[As he approaches her, the glass trembles in midair. She has just enough presence of mind to put it down on the nearest surface, because when he holds his withered hand out towards her she forgets everything else in the world.]
[The last time she felt a true physical reaction was when she accidentally possessed Steve. That's her most recent memory of sweat on her brow, tension in her jaw, tight shoulders ready to push her towards an escape. There's nothing to ground her in herself now. It's in moments like these that she feels the least real, the most broken. Komaeda reaches for her and she can feel the pain in her heart that once upon a time would have been connected to a tremor in her lip or the clench of her teeth.]
[None of those are accessible to her now. Instead, the border of her form shudders, dissolving still further at the edges. The wisps blow towards him in an invisible wind. She thinks about falling into him and disappearing along the way. Falling into and falling through.]
[She hates this. She hates seeing him hurt. She hates caring. God, she hates it. She hates the way her voice sounds, shaky with emotion.]
I don't want to hurt you. Somebody already hurt you, I want — I'm supposed to help.
no subject
[The last time she felt a true physical reaction was when she accidentally possessed Steve. That's her most recent memory of sweat on her brow, tension in her jaw, tight shoulders ready to push her towards an escape. There's nothing to ground her in herself now. It's in moments like these that she feels the least real, the most broken. Komaeda reaches for her and she can feel the pain in her heart that once upon a time would have been connected to a tremor in her lip or the clench of her teeth.]
[None of those are accessible to her now. Instead, the border of her form shudders, dissolving still further at the edges. The wisps blow towards him in an invisible wind. She thinks about falling into him and disappearing along the way. Falling into and falling through.]
[She hates this. She hates seeing him hurt. She hates caring. God, she hates it. She hates the way her voice sounds, shaky with emotion.]
I don't want to hurt you. Somebody already hurt you, I want — I'm supposed to help.