[ the dark side comes for him, but it reaches her through the bond. it feels not unlike quicksand, swirling and shifting around her feet until it slides atop them and settles around her ankles. it's a slow, steadily consuming thing, much like the swelling confusion and dread that climbs up the back of her throat as he continues.
there's a thinly restrained fury in his voice, in how he holds himself, that puts her on her guard even though she hears no crime to speak of in what he relays. nothing that gives context to his feelings. in fact, for a brief instant, she almost — smiles? he has called finn by his name — but it fades back into a look of chagrin before it fully forms.
so all she can do is give him the truth. ]
Nothing.
[ it's vehement and immediate, and she searches his face with such wild confusion that there's simply no mistaking it for deception. ]
What are you talking about?
[ because she can't imagine. she's surprised, then, to find that her jaw is clenched, tight with some emotion that does not belong to her. it loosens with a quick glance down of recognition, but then her eyes catch the glint of something else in his hand.
she can feel him squeezing it, sense his intent. he's one wrong word from charging. fear rises in her like a fever, sudden and disorienting. she can feel her gut tighten with the urge to defend herself already. a flood of adrenaline. she had told no one where she had gone, where to find her. she had trusted him. she had found somewhere isolated, somewhere private, and—
no, that's the dark. she dismisses its influence with a slight tick of her chin. if it dictates them both, there's no telling where they will end up here. she draws a deep breath, centering herself, and finds his gaze. it hurts to hold it because she can see hatred there. for her, yes. there's no doubt now, even if she still can't grasp why. it's not as though finn had poisoned him against her. ]
Put that away. [ the cadence of her voice slows to something serene and certain. she won't let this escalate. ] I'm not going to fight you.
no subject
there's a thinly restrained fury in his voice, in how he holds himself, that puts her on her guard even though she hears no crime to speak of in what he relays. nothing that gives context to his feelings. in fact, for a brief instant, she almost — smiles? he has called finn by his name — but it fades back into a look of chagrin before it fully forms.
so all she can do is give him the truth. ]
Nothing.
[ it's vehement and immediate, and she searches his face with such wild confusion that there's simply no mistaking it for deception. ]
What are you talking about?
[ because she can't imagine. she's surprised, then, to find that her jaw is clenched, tight with some emotion that does not belong to her. it loosens with a quick glance down of recognition, but then her eyes catch the glint of something else in his hand.
she can feel him squeezing it, sense his intent. he's one wrong word from charging. fear rises in her like a fever, sudden and disorienting. she can feel her gut tighten with the urge to defend herself already. a flood of adrenaline. she had told no one where she had gone, where to find her. she had trusted him. she had found somewhere isolated, somewhere private, and—
no, that's the dark. she dismisses its influence with a slight tick of her chin. if it dictates them both, there's no telling where they will end up here. she draws a deep breath, centering herself, and finds his gaze. it hurts to hold it because she can see hatred there. for her, yes. there's no doubt now, even if she still can't grasp why. it's not as though finn had poisoned him against her. ]
Put that away. [ the cadence of her voice slows to something serene and certain. she won't let this escalate. ] I'm not going to fight you.