Re: Gatsby: Wren/Loki
Something like fear trickled along the back of her neck as he led her up and deeper into the woods. She looked back longingly at the vacated safety of the stairs. Luke wouldn't like this, and she had to banish the thought in order to keep moving. But she hadn't lied to him. She hadn't. She'd told him she was meeting someone, and it was like there was any intimacy happening. She knew that was justifying, that she was justifying all of this in her own mind. But she was here now, and it was too late for steps in reverse. And the reason why, that was still there. She reminded herself of what had happened to Jack, and she reminded herself of the things she absolutely knew Luke was going to get himself involved in at that Mansion and with the people there, and it was enough to keep her moving forward.
She didn't edge back when he leaned closer; maybe she should have. But she was immune to fears of men, like a broken toy that had been glued too many times at the elbow to still have a functioning joint.
She swallowed heavily when he said it would hurt, and she nodded, and she didn't think of running. Pain had grown up with her. Other children had dolls and fairy tales and dreams. She had hands up her skirts and pain between her legs and marks on her back that could still shimmer in the right light from belts, and she wasn't scared. She wanted to know, because it was always better to know, but she wasn't scared.
When his hands moved, she watched them. When she was lifted off the ground, she inhaled. She didn't cry out or flail. She'd asked for this, and she would not fight it. Her toes pointed toward the ground in a mockery of a ballerina's pointe, and she watched his hands lift.
Her grey eyes went panic wide as that light began to stream from her, and she wanted to grab it back. She didn't know what it was, and magic was something from storybooks read to other little girls, and she had no idea. But she thought, then, that this was bad. She really, really realized it, but she didn't do anything, because it was too late. She knew it was too late, and she almost wished she'd told Luke where she was going.
Almost, because she didn't want him here. He was safe where he was.
But still, it didn't hurt. Whatever he was doing with that long lock of spectral hair, it didn't hurt. She didn't know what he needed it for. She didn't understand that this was payment. She was too busy holding her breath in anticipation of whatever was to come, because that tingling she felt wasn't hurt. It wasn't even a little bit of hurt.
She didn't like how his features changed. She didn't, and she wanted to look away, but she couldn't She couldn't at all, because there was pain on his face, and there was fire, and this didn't seem real. This couldn't be real. It couldn't be-
She tipped her head when the shower of sparks exploded. She looked up and that shriek made her screw her eyes shut again. She wanted to be home. She wanted Luke, and she wanted the kids, and she wanted to be home, and then she felt something enter her. Cold and ice, and maybe that was it. Maybe that was-
She fell, hands on the ground and knees going blood-scraped from the brambles underfoot. But it was okay. She could handle that. She could-
And then she felt it, and it tore her apart inside, and she screamed.