❰❰ CARRY ❱❱ he protecc . . .
she nearly screams. the sound is swallowed with great effort, yet still a choked yelp forces its way out of poor engineer's throat in clear surprise as deft fingers practically claw at the bioweapon's arms in an instinctual bid for stability the second she is lifted off the ground, regardless of how redundant the action. ( there is no escape, she thinks, from the hold of this behemoth unless he wills it. for better or worse. )
a prideful phoenix knows not what is more humiliating : to awkwardly hobble around a city invested with zombies who would love to chomp her other leg too, or be treated akin damsel in distress by a creature that could rightly crush her bones with the same hands that seem capable of a surprising amount of care. should crush them, truthfully. how had they even gotten here ? she was there every step of the way, yet still it is a baffling notion, to linger in the shadow of an apex predator and not be made prey.
though long past questioning the intelligence of this man-made weapon, there comes a certain wonder at how well he judges his own strength. is it trained — injected — like so much else of him, or something learned ? ( how much conscious effort does it take to keep her unharmed ? )
primal instincts 'neath your skin howl : there is danger here ! along your spine it writhes and twists, a constant companion refusing to settle. get away, it demands, and yet the fuel it tries to pour onto the pyre of your terror meets a cold rationality that has stubbornly made its home in your marrow, soothing impulsive flames. there is danger here. but where isn't ?
she has little appreciation for being handled as though figurine of porcelain liable to break at the lightest touch, but little bird has to concede : that must be what she is, to one like him. it does not suit her, to be handled so delicately. the suggestion of fragility meets a blazing pride and a deep-seated discomfort wakes, but it is not enough to make her a fool.
if there is any notion of safety to be had in this hellscape of mindless beasts and burning buildings, it is right here : the arms of the most dangerous thing prowling ruined city. a trickle of terror continues to simmer — what if he changes his mind ? — but the thought is pushed aside in favor of properly settling into a most unexpected companion's hold. ( pulls herself a little higher; seated more than cradled, dispelling dreadful sense of helplessness, if only barely. )
❛ I can still walk, ❜ stubborn and prideful, in the wake of a huff, but no more bite than a teething pup. darling phoenix cannot rid herself of the tension coursing through every inch of an exhausted body, and perhaps the furrow of her brow in combination with an almost childish pout makes for a thankless visage, but it stands in direct contention of the way she nearly melts into dear weapon's secure hold; how obvious the attempt at comfort is.
she cannot turn her back on the world — not this one — but still a weary body angles itself inwards, lightly curling into the space between a broad chest and strong arm, as though it could hide a tired bird from all things terrible.
and perhaps for just a while, it will.
— PHYSICAL PROMPTS. / @bioweapontm
