@watcheir & sasha. don’t try to play me at this game. you’re doomed to failure.
it’s a double-edged bet she’s taking, whether or not she can ask elias her questions and get a goddamn straight answer out of him for once — there is so much she still does not know and so much she needs to, this voracious hunger in her, this curiosity that is not beholding-bound but her own. sasha doesn’t flinch at his near-threat. she’s been talking with monsters since before she was ever appointed archivist: elias is hardly a new obstacle.
he still thinks she’s afraid of him. good.
‘ how much of what’s happened have you known about beforehand? how much could’ve been avoided? ’ prentiss’ attack. the thing that had taken tim’s place, dead and gone but the memory still burns. the looming threat of unknowing in the distance. all of it, two years’ worth of catastrophes under her watch and his, condensed into tapestatic heavy behind her voice — she wants answers, wants them so badly it hurts. ‘ why? what do you gain from all of this, elias? come on, tell me. ’