[Are you so keen on joining him? he asks, and it drags another hollow laugh out of her, one that isn't entirely knocked out of her by his lunge. Years she's been fighting for her father's legacy, a fight she's sure he'd know nothing of and care even less; years she's missed her da and his easy smile and his rough, gentle ways; years she's fought, in the dark reaches of the night, the sense that things might be easier if she just gave up fighting and gave up living and joined him. And here she is, dead at last for some other cause, and still parted from her da, and this stupid asshole asks if she's keen to join him?]
[As if she should be afraid of it. As if she should be afraid of dying, when she's done it once already today. She has no doubt he either didn't hear or didn't believe her on the subject, and no doubt he thinks he's making some kind of point, but all she can do is laugh. Even when his arms wrap around her and hoist her up over his shoulder - a horrible reminder of her own continuing vulnerability, and far too reminiscent of being hauled across Reynolds' saddle not so long ago with much the same care - she is still shaking with that laughter, just this side of hysterical.]
[On and on it goes, she thinks, bleakly. On and on, in this world and the next, and never ends. Tell me I should fear to find the Clearing, sai knight. Go on, tell me.]
[One difference does strike her at once between this and when she was last thrown around with such disregard. This time, her hands aren't bound.]
[She does squirm in his grip, but not without purpose. It's enough to twist around and up, and to free one arm to lash around his neck, aiming to choke him until he must let go of her to pull her arm away.]
no subject
[As if she should be afraid of it. As if she should be afraid of dying, when she's done it once already today. She has no doubt he either didn't hear or didn't believe her on the subject, and no doubt he thinks he's making some kind of point, but all she can do is laugh. Even when his arms wrap around her and hoist her up over his shoulder - a horrible reminder of her own continuing vulnerability, and far too reminiscent of being hauled across Reynolds' saddle not so long ago with much the same care - she is still shaking with that laughter, just this side of hysterical.]
[On and on it goes, she thinks, bleakly. On and on, in this world and the next, and never ends. Tell me I should fear to find the Clearing, sai knight. Go on, tell me.]
[One difference does strike her at once between this and when she was last thrown around with such disregard. This time, her hands aren't bound.]
[She does squirm in his grip, but not without purpose. It's enough to twist around and up, and to free one arm to lash around his neck, aiming to choke him until he must let go of her to pull her arm away.]