were beyond pretending . ❛ ------------------- fuck . ❜ 𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙻 , 𝙷𝙴 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝚂 𝙷𝙴𝚁 . he knows exactly what this is . [ when her palm connects with his face , leaves a sharp sting , leaves him reeling . he puts cold metal to his cheek . it soothes , but only temporarily . it’s gonna bruise . 𝗕𝗘𝗘𝗡 𝗔 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗛𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗗 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗘 . ]
he slowly removes his glasses from his face , since they’re off centre anyway , now . he gives her a long , firm look before she moves towards the bar . 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙰 𝙼𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙵𝙾𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚆𝙸𝙽𝙶 . but he came all the way here . didn’t expect to find her hanging around , but it’s just how things are . so he trails after her .
❛ third times the charm . ❜ ( who knows , she might actually succeed where everyone else failed . ) he moves up to the bar , and like he has done so many times before he perches himself on the edge of a barstool . aviators discarded on the counter . 𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗕𝗦 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗧 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗘𝗬𝗘𝗦 . it’s hard , actually . feels almost like rejection . he doesn’t care to think much on 𝚆𝙷𝚈 . it’s not like he came here looking violence . he’s not as much of a masochist as he used to be .
[ 𝗛𝗘'𝗗 𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥 𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗧 . ] although he likes to think he’s gotten a bit better about avoiding problems . gotten a bit better about being honest with himself , too . he leans his arm on the bar .
❛ look , i didn’t expect to see you , neither . you could’a just said “ hi . “ ❜
