[ he didn't deliberately invoke the isle, she knows. nico would never aim that low. ( mal would. but she has no illusions about who she is. ) even so, when he says she may find herself in a position where it isn't an option, all she can think of is the isle: her mother's shrill cries of frustration below while mal sat on her bed, feeling the power roiling inside her, struggling to emerge, knowing if she could only channel it…—and the impenetrable wall against which she slammed again and again.
she goes rigid as if nico had managed to land a hit. she looks away, her jaw set. mal visibly swallows. ] Fine, [ she declares tightly. a familiar wave of her finger and the spell lifts off of her skin like an exhalation. the sword feels heavier in her hand. ]
no subject
she goes rigid as if nico had managed to land a hit. she looks away, her jaw set. mal visibly swallows. ] Fine, [ she declares tightly. a familiar wave of her finger and the spell lifts off of her skin like an exhalation. the sword feels heavier in her hand. ]