[ There's a moment where Max... She doesn't quite forget she's a monster. But she forgets she can protect herself. Defend herself. That she's not a weak little girl, like her stepfather would say, when the young man whose features superficially resemble Billy girts his teeth at her. Removes a knife from his belt, looks at her like he's going to follow through on his earlier threat. It doesn't help that her eyes, which have been open for so long, are watering. Her already blurry vision is shot, and in her disorientation and confusion—she's a weak little girl in over her head. Just that, just breakable.
So in that mindset, it's no wonder that the moment a vine shoots past her, she gasps. Her arms can't feel goosebumps anymore, but the scales find a similar sensation regardless, one that's so incredibly cold.
The park's fenced in. They're alongside that, on the sidewalk. Max, remembering the feel of the vines at her wrists and armpits, curling around her ankle, squeezing her neck—she stumbles back into it with a clang, just as she watches the young man she was luring to his doom who reminds her vaguely of her deceased brother choke and gasp, like she once had. Her claws grope blindly for the fence, clattering against it, and she looks not in the direction of her prey but where the threat is coming from, eyes wide and dazed.
The stature isn't right. Nor the height. Nothing is, but it's all shapes and vague colors, and Max's brain just screams: DANGER.
And wouldn't you know it, her body responds, all the cold replaced with warm burning hot, rising from her stomach up her esophagus, throat glowing brightly.
Max is, in a moment where she is not standing on the streets of Bavan, mere seconds away from unleashing her fire on Basil. ]
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timeasmymeasure
cw: ptsd, flashbacks, mentions of past abuse
Date: 2023-07-29 04:01 am (UTC)So in that mindset, it's no wonder that the moment a vine shoots past her, she gasps. Her arms can't feel goosebumps anymore, but the scales find a similar sensation regardless, one that's so incredibly cold.
The park's fenced in. They're alongside that, on the sidewalk. Max, remembering the feel of the vines at her wrists and armpits, curling around her ankle, squeezing her neck—she stumbles back into it with a clang, just as she watches the young man she was luring to his doom who reminds her vaguely of her deceased brother choke and gasp, like she once had. Her claws grope blindly for the fence, clattering against it, and she looks not in the direction of her prey but where the threat is coming from, eyes wide and dazed.
The stature isn't right. Nor the height. Nothing is, but it's all shapes and vague colors, and Max's brain just screams: DANGER.
And wouldn't you know it, her body responds, all the cold replaced with warm burning hot, rising from her stomach up her esophagus, throat glowing brightly.
Max is, in a moment where she is not standing on the streets of Bavan, mere seconds away from unleashing her fire on Basil. ]