Anya Lehnsherr | Earth 97400 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fridgetothefire) wrote2015-06-28 08:49 pm
fridgetothefire) wrote2015-06-28 08:49 pm
074 ☣ Snicker-snack
[Public video]
[The post comes thirty, maybe forty-five minutes after Kara's. Even with the major broken bones and butchery repaired, from just the shoulders up, Anya looks an absolute wreck. She has a swollen, mottled lump at her temple, ugly purple dripping under her skin like a watercolor stormcloud. Her throat is bruised too, the wide brumous darkness there slashed through with line of red lightning, gleaming and raw rather than simple rusting scab, where she thrashed against the rough iron wire binding her neck. Her mouth has a dab of blood that wasn't all washed away, her lip ragged where she chomped partway through it. Her hair is a sweat-matted mess. Most of all, though, is the look in her eye, an unhinged lurching snarl.]
This. Is done. Now. This thing, with Dean, it's me and him, and we are square. Whatever private wars you've got to settle, I don't care, but any one of you touches him in my name - no vengeance. None.
Or I will take it out of your fucking hide.
[She is not entirely sane right now. And she is not even remotely fucking around. The feed cuts out. And then, fifteen seconds later, still broadcast to everyone.]
Including you.
[Private to Ricki]
[Slumped, quieter]
...except you, I guess. Sorry.
But please don't.
[Private to Stiles]
[Also quiet, eyes downcast, exhausted.]
If he can't be bothered to tell you, I think he thought I was the admiral. That he could get free, save the people here. I know you have to do something, I know you'll do. Whatever you decide is best.
But I'd like to be. Informed.
[Private to Iris]
Thank you.
[Infirmary spam]
[She stays there about thirty-six hours, too worn out to do very much, letting the minor surface wounds that didn't get mended with magic stay cleaned and bandaged and iced. She'll see visitors if they come, will be wan and weary but lucid, without the vicious freneticism of the immediate aftermath. After that, she can't stand it any longer despite the advantages, retreats to the sanctuary of her cabin.]
[The post comes thirty, maybe forty-five minutes after Kara's. Even with the major broken bones and butchery repaired, from just the shoulders up, Anya looks an absolute wreck. She has a swollen, mottled lump at her temple, ugly purple dripping under her skin like a watercolor stormcloud. Her throat is bruised too, the wide brumous darkness there slashed through with line of red lightning, gleaming and raw rather than simple rusting scab, where she thrashed against the rough iron wire binding her neck. Her mouth has a dab of blood that wasn't all washed away, her lip ragged where she chomped partway through it. Her hair is a sweat-matted mess. Most of all, though, is the look in her eye, an unhinged lurching snarl.]
This. Is done. Now. This thing, with Dean, it's me and him, and we are square. Whatever private wars you've got to settle, I don't care, but any one of you touches him in my name - no vengeance. None.
Or I will take it out of your fucking hide.
[She is not entirely sane right now. And she is not even remotely fucking around. The feed cuts out. And then, fifteen seconds later, still broadcast to everyone.]
Including you.
[Private to Ricki]
[Slumped, quieter]
...except you, I guess. Sorry.
But please don't.
[Private to Stiles]
[Also quiet, eyes downcast, exhausted.]
If he can't be bothered to tell you, I think he thought I was the admiral. That he could get free, save the people here. I know you have to do something, I know you'll do. Whatever you decide is best.
But I'd like to be. Informed.
[Private to Iris]
Thank you.
[Infirmary spam]
[She stays there about thirty-six hours, too worn out to do very much, letting the minor surface wounds that didn't get mended with magic stay cleaned and bandaged and iced. She'll see visitors if they come, will be wan and weary but lucid, without the vicious freneticism of the immediate aftermath. After that, she can't stand it any longer despite the advantages, retreats to the sanctuary of her cabin.]
Video
[No. No, that's not fair, and it's clear in the way her face crumples.] I'm sorry. I'm... [I'm tearing myself apart inside and I don't know how to stop.]
Video
[Yes.]
Video
Video
[Tonight, and every night, being on the barge. Maybe it shouldn't, but it matters.]
I'm sorry.
Video
Video/private
Video/private
You had to pick the one thing I couldn't argue with, huh? [The words are still strained, but there's a wry humour at the edges]
Video/private
[Something like the same tone; at least aspiring to it.]
I wouldn't - I wouldn't have held back for less, Jean.
[And then very earnest, very small. Please don't be mad.]
Video/private
And then she wonders - if Morgana had attacked her, for whatever reason, would she have called on someone else to destroy her?
Something shift in her features, from reluctant comprehension to aching empathy.]
Okay. [It hurts, but she can accept it.]
...Is anyone else arguing?
Video/private
[There's a crisp, bare-toothed savagery under the words, easily summoned. She bites it back, barely.]
Some questions.
[You really mean that from at least three of her boys, so far. She means it. She means it with everything she is. But as long as they listen.]
Video/private
I...can help, if someone tries.
Video/private
Thank you.
Video/private
She knows, deep in her bones, that love is stronger than hate.]
Always.
Video/private