The tears streaking through Hinnom's make-up are yellow as the blood on your hands, but habit is hard to break, and it's hard not to look at his distress and feel your pumpbiscuit contract. (He's the same age you and Sipara were, when everything was terrible, and he's a lowblood: that's all that should matter, isn't it?) It's not really being pale to soothe him, you're sure, so you keep your pitch low and warm, the words almost hummed. "We're not running," you say. "My psionics will handle it. Just, ahh.. think of it, okay? Think it at me very hard."
The words make your skin crawl. You don't know the slightest thing about psychics, other than that they're terrifying and you hate them: if it weren't for the definite whine of drones in the air, you'd never risk this. The last time a psychic got in your pan, you nearly died.
But at least if someone is going to be rooting through your pan, it's a wriggler, and Hinnom wants to get out of here just as much as you do.
You take hold of Hinnom's hand, and now this is all getting very uncomfortably pale, but you ignore the way your stomach is twisting and force a smile. "Tell me when you're ready?"
no subject
The tears streaking through Hinnom's make-up are yellow as the blood on your hands, but habit is hard to break, and it's hard not to look at his distress and feel your pumpbiscuit contract. (He's the same age you and Sipara were, when everything was terrible, and he's a lowblood: that's all that should matter, isn't it?) It's not really being pale to soothe him, you're sure, so you keep your pitch low and warm, the words almost hummed. "We're not running," you say. "My psionics will handle it. Just, ahh.. think of it, okay? Think it at me very hard."
The words make your skin crawl. You don't know the slightest thing about psychics, other than that they're terrifying and you hate them: if it weren't for the definite whine of drones in the air, you'd never risk this. The last time a psychic got in your pan, you nearly died.
But at least if someone is going to be rooting through your pan, it's a wriggler, and Hinnom wants to get out of here just as much as you do.
You take hold of Hinnom's hand, and now this is all getting very uncomfortably pale, but you ignore the way your stomach is twisting and force a smile. "Tell me when you're ready?"