shuxjing replied to your post: shuxjing replied to your post:Post-war...
she’s shakingly rubbing his hands while repeating ‘it’s okay, i’m okay. /you’re/ okay ’ with a bloodied smile and he just nods even thought they both know how wrong her words are
ACTUALLY i've had this little unfinished piece gathering dust in one of my google docs for some time now and it seem p appropriate at the mo', so pls take it as proof of my ability to be an asshole :p
She must have noticed something about the way he was shaking or breathing, because she brought a hand to his face and slowly stroked little circles on his cheek, not realizing, or perhaps too far gone to notice, that she was rubbing a wet red mark, like a scar but deeper, there. A muscle in his jaw twitched. A rust tinted bubble popped on her lips when she spoke next, a miracle in itself as the blood trickled quietly from her open mouth. Still worrying about him, even then. Ridiculous.
“Shhhhh, it’s going to be okay. Don’t worry.”
But it wasn’t. She was lying to him to make him feel better. He thought that was his job. They were swapping all kinds of things today, weren’t they: the comforted and the grievously injured, the one spinning stories of hope to cover up their inevitable violent demise and the one who wanted so desperately to believe them. They had even swapped blood he noted, pulling her closer and listening to her laboured breathing, their cheeks pressed together, shaking together.
There were strange little heaving sounds coming from his throat, and he tried to hold them back, pulling away from her slightly and covering his mouth, he really did, but breathing was coming more difficult at this point, as if it had been he who’d gotten his windpipe nearly crushed under the devil’s grip. They got louder as he trailed his fingers, feather light, over the bruises on her throat, then over the cold of her jaw. Her eyes were wide, and they became louder still, and he realized they were sobs, and this was grief, and in her last moments she was worried about him, and he needed to get a hold of himself, damn it!
“It’s alright, Lavi, really, you’ll be able to go on without me. That’s what you’ve been training for all along anyway. Please.”
Mourning the living he tries to stifle it with talk. He fails. Frail fingers pat his face, calmer than he could ever hope to be. Her fingers on his skin are feather-light touches, like butterflies, because she hasn't the strength for anything else.
"You're okay..."
He isn't.
“I’m okay, see? No one in my family is dead, our family. My world is safe. This is all I wanted.”
For the smallest moment, everything freezes. Her lips part silently as her gaze remains locked on the Finder, everything turning to white noise in her ears as her heart pounds. Then, as torturous as the few seconds were, Emma longs for them as the horrid truth slams into her.
Already she's crying, features twisting in agony as she crumples to the ground and clings to Certus with a vice grip around his shoulders. She sobs, shoulders heaving as her chest squeezes into itself and she struggles to breathe.
Their first meeting all those years ago; how she'd finally gotten Lena to smile the faintest amount even before she was released.
She curls into herself, gasping and wheezes as spots dance in her vision and pain rips through her.
Watching how excited she got learning everything from Jerry; learning how stubborn she was when she refused to do so herself.
Fingers bury in her hair and dig into her scalp painfully as she doubles over, eyes squeezed shut as she wheezes for air and acts as if she can press into herself tight enough to escape reality.
Helping her keep their idiot friends in line and knowing to get them distracted when they notice both of them emerging from her room with the younger's eyes red and pink-rimmed.
Her breathes are rapid but shallow, and she doesn't even notice Certus' whines of worry and sadness as he hopelessly nuzzles against her back.
The agonizing worry during her fight with the Level Three; the inexplicable relief that had her crying when she woke.
She gasps, mouth staying open as all she does is shake violently in silence.
Blood-boiling anger at the site of Lvellier; defending her from him and being defended from him. Being forced to stay back during the invasion as she had during the Ark and—
Legs to her chest and arms around her knees, face resting within them as her dark hair spills away from her back and surrounds her like a dark cape. Her gaze is hooded, blank, idly falling upon the window from her place resting against the coldness of her wall. Her brow furrows lightly and her fingers tighten, nails digging into her skin as her vision blurs.
Emma swallows hard, lips starting to quiver as tears spill down her cheeks. She's yet to be back for even a week, but even with the bruises from her restraints healed the memories still haunt her every thought. He's gone, after all, and the Order broke their unspoken promise to her.
After her rampage, even if she'd been kept under CROW supervision around the clock, she'd never gone near the Samaritan Projects or just any labs while she was still at the American Branch. When she and Cole had gone to the European Branch, she thought that was the end of it.
She's always expected the worst of the Order, but...
"Sing me to sleep," the words spill from her lips without a thought, as if the melody is any level of effective against the memories filling her mind. Her chest starts to heave and her shoulders quake for the countless time, but once again she ignores it and presses on. "Sing me to sleep,
"And then leave me alone;
don't try to wake me in the morning,
"'Cause I will be gone,
"Don't feel bad for me, I want you to know...
"Deep in the cell of my heart,
I will feel so glad to go,
"Sing me to sleep,
"Sing me to—"
She buries her face into her arms and squeezes herself into a smaller ball, the only sound filling the air of her room being her own quiet sobs.
'...Sing me to sleep,
'I don't want to wake up
on my own anymore,
'Sing to me...
'S i n g t o m e...'
//...If I knew how to Lena (and other DGM canon characters) properly I would most definitely write a fic focusing on the development between her and Emma and all the influences their sisterhood has/would have on canon events and character development =0=/
