[He grabs her arm and it's like a wave of anger, more potent than she's ever experienced before, and there's a part of her that knows he has her best interests in mind — she trusts him, he's her friend, they've been through so much together — but those thoughts are drowned out but another voice. An insidious, cruel thing that reminds her of when it had been a different hand, when Lotor had tried so gently to take her hand even as he tried to convince her that the blood staining them had been necessary. As if they could just go back to the way it had been, only dobashes before when she'd been blissfully ignorant and happy.
(It made her sick to think of how happy she'd been. Shame at how she'd so looked forward to spending time working on the Sincline ships. Spending time with him. Everyone had been willing enough to write off her infatuation as the fault of Lotor for manipulating her,or at least pretend that it didn't happen at all, but she could not so easily forgive herself. The rest of them didn't know how much she'd relished those moments, not just because of infatuation but because she relished feeling important and needed and useful; like there was a spot in the universe carved out just for her. Had Keith not found Romelle and the rest of the colony, she wondered if she'd still be cozied up and helping a murderer)
So it's with more than a little rancor that she yanks her arm away, hard enough that she stumbles backwards a step, her voice fragile, but more with anger than sorrow,]
Don't touch me.
[At least she didn't throw him into the ground (yet). It's almost dizzying, trying to keep a hold on herself, to see clearly without the hints of red at the edge of her vision, and it's all she can do to clench her jaw, pulling at the smallest thread of rationality that she still had left,]
Just. Go by yourself. You don't need to pretend to be concerned over me.
[Okay so maybe that thread hadn't been so rational.]
no subject
(It made her sick to think of how happy she'd been. Shame at how she'd so looked forward to spending time working on the Sincline ships. Spending time with him. Everyone had been willing enough to write off her infatuation as the fault of Lotor for manipulating her,or at least pretend that it didn't happen at all, but she could not so easily forgive herself. The rest of them didn't know how much she'd relished those moments, not just because of infatuation but because she relished feeling important and needed and useful; like there was a spot in the universe carved out just for her. Had Keith not found Romelle and the rest of the colony, she wondered if she'd still be cozied up and helping a murderer)
So it's with more than a little rancor that she yanks her arm away, hard enough that she stumbles backwards a step, her voice fragile, but more with anger than sorrow,]
Don't touch me.
[At least she didn't throw him into the ground
(yet). It's almost dizzying, trying to keep a hold on herself, to see clearly without the hints of red at the edge of her vision, and it's all she can do to clench her jaw, pulling at the smallest thread of rationality that she still had left,]Just. Go by yourself. You don't need to pretend to be concerned over me.
[Okay so maybe that thread hadn't been so rational.]