Some of her anger ebbs when she's hit with that relief. He's just trying to protect her, as frustrated and helpless as she feels. But really, this is nothing new, right? Her hands were tied in the sim, with most of the monsters she encountered, even with figuring out why the hell she's been dragged to New Amsterdam in the first place. Why shouldn't this be an extension of that?
It's getting harder and harder to tell herself that this is a dream she has control over. Her emotions are too tangled and messy to be rational about it, and soon enough all she can focus on is keeping up with Ian's longer strides, looking for a path out. She doesn't have much luck. Every time she thinks she sees a promising alleyway, the buildings seem to creep towards each other, blocking their escape.
They turn another corner, what feels like the millionth, and Kyna nearly skids right into one of the aliens, hulking and so terrifying her blood instantly runs cold. Kyna barely has time to think before it's lunging at them. She doesn't have time to process anything but Ian's hand in hers, all-encompassing panic, and a rush of desperate protectiveness.
She doesn't do it consciously, but before she can duck away, the thing's arm passes through them—both of them—and the only reason she realizes what's happened is the glow of her chest.
no subject
It's getting harder and harder to tell herself that this is a dream she has control over. Her emotions are too tangled and messy to be rational about it, and soon enough all she can focus on is keeping up with Ian's longer strides, looking for a path out. She doesn't have much luck. Every time she thinks she sees a promising alleyway, the buildings seem to creep towards each other, blocking their escape.
They turn another corner, what feels like the millionth, and Kyna nearly skids right into one of the aliens, hulking and so terrifying her blood instantly runs cold. Kyna barely has time to think before it's lunging at them. She doesn't have time to process anything but Ian's hand in hers, all-encompassing panic, and a rush of desperate protectiveness.
She doesn't do it consciously, but before she can duck away, the thing's arm passes through them—both of them—and the only reason she realizes what's happened is the glow of her chest.
"Fuck fuck fuck."