[ As much as she can be, in a puddle of blankets, Sabine is more careful this time. Careful with where she ends up when he drags her into his lap. Careful of his leg and face, which looks like it met someone's fist or a door or—she can't quite, will later, doesn't want her focus divided yet. Not now. Not with him here. Hands on her arms.
Looking as grave as when he delivered the news of her parent's death the first time she arrived, somehow those words, this time, about herself will go any differently. Sabine is already shaking her head even before he lets it trail off unsaid. Makes her a ghost or something else....something closer to any number of potential truths? ]
No. I woke up in the fountain right after you went through the door.
[ The one that held the memory he didn't want to remember, the one that brought her here to a much earlier version of him. There's so much cresting and crashing around him, yet it's silent, and there's no violence to the way it makes space for itself around him, them. An endless winding road. Laughter, and gas station snacks, and yet more monsters. A crater where once sat a gas station (and a pyramid, and so many other things). A panoply of gods cannibalizing each other.
Sabine lifts her hands and cups his cheeks, careful with the bruises on his face even as her smile unchecks itself from restraint, the most important parts backward filling in. There's a soft laugh at everything and nothing. A weight she's known for longer than Jack's been alive finding slack, transmuting into delighted-pride. ]
no subject
Looking as grave as when he delivered the news of her parent's death the first time she arrived, somehow those words, this time, about herself will go any differently. Sabine is already shaking her head even before he lets it trail off unsaid. Makes her a ghost or something else....something closer to any number of potential truths? ]
No. I woke up in the fountain right after you went through the door.
[ The one that held the memory he didn't want to remember, the one that brought her here to a much earlier version of him. There's so much cresting and crashing around him, yet it's silent, and there's no violence to the way it makes space for itself around him, them. An endless winding road. Laughter, and gas station snacks, and yet more monsters. A crater where once sat a gas station (and a pyramid, and so many other things). A panoply of gods cannibalizing each other.
Sabine lifts her hands and cups his cheeks, careful with the bruises on his face even as her smile unchecks itself from restraint, the most important parts backward filling in. There's a soft laugh at everything and nothing. A weight she's known for longer than Jack's been alive finding slack, transmuting into delighted-pride. ]
You did it. I knew you could.