#g....od

[suresha]

THOR...  HOW  DARE....  EXCEPT... except  im  weak.

[justicecaballer]

sometimes when theyre embracing the weight of his body will feel too familiar; she expects the heat of his blood to soak through her shirt and she goes rigid. he asks her whats wrong but her tongue is leaden and her mouth dry. all she can do is shake and try to calm down - its not the first death shes witnessed in close quarters, so why should she be reacting this way? she still has dreams about the night she lost her eye - can still feel the fingers in her socket and the pop that severed the cord to her brain, and she wakes up with a dull throbbing behind her eyelid - but she can deal with that. when the sound of bullets ring in her ears from the days of her past during the height of her terrorism, she is not afraid, and the sight of blood does not disturb her stomach. but when she wakes up clawing at the sheets, the last image imprinted in her mind that of his pained face as he used his own body to block her from harm, it seems worse, so much worse.

which is ridiculous. its not even happening to her.

but even that knowledge does not lessen her grip on him when he wakes up and asks her, bleary eyed and half-conscious, if shes alright. her fingers dig into his skin and it hurts, she knows it has to hurt, but aside from an initial grunt, he doesnt say a word.

she thinks, sometimes, about how he is not hers, not really, not the man that she met during the game in the second world, and it gives her a headache - she was not made for that type of circuit, those thoughts of authenticity versus replication, and quite frankly, she does not want to face the implications of those lines of reasoning.