#eafoot

[her-phoenix-heart-blog]

@electricelle, @eafoot

Nathan was dead. 

All it had taken was her walking away, caught up in her internal chaos. Her mind was a bitter mesh of questions and blame. Peter had killed those innocent people, Sylar was at fault for the explosion. 

And the kid, she--

Sylar should have stopped, but like the monster he was, he had made sure there was nothing to bring back. It was what it was. Nathan: she took blame for, he had tried to fill a void, but they were at best only business partners. Familiar in making impossible choices in the external blood in this world. She had thought she had been done with all this when her real parents had died, but....

She was hurting. 

Hurting, and all the while, waiting. Arthur was angry. That boy was his legacy. For a moment, she hadn’t understood which: Nathan or Noah. It was all a wire trap of confusion but it didn’t seem like the distinction mattered. Arthur was immortal now and he had forgotten to preserve his legacy. 

With these deaths, now he was reminded and he blamed her. She didn’t care. She was just waiting for a few things to happen. She knew it was coming. She sat in her (room), blade in her hand. 

Peter was locked up, raving. It would be cruel to wake him up, make him realize what he had done. This stranger in a strange land. The joke was that it wasn’t really Peter, not the one she had become to know. 

It would be cruel to bring him back to cognitive thought but she fully intended to do so. She was just waiting for this night to be over, the mourning over the innocents lost in the blast....

Was just out of reach. 

[electricelle]

@eafoot​

It seemed she could never get anywhere fast enough. The voices blurred altogether now, that image of ruins flashing, white and blinding behind her eyes. There had already been a few unfortunate and rather stupid people, burnt down for trying to keep her from the scene. Safety wasn’t on the forefront of priorities. Besides, Pinehearst was there already gathering remains---and she was feeling sick just thinking of it. 

She found a spot, isolated from the media outlets already worming there way around the edge of the crater, and she waited. The trembling in her hands only stilled when electricity coursed through her veins and towards her targets--- and then she waited some more, staring silently at ahead as she waited for the pieces in the body bag to come back together.

[electricelle]

@eafoot

“My mom told me I should hit you with a frying pan if you ever drop by and no one’s home.”

[justanotherabomination]

@eafoot

  He never gave her a key and even if he had, she’d obviously would’ve kept it on her other...erm....coat. Naturally, she just let herself in---served herself a bowl of cereal and waited.

[justanotherabomination]

@eafoot | cont. Grace turned her gaze ahead and resumed watching the fleeting lives in their flurried rush through the streets. Her hand still in his in a grip that was surprisingly---not bone crushing. She smiled, a mere twitch of the lips. "Humans are so warm."

[eiennihenka-blog]

@eafoot

          “There’s a knife in your back.”

[electricelle]

@eafoot It was always the gentleness that she took notice of, the precursor to the violence to come. She didn't think much of the actual act-- if only he made up his damn mind about it. " I have better things to do."