quality posts from yours truly

you can sleep when you're dead // egocentrictrickster

Instinctively, she knew that she could have kept up her typical routine, but thinking logically was damn near impossible when faced with such a task. And it wasn’t something she enjoyed or wanted to do- she shook with every step she took into the house that had once felt like home, hands twitching and tugging on her sleeves, on the collar of her shirt. Idle hands were indeed a bad sign, and as she sat down she knew that her brother could see right through her. Especially as she had used the door, rather than just having teleported straight into the living room and demanded attention. Shit.

Simply nodding at his response, she had listened to him go into the kitchen, had followed him in and pressed a knife to his throat. All she had to do was slice the tendons there, cut deep enough and take the pocket watch and it would all be done. But, as she pressed deeper, saw the beads of gold flecked blood? She couldn’t press anymore, froze completely and was thrown off, slammed against the counter as a weak cry escaped her, the blade pressed into her palm and slicing it deeper and deeper with all the force Ridge was using against her.

She had had a single chance, and she’d fucked it up. Now Minty was dead and Ridge hated her and she was in pain. In such a situation, there really only one thing to do.

The woman burst into tears. She started to cry big, fat, ugly tears as sobs ripped themselves from her throat and she shook from the intensity of it all, as she shook from the accusatory tone her brother had taken on and from everything that would happen. How Minty was fucked and how she herself would likely become a full time puppet or even be tortured by the grey faces for her failure. Oh god, all she had to do was go through with it, and now everyone she cared about was screwed.

“I-I’m…I’m sorry.” She hiccuped, weakly raising her empty hands, knife on the counter as she gripped the lapels of Ridge’s coat, let out a whimper. Her blood smeared over the dark fabric as she just tried to get closer, as her eyes began to glow bright gold. That’s when she waited for his grip to go slack, pushed him away and went to fumble for the knife, to teleport away and out of this situation. There was no way she could face him, that she could face anyone like this. She had no mask to put on now, was completely vulnerable, exposed and at the mercy of her brother. The once comforting sensation of his magic wrapping around her now felt constricting, and building up the energy necessary to teleport was fucking impossible with the vice grip he had. Damn it, damn it all to hell.

“I didn’t want this, but they made me. They’re going to kill her, Ridge.” She tried to explain, cringing back from his confusion and from his continued anger, flexes her powers as if they were tense muscles, gets ready to use them to teleport away, to escape until she could try again, until she could finish the job. Except…well, her face war far too much like an open book, and seeing as she was still holding the knife? Her intentions were undoubtedly clear. Or, they had been. But she was sniffling still, was still visibly upset and not making any sense, refusing to explain herself.

For someone who had literally just tried to murder her own brother, she was being rather confusing when it came to her desired outcome. What was all of this about?

[ egocentrictrickster ]