Out of how many mutants, compared to how many humans?
[ mutants are not, by definition, kinder.
he's so unhappy and she has to swallow and push that unhappiness away from herself because she might otherwise drown in it, or at least that's how it feels like.
( the thought of drowning is uncomfortable — it's something she connects with morgoth in more ways than one. she could have drowned in his mind even when they were friendly, and he actually made her live through drowning in an ocean of her own blood while on arima.
she never wants to feel like that again. )
she also moves to stand. ] Erik — [ one hand reaching out, but not connecting with his arm. ] You're right. I do want to help all of them.
[ jaw squaring. ] I'd rather do it with you than fighting against you.
[ Cassandra reaches and Erik draws his arm back, away, what might otherwise have been a subtle aversion to touch amplified by the loose suspension in his shoulders.
It’s polite, as get back mothafucka you don’t know me like thats go
but still caustic in a narrow cut at his eyes and a flinch at his nose. Out of how many.
It’s not even that he thinks she’s wrong. He’s just drunk and tired and morose, slouched like the world’s most shambled male mannequin before her bureau. ]
[ his arm draws away, and anderson's hand falls to her side. a moment later, she falls into parade rest (back straight, shoulders back, chin lifted), message received loud and clear.
she doesn't want to fight him, but not for the reasons he seems to think she doesn't. maybe when he's less drunk and tired, he'll figure that out. maybe he won't. the state he's in, she's not certain she wants to try and explain it, or that he'd even listen. ]
[ He realizes a (sluggish) moment later that goodnight is goodbye, and that she has effectively told him that it’s time for him to leave, and that he has already agreed. The only thing for him to do, then, is to sigh at her like a dog with a cat in his bed and sidestep away for the door. ]
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[ mutants are not, by definition, kinder.
he's so unhappy and she has to swallow and push that unhappiness away from herself because she might otherwise drown in it, or at least that's how it feels like.
( the thought of drowning is uncomfortable — it's something she connects with morgoth in more ways than one. she could have drowned in his mind even when they were friendly, and he actually made her live through drowning in an ocean of her own blood while on arima.
she never wants to feel like that again. )
she also moves to stand. ] Erik — [ one hand reaching out, but not connecting with his arm. ] You're right. I do want to help all of them.
[ jaw squaring. ] I'd rather do it with you than fighting against you.
no subject
It’s polite, as get back mothafucka you don’t know me like thats go
but still caustic in a narrow cut at his eyes and a flinch at his nose. Out of how many.
It’s not even that he thinks she’s wrong. He’s just drunk and tired and morose, slouched like the world’s most shambled male mannequin before her bureau. ]
I wouldn’t want to fight me either.
[ He says so quietly.
(Humble, charming, noble: Magneto. ) ]
no subject
she doesn't want to fight him, but not for the reasons he seems to think she doesn't. maybe when he's less drunk and tired, he'll figure that out. maybe he won't. the state he's in, she's not certain she wants to try and explain it, or that he'd even listen. ]
Goodnight, Erik.
no subject
Goodnight.
[ He realizes a (sluggish) moment later that goodnight is goodbye, and that she has effectively told him that it’s time for him to leave, and that he has already agreed. The only thing for him to do, then, is to sigh at her like a dog with a cat in his bed and sidestep away for the door. ]