[ in some ways, it's a familiar scene. two children in a cruel world, with no other shelter but each other, finding their safe havens in whatever nooks and crannies would allow them to hide, whispering to one another in the darkness.
but alina had found her escape in bright flowering meadows, the hope of that open space brought her; there is none of that here, cloistered in this closet as she watches through the slats, gritting her teeth every time bone strikes flesh. and as soon as she breathes in, a fool that believes it's done —
the memories shift and fade, a tapestry of every sin this man has committed, woven together into a nightmare. alina starts long before kovacs does, a helpless stride forward to rescue the cowering girl on the floor. the other children would have never shed a tear if she and mal disappeared into ditches, never would have called for help — but this man is more than a bully with his hate in his heart.
he is hatred, made into human flesh. a monster, alina thinks, turning on the family he was meant to love. alina's fists uncurl from where they've blanched, nails biting into her skin, preparing to hurl him away with the heat gathering there — but kovacs moves first, as though he needs to enact revenge on a ghost that still haunts him. a monster never stops hunting you, even after it's long gone and in the ground.
she's quiet through the first bullet, and then the next. on the third, she moves to his side — cups his elbow and lets her hand slide down his forearm, to the finger he has pointed on the trigger, overlaying her own atop it. determination lines her brows a she helps him squeeze, unloading the barrel into that twitching body, again and again, until it clicks. emptied, gone, just like the figment laying in front of him. ]
Takeshi. [ tak, the girl had called him. some distant echo fills in the rest for alina, filtered in by the dreamscape. even as softly spoken as it is, it's almost shattering in the tense silence, nothing but their breathing disturbing the air. ] It's done.
[ her other hand lifts to cover his, drawing his firearm down to his side. ]
It's done. [ her head tilts, trying to chase his gaze and tug it toward her. ] He can't hurt anyone else ever again.
[ but she supposes that isn't true, is it? the pain still lives on in takeshi's memory, a specter she knows he'll never be free of. not truly. ]
8.1 & 8.2
but alina had found her escape in bright flowering meadows, the hope of that open space brought her; there is none of that here, cloistered in this closet as she watches through the slats, gritting her teeth every time bone strikes flesh. and as soon as she breathes in, a fool that believes it's done —
the memories shift and fade, a tapestry of every sin this man has committed, woven together into a nightmare. alina starts long before kovacs does, a helpless stride forward to rescue the cowering girl on the floor. the other children would have never shed a tear if she and mal disappeared into ditches, never would have called for help — but this man is more than a bully with his hate in his heart.
he is hatred, made into human flesh. a monster, alina thinks, turning on the family he was meant to love. alina's fists uncurl from where they've blanched, nails biting into her skin, preparing to hurl him away with the heat gathering there — but kovacs moves first, as though he needs to enact revenge on a ghost that still haunts him. a monster never stops hunting you, even after it's long gone and in the ground.
she's quiet through the first bullet, and then the next. on the third, she moves to his side — cups his elbow and lets her hand slide down his forearm, to the finger he has pointed on the trigger, overlaying her own atop it. determination lines her brows a she helps him squeeze, unloading the barrel into that twitching body, again and again, until it clicks. emptied, gone, just like the figment laying in front of him. ]
Takeshi. [ tak, the girl had called him. some distant echo fills in the rest for alina, filtered in by the dreamscape. even as softly spoken as it is, it's almost shattering in the tense silence, nothing but their breathing disturbing the air. ] It's done.
[ her other hand lifts to cover his, drawing his firearm down to his side. ]
It's done. [ her head tilts, trying to chase his gaze and tug it toward her. ] He can't hurt anyone else ever again.
[ but she supposes that isn't true, is it? the pain still lives on in takeshi's memory, a specter she knows he'll never be free of. not truly. ]