[ the feeling is not hers, but it is so like hers that it washes over like a tidal wave, all-consuming. she gasps very quietly, then again with more verve as the true depth of it makes itself known. her hand clenches his to a point nearing—but never quite reaching—pain.
it's so much. her own anger and her own helplessness are toxic bedfellows, returning night after night, and though she's never possessed the same self-loathing as some do, she still indulges a dose from time to time. anger is anger, directed in or directed out. if it's in, well... she can find a way to turn it. change the direction of its flow.
the unfamiliarity, then, is in his acceptance. it's so different, a bright spray of mist on the air, compared to what's otherwise an ocean of overwhelming and compounding unhappiness. she clings to it, and to Lan Wangji's hand, his wrist, his arm. ]
Oh, my god— [ strangled, her already-low voice even lower ] What—you feel this way—?
no subject
it's so much. her own anger and her own helplessness are toxic bedfellows, returning night after night, and though she's never possessed the same self-loathing as some do, she still indulges a dose from time to time. anger is anger, directed in or directed out. if it's in, well... she can find a way to turn it. change the direction of its flow.
the unfamiliarity, then, is in his acceptance. it's so different, a bright spray of mist on the air, compared to what's otherwise an ocean of overwhelming and compounding unhappiness. she clings to it, and to Lan Wangji's hand, his wrist, his arm. ]
Oh, my god— [ strangled, her already-low voice even lower ] What—you feel this way—?