[The unruffled calm is jarring to Ben, too, not because his Riddick is excitable but because he wouldn't push back, he wouldn't counter, he wouldn't be a threat. Would he? Would he?
Wouldn't she? Didn't she?
Anya is crying, and he knows the Lady loves him, he knows that, which is why he would do this at all, why he would keep her from being turned, keep her from being a nomlie, but she couldn't, could she, she's stronger than that, she's so strong and she loves him so much...
He doesn't reply, not with words; there is a sound ripped from his throat, fractured between frustration, denial, and despair, but he lets go. He lets go of Anya completely and turns on Riddick instead, on the doubt his words wedge into Ben's already unsteady thoughts.
As always - always - he reaches for his opponent's wrist first, blurring to him but wild, out of control, barely held within the constraint of his training.]
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Wouldn't she? Didn't she?
Anya is crying, and he knows the Lady loves him, he knows that, which is why he would do this at all, why he would keep her from being turned, keep her from being a nomlie, but she couldn't, could she, she's stronger than that, she's so strong and she loves him so much...
He doesn't reply, not with words; there is a sound ripped from his throat, fractured between frustration, denial, and despair, but he lets go. He lets go of Anya completely and turns on Riddick instead, on the doubt his words wedge into Ben's already unsteady thoughts.
As always - always - he reaches for his opponent's wrist first, blurring to him but wild, out of control, barely held within the constraint of his training.]