hollowchild | IC Inbox

Kind of.

[the corners of her mouth turn up, and it's meant to be a smile, but it's utterly devoid of humor or even the wry sort of brittle acceptance with which sophie generally takes horrors. he's seen sophie driven to her knees in despair once before, in her nightmare. she's not quite there yet, but she's not far from it, either.]

She intends to burn me alive, to fuel her passage back to the castle with my flesh and bones. But I won't burn for her. Violet will find me in the oven, and bring me clothes, and then I'll go and try to kill my brothers.

Manfred's spear is called Cursebreaker, because no magic can stand against it. That's what he puts through me, and through Francescu. But as he does, I'll bend back, I'll slit his throat.

Manfred's the only one who hasn't betrayed me yet, and he will.

[then she snaps her mouth shut, takes a breath and makes an obvious effort to patch the cracks in her mask, because he's not okay either and she can't be that weak.]

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--you look like you have enough.

[she reaches out a hand, tentative and slow.]

[Isaac just listens to her quietly, nodding where he thinks it's appropriate- though he doesn't speak immediately when she cuts herself off, his gaze back on the grass that he's still pulling out of the ground. Fidgeting.]

It's fine. That- it really blows. Being hurt like that, I'm sorry. [He takes a deep breath. And he doesn't really know how to proceed with an arrangement like that, not really.]

You live through it? The spear?

I think we all do. Manfred pulls Cursebreaker out, which means Francescu can heal them both. It stopped before I saw it happen.

[because she was on the ground, vomiting up the strange tainted ichor that passes for her blood. all the same, she's sure that no one will heal her.]

We were all older. I don't know how much. Years. I never wanted to know.

[Isaac nods, pulling his knees up to his chin and wrapping his arms around his legs.]

It's good, though. If you live that long. Past the devil, you know? You just saw bad things, but- there might be good things too, in the years you didn't see.

Is it?

[the memory is still immediate in her mind, the smell of her hair as it burnt away, the long hours in the fire that withered her shape, the exquisite agony of manfred's spear stabbing through her, rendering her body impotent against it, the bright, tainted satisfaction as his skin gave beneath her blade. those years made her a monster, she's rather sure of it.

he doesn't understand what it is to burn. you could show him. you could make him understand.

the voice is sweet, like love and honey and ice cream, and it must be in her head because isaac doesn't startle, doesn't look around. the devil can't be here, he can't.

jump from the cliff, dear.

but she is not a monster yet. she squeezes her eyes shut, pressing her forehead hard to her knees.]

Maybe. I suppose it isn't entirely out of the question.

[Isaac, for his part, doesn't seem to notice the difference in her, any sort of shift in her posture, her tone, is completely overlooked. So he nods, trying a wry smile.]

...I think it is. And even if it's not, then you have... here, I guess. You've got me.

[it's odd, that he doesn't notice. she's not hiding her struggle as well as she should be, and she knows it. perhaps he'd ignore that, pretend it isn't happening, but overlooking it entirely is something else. she looks up at him, staying curled small, trying to shove the tempting voice and the stupefying sense of despair into the back of her mind. she needs to concentrate.]

I do have here, and you. That's not nothing. Not at all.

You haven't been sleeping either, have you.

[Isaac looks surprised at the question, glancing up at her, before twisting his fingers and shrugging.]

I... no. Not exactly.

[He's not sure if he should tell her why or just try to drop it. He feels like such a child, but what can he do?]

We're all in the same boat, though. This is nothing special.

I'm not so lost in my head that my eyes have stopped working, Isaac.

[it's gentle, though. she already knows something's really wrong, there's no extra harm in telling it.]

Well, neither am I.

[It's a little defensive, a little accusatory, and he immediately feels bad about it, so he recoils a little into himself, fingers tightening.]

-sorry. I just... it's not usually this bad. I'm fine being in our housing, usually, if the window's open, but now it's like- every hallway, every room, i can't- [Isaac shakes his head.] -it's stupid. No, I'm not sleeping. Same as everyone.

[funnily, that's what pulls her out of herself a little, brings some inflection back into her voice.]

It's not stupid. Inconvenient, deeply unsettling, downright annoying, yes. I close my eyes in a place where the air's not moving and I think I'm burning.

It's not stupid.

[Isaac turns to look at her- really look at her, his mouth set in a thin line.]

I'm better than this.

Better than what? Fear? Emotion?

You're not being weak.

Better than- I don't know, insomnia. Nightmares.

[Trying to stay calm.]

-panicking. Because the windows aren't big enough and the door is halfway shut. I left my- [and this makes him laugh, a little hysterically] -I left my clothes in the laundromat because I couldn't go downstairs to get them.

[she reaches out and puts a hand on his, light and easy to shake off. her fingers are cold and shaking a little, that tremble that comes from fear and exhaustion.

jump from the cliff, dear. he's already warm, show him what it is to burn. a flash of red in the corner of her eye. she digs the nails of her other hand hard into her palm.]

This isn't...this isn't us. It's not this bad on its own. Something's happening again. There's not--

[show him, my beautiful sophie. show him show him show him

her nails punch through her skin, and she curls up smaller.]

It's not weakness. We just...we just have to hold on to what's real. Somehow. I can go get your clothes. In a bit.

[Isaac looks up at her quite suddenly, his brows knitting together as he watches her move, watches her curl into herself, and he pulls his arm back from her grip, moving back in the grass a little.]

...you're bleeding.

[It's just a hushed whisper, as if he didn't hear anything else.]

[she looks down at her hand in confusion, at the little wells of black threaded with red and gold welling in her palm. slowly, she uncurls enough to take her handkerchief from her pocket, presses it into her palm with the nails that just made her bleed in the first place.

you're scaring him. your blood--your abomination frightens him, and he doesn't even know the half of it, does he.

she backs away, pressing into the tree as though she could curl small enough to disappear]

Oh.

It doesn't matter, it's nothing. I didn't even realize.

Sophie...

[Isaac is still edging away from her, eying her with the slightest bit of apprehension.]

...what's going on? You're not- you're not yourself.

[he's wrong, you know. you are yourself, my beautiful girl. you've seen what you really are. abomination. show him what it is to burn.

she only curls up tighter, as though she could press herself into the tree, curling her hand to her chest to hide the evidence of her taint, and shakes her head. her voice comes out small, pleading. he's going to abandon her too.]

The same thing that's happening to everyone. I promised you, Isaac. That I wouldn't hurt you.

[but she can't deny that she's not acting herself.]

I know, I just...

[Isaac doesn't know how to treat her, how to regard her when she's like this. He trusts her, he knows he does... doesn't he?

There's a pause, and he takes a deep breath, glancing down toward the grass.]

...you still promise that?

[she probably shouldn't. she can still feel the give of manfred's arteries beneath her blade. there's red in her veins where there should be none.

my beautiful, filthy abomination. jump from the cliff, dear.

no. she won't. not to the only people who still care.]

I still promise.

[He nods slowly, but he does seem a little relieved at that, his shoulders relaxing a fraction.]

...me too. I mean- for you.

I know.

[she believes because she has to, because the last vestiges of her sanity are wrapped up in holding on to herself for these few people who matter, even if there's a whisper in the back of her mind that he doubted, that he'll turn against her too.]

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