ultraviolents | inbox | in the night.

( Matt has been both keeping tabs on Elektra and simultaneously avoiding her. he reasons the smartest thing he could possibly do is ignore her; she has been out of his life for years and it's probably better if his afterlife follows suit. he can't completely, though; she knows too much, and despite the fact he's still shamed by how much he'd needed her (half of why he's been avoiding her), Matt can't shake the memory of her hand wrapped around his like an anchor in the darkness.

(he can't forget waking from a disoriented stupor on a couch with her smirking at him, either.)

it's been a few days before he breaks the silence. he almost can't help himself; knowing she's there, it proves impossible to just ignore her. )

Interesting username.

[ she's been doing the same, even after he'd left her room in the inn, extremely petulant about having needed her help and muttering a begrudging 'thank you' as he'd left. she's aware that they have a lot to work though - there's a lot that he doesn't know or doesn't remember (she's still not sure how that works, even after a few days of researching), not the least of which is her taking the killing strike that had been meant for him and why, but she'd respected his need for space. mostly since she's needed some herself. ]

yours, too.

[ his gives who he is away more than hers, although truth be told she's not sure why she's making the attempt at secrecy. they're already dead. ]

i take it you're feeling better.

( petulant is frankly a gentle word for it. Matt asks for help all the time, but never when he really needs it. truly needing someone was bad enough, that Elektra had been the one to see it is insult to literal injury. Matt had managed a thank you and he'd meant it, but after truly leaning on her that much he'd needed some time to recover.

and some time to try and figure out what it meant, though that he's honestly still lost on. Elektra had happily abandoned him in the past, why she'd cared enough to stay is just indicative of something he's unfortunately in the dark about. )

What can I say? I'm a city boy at heart.

( Matt doesn't want to make it obvious that he's hiding things, an alias would do that. it isn't a lie that he's obsessed with his part of New York City, it seemed a safe bet. )

I'm fine. ( aka he doesn't want to talk about it. ) We need to talk.

[ it wasn't out of a desire to have him owe her for something, if that's what he's thinking. but he's not going to believe or understand that until they have this conversation. unfortunately, she's still not sure how to explain it all at once, and she knows he'll want to know everything. ]

yes. we do.

where have you been staying?

( well, yes, he kind of assumes it's going to be she'll hold over his head to get him to do something he probably doesn't want to do at a later point. in fact the assumption is so strong it feels obvious and he doesn't even need to point it out.

but it's not so easy as just presuming she intends to use it as collateral. the world had been hazy without both his eyes, and his ears — but either Elektra was a good actress even when he could barely pick up on it, or she'd been worried about him. which conflicts horribly with the picture of uncaring he'd spent the past few years convincing himself of. it's a lot, basically.

enough that he half considers not telling her where he's staying, but he knows Elektra could find him if she set even the slightest amount of energy into it. she might already know, what's the point in hiding? )

One of the houses across the bridge. The hotel was a little crowded.

it still is.

[ she's still been staying there, both out of desire to learn about this place from the locals and for lack of other options. eventually she'll find something else, for now it's a place to sleep and keep tabs on people.

she could have figured out where he's been staying - she'd narrowed it down to one of the houses, actually, but refrained from figuring out the exact one figuring she could find him when she needed him, or if he told her where to find him first.

see, she's growing, even in death. ]

shall we meet there? this is a talk we should have in person.

( there's some benefit to being in the hub of activity, which is likely why Elektra is there. Matt had originally bailed because of his dinged pride, but he'd stayed away to avoid all the excess noise. he does enjoy a bit of solitude, too — he's more comfortable a bit a part from everyone else.

she really is growing!!! it's true that she'd probably figure it out sooner or later, though. especially because he has no better place to suggest they meet. )

Really? And here I was, thinking you'd prefer this.

( Matt hates communicating over devices. it's frustrating and time consuming to have every message read aloud and dictating what he wants to say. still, Elektra knows him well enough that she might like to avoid being with him in person to have uncomfortable conversations, because he can tell if she decides to lie. the fact she suggests it is surprising. then again, Elektra seems to delight in keeping him on his toes, why would she stop now, even in their afterlife? )

It's the second house past the bridge.

it's a little impersonal.

[ which might be his preference with her, even with the need for dictation and audio. but they need to have this conversation in person in part because of his ability to tell when she lies. this way, he'll know for sure that she's not when she reveals everything - about stick, the hand, and her role in it all, from her attempted recruitment to her part in the prophecy. but whether or not he'll believe her isn't the problem, whether or not he'll accept the truth is.

if he can't, she'll deal with it. she's had to before, and his aversion and anger had been well deserved then. maybe it still is, on some level, if she's kept it from him this long. ]

i'll be there in 20 minutes, unless you've got a previous engagement.

( it is his preference, actually. he could have done voice over text, it'd have been easier, and yet... text gives him more time to think, time he might need. Elektra is a riddle he's never quite figured out, or at least, hadn't figured out correctly.

there was a time where he thought he knew her like the back of his hand, but that was a long time ago. )

I'll be here.

( he's got nothing better to do. when she arrives, she doesn't even have to knock, he's been waiting (more like pacing) by the door, and opens it the second she steps on the creaky board by the front door. once she's inside he shuts it again behind the both of them. her heartbeat is strong and familiar, and he hates it. )

This is as bright as it gets. I didn't bother with a torch. ( it's just an excuse to fill the silence. he walks toward the table with only one nonbroken chair to retrieve the whiskey he's been neglecting. ) Who starts? You, or me? ( he'd suggested the talking, but she agreed. it seems they both have things to say. he can't imagine what she's planning and it bothers him, but the burn of whiskey doesn't make him feel much better. )

see you soon.

[ it doesn't take her long to find him, but she takes deliberate time getting there, suspecting that they'll both need it for this. she doesn't hesitate before walking to his door, though she does raise her hand to knock at it, a little surprised when he opens it before she gets the opportunity.

maybe he just wants to get this over with.

the door is shut behind her and she lets him talk over the silence, retrieving a glass from the table. the room is small and simple, like the rest of the housing in this place, but it's quiet, especially compared to the crowding at the inn. ]

It's not as if I came here to read. [ she watches as he takes a drink, waits until he asks who should go first. she kind of wants one herself, but won't ask and doubts he'll offer. ] When was the last time you saw me, back at home?

( he's conflicted about offering her any obvious hospitality. if it weren't for their time in the woods, he probably wouldn't have given her anything. he wouldn't have invited her to his space in the first place, he'd have found a more neutral place for them to discuss. Matt hasn't forgotten he has Elektra to thank for pulling his useless ass out of the woods, and while he'd love to explain it away by her intending to use it against him...

it'd seemed like she cared. like she was scared. and it could be an act, in fact he keeps kicking himself for thinking it could be any different, but it sure hadn't felt like one. and feeling was about all he had of the experience, with his hearing out of the equation.

so he takes the bottle off the table and takes two intentional steps closer, drops a few fingers in her glass, without commenting on it. ) You had just enticed me to murder my father's killer. ( before you abandoned me, remains unsaid, yet hardly left unfelt. Matt's voice is low, tight and measured, but it does little to hide his anger. his brow is lined at the oddness of the phrasing. he places the bottle back on the table with a distinct thud, and doesn't bother falling back to a safer distance. ) Why?

[ it's even further back than she realized. by his tone and how he was reacting, she'd guessed it was before she'd died, maybe even before they'd found out about the hand's prophecy and her supposed role in it. she'd been hoping it would be after he knew about her history with stick and how he'd initially been her mission. she should have known better than to think this place would make it easy for her.

she takes the offered glass with gratitude, waits for him to finish speaking before knocking its contents back, inhaling deep and exhaling with a sigh. ]

Some things happened between then and what I can remember. You might want to sit down.

( how is it even possible that she'd remember more than he can? what does that even mean? Matt pauses to pinch at his nose, because while Elektra is not lying, that doesn't mean what she's saying makes a particular amount of sense. she's implying she remembers more than he does, and that doesn't seem possible. he wouldn't forget anything between them, that's for damn sure.

he shakes his head, instead moving to pace uncomfortably instead. Matt has never been good at sitting when he's uncomfortable. )

What does that mean? Were you following me? Why would you disappear out of my life without a word and then spy on me? ( it's painfully emotional, and Matt frowns at himself for allowing himself to unravel so easily. what about Elektra did this to him? he turns to face her again, distinctly paying attention to any clues or secrets her body might give in addition to what she has to say. ) Tell me, then.

It's more complicated than that. [ yes, off and on since she'd left him at sweeney's, but she'd kept her distance up until she'd had to follow orders again. maybe she should have tried to reach out on her own, but she hadn't, for a number of reasons. respect for his wishes, fear of rejection, fear of her own emotions. whatever the reason, now they're where they are.

she watches him pace, waits for him to get his questions out. his tone and obvious pain pulls at something in her gut, but she remains impassive and still, knowing that if she gets worked up, they're not going to able to finish this conversation before it dissolves into angry words and actions from them both. ]

I was under instructions. From Stick.

[ there it is. she turns from him, looks for the bottle. screw hospitality, she needs another drink. ]

( he feels immediately defensive, of a life he's already lost. a desperateness to draw lines in the sand and demand she adhere by them, because if he doesn't and she slips past his defenses then he'll be at risk of the same pain he'd been in after she left him the first time. it's pointless, though, isn't it? he can't demand she stay away from him, away from his friends, to stay away from the life he'd slowly built without her. because it's already gone, he lost it in an instant, broken and bleeding and alone in his bed.

Matt is still debating how to respond to the idea she was keeping tabs on him when she drops a completely different bombshell. it's a name she shouldn't know, it's the one thing he'd never shared with her. the mentor that had abandoned him once he started to care a little too much, the one that still dropped in and out of his life when he needed something. Matt has a sad little pattern going, doesn't he? start to care and suffer the consequences.

Elektra's heartbeat is just like it always is. steady, unwavering, undeniable. )

How the hell do you know Stick? ( that's a good place to start, but additionally, ) Why ... to follow me? Or... ( his sunglasses aren't on, it makes it easy to track the wheels turning. the dots connecting. when they'd been together she'd been constantly pushing him to his limits. stealing things, breaking things, once they'd stopped a mugger together and left him broken and bleeding in an alley and they'd gone home and fucked with the man's blood still on his hands. those memories are unraveling, taking another cast, falling to pieces in his hands. )

So was all a lie to convince me to kill for his pathetic war. ( this time the emotion he's letting on isn't just anger, it's worse. heavy and heartbroken. what he's hearing is that she'd never loved him, it'd been an act to break him of what little morality he had left. and despite the fact he's tried to convince himself all this time she couldn't have loved him if she could leave him behind, the reality of it is still unbearable. )

No.

[ he'll hear her heartbeat then, too, betraying her truth. that had been how things had started, but they hadn't been why they'd continued. and in truth, that she'd loved him was the reason she'd stayed away once he'd made it clear he had no interested in stepping beyond the line that killing roscoe sweeney, or anyone else, would have made him cross. ]

It was why I found you, and why I came back. I left when you made it clear you weren't interested in doing that, and I stayed away because you wanted me gone.

[ both times, and that there's another is something he's going to take even worse. ]

( no. he is searching for the falter, the tiny thrill in her heartbeat, the slight tense in her body that could give her away. no — it’s not a lie, her rejection isn’t a silvery falsehood or if it is he can’t detect it. Matt had fallen for her so quickly because she never lied to him, everything she said she meant so vividly. turns out he was so enamored with her honesty he never stopped to think about what she might not be saying.

he could waffle on whether her denouncement related to trying to convince him at the behest of Stick or playing at being in love with him if she hadn’t clarified herself. Matt swallows, heavily. it should make him feel better, that she had cared, at least limitedly. so why doesn’t it?

Matt turns away from her, because he knows how much he’s giving away with his expressions, and he hates it. he’s too wounded to tell her that he never wanted her gone, that he spent weeks wondering if she’d come back and how they could find a way through it when she did. it never happened and they’d never had a chance but he’d have taken her back if she’d even for a moment seemed like she still wanted that life together they’d dreamed of. they could have found a way, he’d been so sure... before the weeks pulled away into months, then years. )

You never came back. I was living my life. It’s been years, Elektra. ( she says she watched him, for Stick or herself, he’s uncertain of which. but that implies distance, and “coming back” implies much closer proximity. )

I know.

[ she hadn't come back because it had hurt. it had hurt to see him afraid of her, when she'd thought he'd understood everything about her. there was the mission and that she'd failed at it, yes, but if she'd cared more about that than about what it would do to him to cross that line and join them, she would have persisted. stick had wanted her to. ]

He wanted me to keep trying. That's why I didn't come back.

[ it's why he'd sent her back all those years later, when he'd failed to do it on his own, in an attempt to try again. but she'd walked away from him for good at matthew's encouragement. stick had always insisted she be who she needed him to be, that she could never be anything more. matthew had made her believe she could.

he turns his back on her, and she waits a moment before coming closer, still holding back from reaching out to touch him in spite of her desire to. he can tell she's being truthful, but she can't convey the full magnitude of her regret for everything with just her words and her heartbeat.

she waits a few more moments, then dares to come within reach of him, if he turns back around. ]

He sent me back, a few months before my death. He wanted me to try again. I left him and he tried to have me killed.

( it's a lot to wrap his head around. Stick and Elektra feel like completely separate parts of his past, the idea they knew each other — and worse yet, she'd been working for his sick ideas revolving around a holy war and murdering children — is a little galling. how else would she know, if it weren't some shade of the truth? even if she'd only found out about Stick through stalking him, why would she ever lie that the two were connected? if she wanted to manipulate him into caring again, putting herself in the same step as his demented mentor was a pretty poor way to do it.

as much as Matt still brokenly cared for him, he'd cut the old man out of his life for a reason. it doesn't curry Elektra any favor to claim a connection to Stick.

the idea the old man would kill her for testing him seems both extreme, and not, knowing Stick as he does. Matt has seen full evidence that Stick would kill to serve his own ends, but someone close to him? Matt told Stick no all the damn time and it'd never killed him. ) Why? What changed? ( why would she turn away when she'd been wiling to break him (not physically, but emotional turns out about the same) at the behest of the old man so many years ago?

he turns toward her slightly, enough she can see the dim line of his profile in the shadows. Matt considers himself lucky that Elektra can't hear his heartbeat as easily as he hears hers. it clamors at the mention of her death, because despite everything Matt never wanted her gone and he certainly never wanted her dead. it's a question he's wanted to ask since he found her, and simultaneously avoided because he doesn't want to know the details. now he can't help himself. ) Is that how you died? Stick?

[ it goes much further back than that. elektra can't remember a time before stick, any point in her early life that didn't involve training with him, learning his methods and believing in his mantra. being trained and used as a weapon, as a tool, in his war. he was the first person who'd ever allowed her to be something else, who'd believed that she could be.

even if he hates her now, she still loves him for that.

she's silent as he spins his wheels, watching him in the dark. her arms are crossed, her expression carefully blank and yet still betraying sadness, if there's anything about that he can sense. ]

The Hand changed. They had plans for me, plans that involved becoming the thing the Chaste had been training to fight against.

[ part of her wants to leave it there rather than reveal how that fight had ended, with them on a rooftop and her taking the impalement meant for matthew, to save both him and herself. but this isn't a conversation she ever wants to have with him again. ]

They had plans for me, the Hand. They wanted me to become something that would help them dominate the world. We were trying to stop them, and I saw one of them - Nobu - go for you.

[ they have nothing now. i took it all away. ]

I made sure he took me out instead.

( Matt remembers Nobu all too well. the first gut reaction he has to the name is to point out he's dead. her story is impossible, no matter how distinctly she believes it. and she does; Matt isn't sure if she's fallen into madness or she's gotten so wrapped up in her own deceptions she can't find the truth herself anymore. or the third and decidedly worse option: it's the truth, and somehow he didn't live to see any of it.

he remembers the weapon Stick had coerced him into helping locate. the Black Sky, the ultimate weapon, the thing even his hardass mentor had seemed genuinely terrified by. Matt hadn't believed it at the time, he's still not sure he believes it now. and yet the rhetoric Elektra is ghosting over sounds uncomfortably like the lecture Stick had given him time and time again, trying to convince him to join a war that didn't seem to exist.

in the end Matt simply gets stuck on the last confession. that Elektra had died protecting him, just as she'd risked herself in the woods only a few days ago. it doesn't make any sense with the version of her he's tried to craft in the years she's been gone. cruel, malicious, uncaring. the version of her that had left him because she'd never really loved him in the first place. )

Why? Why would you do that? ( take a blow meant for him. Matt has gone into every fight he's ever had willing to die in it. some might say he'd even welcome it. Elektra knows that, and dying to protect him doesn't fit with the ugly version of her he's tried to convince himself was real ever since she slipped out of his life like a shadow. he's not sure what would be worse, abandoning him because she never cared or staying away, even if she did. )

[ she knows how it must sound to him. it sounds insane even explaining it; if she hadn't lived through it she's not sure if she'd believe it herself. but the scars still mark her body, both from the hand's poison blades and her own sai. they ache now at the memory, at the fact that he doesn't share it with her. it's not that she would want him to suffer, but it hurts that he doesn't know any of it, that his most recent memory of is is her deserting him at his father's murder's mansion.

she thinks she'd even prefer the horror of his realization that he'd killed the boy sent to attack them to this. ]

I didn't want you to die. [ simple as that, but also: ] And they wanted to use me, too.

( she's told him so much and much of it seems like madness, and he's a mix of baffled, overwhelmed, and doubtful. it can't be true that she's lived past what he can remember, if he's dead then he couldn't have lived on to be in the way of a blow for Elektra to take in his stead. it doesn't make sense so why can't he hear the lies?

part of him wants to demand she tell him everything, in detail, and the other wants to tell her to leave because it's easier than trying to wrap his head around all of it. )

Use you for what? ( he's never believed Stick's ramblings about the Chaste and a sacred war so it doesn't make it much easier when it's Elektra. it should make it worse, considering he knows how manipulative she can be. ) Everything you're saying sounds impossible. We never saw each other again, I... I died in my sleep after a fight. ( his voice is a little raw, though maybe it'll make Elektra feel better that she's not alone in the uncomfortable confessions. ) Why should I believe you? The last time I trusted you, you made sure I'd regret it. And I loved you too much to think you could be lying to my face, constantly.

( it's amazing how Matt can inject so much anger and frustration into a voice hardly louder than a whisper. he's not supposed to be so damn foolish, now, so why is he entertaining this? why is he begging for a reason to believe? )

Use me as the thing the Chaste taught us to fear. The Black Sky. It's me.

[ her voice is ragged, full of emotion that's only held back because she can tell he needs to fall apart over this more than she does. she's just put a whole lot of history in his lap, history that he can't remember because he hasn't lived it. ]

You should believe me because you can tell it’s the truth. [ and he's right, she's gotten away with lying by omission countless times. but she promised before her death not to hold things back from him anymore. even if he doesn't believe her now, even if he'll never remember her doing it, she wants to keep it. ] I don't expect you to, I know how all of it sounds, but I swear to you, it happened.

[ if he wants her to go into detail, she will. she knows she's only scratching the surface of the details with her explanation, but that already feels like too much to put on him. ]

Edited 2019-08-25 18:25 (UTC)

The Black Sky was just a scared little kid locked in a shipment crate. Stick killed him before he had the chance to be anything else.

( Matt's tone is plenty colored with guilt, as he feels there's some blood on his hands after that particular mission, even if he'd had no part of the killing and had done everything possible to avoid it. still, he's heard the moniker from Stick before, he remembers the viciousness his mentor had used in response to it — if Elektra was the Black Sky, it made a certain amount of sense that he'd try to kill her. that's absolutely what happened to the last poor soul that he confused as some mystical figurehead of a shadowy organization. why Stick would train Elektra if she was the exact thing he was fighting against, that made less sense. it's just another of many things stacked against her story.

despite the fact that yes, so far she hasn't told him any lies. Matt doesn't know what to think about that. perhaps she's so deadset on her own delusions, to her they seem the truth. that is a hard concept to buy, however, because for all that Matt knows about Elektra and her dark and jagged edges, he wouldn't call her out of her mind. she wasn't unhinged, so much as playing by her own rules. she doesn't present any signs that she's lost it, and Matt stubbornly thinks he'd know if she had.

what's the alternative? that she's telling the truth, some part of him whispers, but that's too hard to believe at present. it's more likely that Matt has never been able to see a lie in Elektra, and that's how he fell so hard and so deep for her in the first place. )

Do you? I highly doubt that. ( unless she's on the receiving end of a story that no part of her remembers, she is not likely to understand how jarring and uncomfortable it is to be on the receiving end of it. worse, this isn't even the first time this week someone has implied they remember things that Matt himself does not. it wasn't any more fun the first time, though at least it was from someone Matt didn't know to be a manipulator.

he turns away from her, shaking his head. ) I need to think. You should go. ( the only reason the request isn't more biting is the visceral physical memories of how she'd dragged him from the woods. as the weeks and months stretched and it became apparent she wasn't coming back, Matt had always told himself that if she tried he'd turn her away without considering anything she had to say. he's already folded on that point, and this influx of information just makes it worse. he's never going to be able to think clearly with her smell and her heartbeat clamoring in his head, reminding him of things he's for so long tried to forget. )

[ wanda has been mulling this over for a while. she's more than hesitant (absolutely afraid) to venture back out into the forest again after what happened during the expedition — every night she sees eleven's face, pieces of eleven — but she's equally smothered and claustrophobic in town.

she doesn't trust will as much as you could fill a teaspoon, and robin... there's no telling.

the only people who don't seem to give her That Look about the whole thing are elektra and matt. elektra because of who she is; matt — well, his eyes aren't the most expressive behind those shades, but he doesn't flex his jaw in a probing way, either. they know how to fold things up, let her process, let her make the first move — while they deal with their own quandaries.

they both remind her of home.

so it's to elektra's door she comes with this idea, to finally get out. more or less.
she knocks three times, not too late at night. ]

[ elektra hasn't harbored much desire to go back into the forest herself, but she finds herself restless with nothing to do and frustrated with no answers as to why they were lured there only to be deafened by one of its spirits. (who matthew had taken an apparent liking to afterwards, but that's neither here nor there.) she knows dwelling probably isn't healthy, but between this and whatever her standing with matthew is and how she still feels in spite of (and maybe because of) everything, the former is probably the safer thing to consume her thoughts.

she's thinking about it when wanda comes to her door, rapping at it three times, and she goes to answer without much delay. that it's wanda standing there when she answers is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. ]

Hello, Wanda. [ she steps aside and opens the door a little wider, suspecting that whatever wanda wants to discuss isn't something meant for public ears, but doesn't move aside to invite her in just yet. ] What brings you here?

[ wanda meets her eyes, and though her gaze is steady, there's something haunted and cavernous about it. the circles under her eyes have gotten darker in her lantern light. ]

I keep thinking about resets. The woods. The town...

[ a beat. she glances past elektra, into the room behind her, how — aside from the darkness — normal it looks. the walls, the roof over her head. built, painted... rebuilt... repainted... ]

Elektra, how many towns do you think there have been?

[ if her room looks tidy in the way that suggests it's been unlived in, that's due to the fact that it more or less has been. she'd stuck to it and the inn in the first few days, after she and matthew had had their hearing damaged, but aside from that she's been avoiding spending much time in it. she'd been like that while living, too, no matter how luxurious the spaces she occupied were, tending to only spend time in those places when she needed the rest.

wanda's words have her considering, though. there was them and the people who had vanished, and then if what they'd been told when arriving was anything to go by, another few groups of people before them. why do the slates keep getting wiped clean? ]

I hadn't thought much about how many. What interests me more is what they might have done wrong.

[ the idea makes her angry, groups before them being brought here without their consent and wiped away if the group didn't perform the way they were supposed to, when they were given no indication of how to behave. it feels a little too familiar. ]

It's clear that you have, though. [ she steps aside then, wordlessly inviting wanda if she wants to come in. ]

[ in the back of her mind, she takes in these small details about elektra, about her home. things she learned to survive, things she honed further with coaching from natasha.

but the most pressing thought is what sliver of trust she has in this necrotic counterfeit of a life here, and that she's decided to offer some of it to elektra. the question is, she wonders, as she steps inside elektra's room — should she extend that trust beyond the borders of where they pretend to live, and to their skills, after everything that's happened?

or perhaps that's not the question. perhaps it's the impulse to move her trust anywhere but within the invisible borders of this small community, lying in wait to be destroyed. ]

I do think about how many towns, [ she replies after a moment, then turns to face her host. ] and where they might have been.

I think about how difficult it has been for those of us who have left this town to explore to come back safely — but they report findings other than spirits. Elektra— [ she pauses, her pulse quickening, she takes a breath, ] the village across the bridge was in ruins when we first found it. Before you came. And before that... well, we didn't know it was there.

[ her eyes pierce elektra's. it wasn't there before they found it. she thinks elektra will get her meaning. ]

Edited 2019-10-01 01:26 (UTC)

[ there isn't much to be found there, but isn't that face a detail in and of itself? her lantern glows on a shelf, there are some clothes tucked away and a few personal care items on the dresser, but nothing indicating much more than her taste in bath scents. (sandalwood and jasmine, for the record.)

the door is shut and secured once wanda steps inside, and elektra is quiet as she observes the other woman and lets her voice her train of thought. that she brings up the possibility of other locations is interesting, and a possibility she doubts many have considered. her eyebrows raise slightly when the bridge is brought up, that there was another village's remains to be found beyond it. ]

You think there's something to be found there beyond ruins?

[ she turns away again, takes a step, places her hand on the edge of elektra's small kitchen-and-dining table. finally, she seats herself with another deep breath and cranes her neck to look back at her... quasi-friend. ]

There is no way to be sure. But I think we have to look.

[ wanda curls her idle fingers into her fists. ]

Look for the other towns. Perhaps... if we see any sign of what they were like before they were reset...

[ she licks her lips. ]

...we could avoid our own.

[ elektra's arms are crossed as she observes wanda, still remaining silent as she considers. it's not long before she nods in agreement. ]

We're going to need to prepare.

[ she's not sure exactly what wanda has seen, but she knows what she's seen and that they're not the only ones to have dangerous encounters. ]

[ a soft, trembling wave of relief washes over her. ]

We will need food, water, enough for... two weeks, perhaps more. Weapons. First aid. At least one torch.

[ wanda tilts her head; a short pause. ]

And Matt.

[ not only does she have an inkling elektra would be reluctant to leave him behind; not only does she think matthew would be an asset despite his disability; but— ]

Three is safer than two.

[ the immense relief wanda must be feeling at her agreement is visible in her stance, even subtly. elektra nods as she lists off what they'll need to go into the woods, until she mentions that they'll need matthew as well.

well, now her coming to her makes sense. she's correct in her assumption that she won't want to go without him, in spite of how well that had gone for him (them) the last time. but that aside, she can't agree to this for him. although she can't imagine that he wouldn't want to help. ]

Have you spoken to him, too? Or was the next part of this asking me to do it?

[ wanda chews the inside of her lip, considering how to phrase this. all of it. ]

I wanted to know how you would feel about it. And I thought... we could ask him together, ultimately.

[ she considers for a moment, then nods again, looking briefly to the view the window offers. the house he's claimed is in the distance, just barely visible from where she's standing. she can't tell whether or not he's there now. ]

Okay. Did you want to find him first, or should we think about what else we're going to need while we're thinking of it?

I've watched you both during our time here.

[ wanda holds up a hand— ]

I know that sounds— bad. What I mean is, I think you are better at forethought and precision, and Matthew excels at moving with instinct.

[ and before that sounds even creepier, ]

It makes sense, given how his senses balance out what he's lost. But if we go to him without a plan, we may end up in the forest before we are ready.

[ the fact that she'd been watching them is less bad than she might think - of course she has, everyone's been keeping a wary eye on everyone else, on some level. and she isn't wrong in her assessment of their respective strengths. what strikes elektra is the last part of what she says, about matthew and his senses. ]

How do you know about that? [ her voice is sharper now, protective of matthew and the secret he's been trying to keep. ]

[ wanda blinks, slowly. she senses she's struck a nerve. ]

About what?

[ question: did wanda really hit on something with matt or was she really just referring to his personality, and how he makes up for being blind? are you giving shit away yourself right now, elektra? ]

[ elektra debates her answer for a second - she doesn't think wanda will appreciate a quick covering lie, and she wouldn't want to anyway, not if they're about to head into the woods together. finally, she relents. ]

You mentioned his senses.

[ wanda folds her hands together in front of her face, then rests her chin over her knuckles. ]

I did. Don't you think it is an accurate assessment that he moves based on instinct more than the average person?

I do. But I've known him longer.

[ she's not about to reveal anything to wanda if she can help it, upcoming expedition or no. it's not her secret to reveal, and matthew's made it clear that he's still trying to keep it. ]

( they've spent the past few days in isolation. Elektra's hallucinations have lessened since the first night, the bandana has been off for awhile and slowly the voices in both of their heads are starting to fade. despite the fact they might have been able to rough it alone after the first night, neither had any interest in enforcing the distance. it's not the first time they've taken shelter from the veritable storm of Beacon, though it's certainly different from the last time.

after touching the proof of her scars and having her fall asleep in his arms, there was little point in going back to detachment. touch seemed to help Elektra fight past the hallucinations, and Matt is happy to give her that tether if she needs it. besides, having her close is a comfort to him as much as it is to her. he's felt her coming back to him, piece by piece. even if he could go back and try it again, hide things better, stay more detached... he wouldn't.

sooner or later, though, the unspoken has to be said. the relative peace they've been living in will be broken, they can't just hole up in his cabin forever. and before Elektra leaves him he wants to know.

now seems like a good a time as any. they're not in bed, for once — they're on his dated and dusty couch, Elektra's head in his lap. he's listening to updates on the tablet, the volume quiet enough she probably doesn't even hear it. he'll update her occasionally on something interesting, but really there's not a lot to report. she's quiet and surprisingly complacent to just lay against him, though she seems calm and centered. like her attention is in the moment, with him, not off in her memories or on something in her head. once the last message reels off he turns off the tablet, putting it aside and brushing some hair behind her ear. he's silent for a moment, fingers just lingering behind her ear, before he finally says it. )

Were you ever going to tell me you still love me? ( she's told him everything, extensively. she's detailed a long stretch of memories he never got to live. yet, somehow, that little fact stayed silent, even if she telegraphs it in the way she treats him and the stutter of her heartbeat when he's close. he could be wrong, he's tried to convince himself of that for months. but he doesn't think he is. )

[ she'd been reluctant to remove the blindfold, not wanting to feel the pain of her death or see the blood or the hands groping for her again. she'd only agreed to it with his reassurances, by his touch and the tone of his voice grounding her, keeping the horrors at bay. it's now been a couple of days and maybe she could have gone home. maybe she should have. but he hasn't asked her to and she hasn't wanted to.

right now there's silence, both in her head and in his, and all she can see is his space. he hovers above her, listening to the messages on the network, occasionally giving her updates on what's been going on outside of the little world they've built for themselves. her eyes slide close even though she's not tired, just enjoying the relative peace of the moment. and then he asks her his question.

she doesn't respond at first, except to open her eyes and curl her fingers into the fabric of his sweatpants. this is a conversation she hadn't expected to have, that she hadn't wanted to have. she'd convinced herself that she'd be fine if things remained the way they've been, realized that when he'd last seen her alive, he'd thought she'd left him because he'd disappointed her, how much that had hurt him. she hadn't expected things to go further. it doesn't mean she hadn't wanted things to go further, but she wasn't going to be the one to bring it up. and she'd figured that the fact that he hadn't meant that he wasn't going to.

she straightens eventually, looking at him head on, waiting for him to look at her even if he can't see her. this isn't something she wants to do when she can't see his reaction. ]

Were you ever going to tell me you knew?

[ she knows he's able to hear her reactions. she's had some involuntary ones over the past few months that she's sure he's been able to discern the meaning of if he really thought about them. that he hadn't brought it up meant that he had been ignoring them, or so she'd thought. ]

( she shifts away and he lets her. it’s shameful how instantly he misses the easy, thoughtless proximity. it’s ridiculous, how quickly he’s learned to crave her closeness. especially considering how badly things had fallen apart the last time he let her in. that memory is still in his mind, even now, but he’s long past pretending that he can avoid getting in deep with Elektra if he just proceeds with caution. pulling her into his arms, whispering pet names he hasn’t used in years (because they’re hers and he’s never used them on anyone else), the horrible clawing panic clamoring in his chest when she was deep in the throes of a hallucination — all of it just proved something he’d been foolish to not realize sooner.

that he loved her. maybe loved her still, despite everything. that he’d never managed to stop, even as he lived his life alone with grim certainty he’d never see her again. because she chose to leave and she chose to never come back.

he can tell she wants him to look at her, just from her posture. Matt obliges, even though he can’t really look her in the eye. there’s nothing to hide behind, no sunglasses that hide half his face, just a weary and slightly sad smile on his face. )

At first, I told myself I was wrong. The last time I thought you loved me, I was wrong. Why would it be different now? ( he was intentionally cautious, not wanting to fall into the same destructive freefall he had before. ) After... after that, I didn’t want to believe it, so I let myself pretend.

( she’s right, he has more or less ignored plenty of signs. she knows how well he can pick up on her reactions, even ones she doesn’t intend to make. all the more reason he’s curious. ) You knew I could hear it, sense it, but you never said anything.

Edited 2019-10-28 03:23 (UTC)

[ she'd left him back then because she'd thought he wanted her gone. she'd stayed away because stick had kept insisting she go back, try again, and that had been one mission she hadn't wanted to succeed in. and even after he'd sent her again, even when he'd made his boundaries clear to her, she'd respected them, because she hadn't wanted to push him into anything he didn't really feel. and it wasn't until that night on the roof, when he'd suggested he run with her wherever she went, that she'd thought he might feel it again, in spite of all he'd learned and all he already knew.

he doesn't remember any of that. she'd told him everything, but that's not the same thing as experiencing it and knowing it. so she had been trying not to expect anything, trying to quell her initial instincts to push it, just glad for the fact that he was willing to have her in her life after how he'd remembered her leaving it. she looks down as he talks, her hands twisted in her lap, and when she looks back up her eyes are full, her voice small and raw. ]

You weren't wrong the last time. [ that part is spoken softly, and she swallows before talking again, willing out the breaking. ] And I didn't think it was fair to hold you to something you couldn't remember.

( no, he doesn't remember any of it. he's heard the cliffsnotes but even that isn't particularly close to really living it. hearing she'd been poisoned by the Hand could never be as real as living it. praying over her with bloodied hands, petrified of the prospect of losing her, even after trying to keep emotional distance. just like he'd done here, and without the pressure of life and death between them, it'd certainly taken longer for his hackles to lower and his defenses to fall.

it'd never really been an if. more a matter of when.

he closes his eyes, a momentary flash of unhappiness, at the simple correction. he'd told himself for years now that she left because she'd never loved him. there's a terrible bitterness to the idea she'd loved him and still left. after enough months, he'd stopped waiting, stopped hoping — because if she'd never loved him anyway, why would she ever have cause to come back? knowing that she loved him once, loved him still, and that she still chose to stay away burns. )

I remember what it's like to love you. ( he may not have lived through everything she did, that's a fact. but not remembering it doesn't really change how he feels about her, either. ) I don't think I ever stopped. ( as much as Matt would have liked to convince himself to the contrary, the proof is in how easily he's fallen back into the same steps. how terrifying he found the concept of losing her all over again. the way it ached to press his palm against the injury that killed her, the one she'd gotten protecting him. hell, the fact her leaving hurt him at all — he's lost so much he expects it, he's numb to it. he wasn't numb to losing Elektra, that's for certain. all of it tells him what he's tried so hard to ignore, and there's just... no ignoring it anymore.

or, more accurately, maybe he just doesn't want to ignore it anymore. )

Edited 2019-10-28 21:38 (UTC)

[ it takes a while for her to process that information, the fact that he hadn't stopped loving her either. she'd assumed he'd moved on, he'd told her he had, she'd seen it. even if he hadn't experienced it, there was no reason for her to believe he hadn't. and truth be told, she'd known it would probably be better for him if he did.

and now he's telling her that he hadn't. and that he'd known she hadn't, either. ]

Why now? Why tell me this now?

( of course he’d reflexively tell her he’d moved on. that he was perfectly happy in the life he’d built without her. doesn’t exactly make it true. and to be fair Matt was moderately happy in his fairly nice apartment with a blossoming legal practice with his best friend. he’d also been living a double life, maybe half a life — hiding he who he was because he more or less knew that the friends he’d grown so attached to couldn’t or wouldn’t accept who he really was. he moved on, that’s a fact, he had little choice in the matter.

that didn’t mean he could just turn off all the emotions left behind. that accepting she was gone meant suddenly everything he’d ever felt for her would disappear. he kept moving, as he always did, though it was a detached existence. from the world, and even from the people he cared about most. )

Seeing you like that, I think it’s the most scared I’ve been since I was a kid. ( with him, but at the same time so far away. hurt, terrified, and the chance that he couldn’t reach her seemed so vast. even once she’d started to calm, that horrible ache lingered, a reminder that couldn’t be pushed aside. ) I don’t know what happens tomorrow, if either of us have much longer here. If next time it isn’t hallucinations but something worse and something real and I can’t protect you from it.

( his hands knot into fists and slowly but surely the calm is seeping away. Matt doesn’t talk about his fears lightly, if at all. it takes a lot to get him to admit them, but finding her on his doorstep tearful and terrified is proof that he is frightened to lose her, even at the uncomfortable distance he’s been enforcing. )

I’m telling you now because I want you to know, and I don’t want to say it because it’s my last chance before I lose you. I want you to know now, while it can still mean something. ( mean what? that part he isn’t sure. he doesn’t suspect either of them can go back to the way they were before, the way everything was easy and thoughtless and unfettered. but it could still mean something. something more than loving each other at arms length because neither of them would admit it. )

[ her eyes don't leave his face as he continues to confess everything, and her heart both constricts and feels a little bit freer. she does her best not to think about the reality of their situation more often than not, that things could be reset whenever those in charge feel that they're no longer fulfilling their purpose, that anything in this place could wipe out their afterlife in the blink of an eye. when she'd come to him, she'd been afraid of just that, that they'd decided to reopen her wounds and let her bleed out from them because of some indiscretion, because she hadn't been behaving the right way.

but he's right. what they'd just been through is proof of that. they've been given a second chance here, and they're living on borrowed time.

she shifts closer to him, her knees curled by his lap, hand reaching out to frame his jaw as she turns him slightly to face her, leaning in close. her voice sounds impossibly soft as she speaks, so unlike how she usually sounds. so vulnerable. ]

It means something.

[ and then she closes the distance, slowly, with enough time for him to stop her if he decides this is a step too far. if he doesn't, her lips are going to find his, kissing him lightly, the tip of her tongue darting out to taste his mouth. ]

( nobody could blame her for not wanting to think about it. Robin seems at least congenial, but congenial doesn't erase the fact she could at once and in an instant wipe all of them clean, leaving this place back in the same blank standstill it started. even without her, apparently this place was doomed to nonexistence much sooner than later. Matt is conflicted on whether they're in purgatory or if this is something different, something worse — though the chance that this dimmed existence is all they have left and that sooner or later, they'll lose even that, means he doesn't want to waste it.

because while admittedly he can't say the ugly parts of their past don't still hurt, he can say that they aren't worth living the rest of his afterlife holding her at arms length.

it's true, her voice is nearly a whisper, barely more than a breath. he wasn't asking for touch or comfort, though that's what she offers, and he doesn't shy away from it. it doesn't even feel that sudden or unusual when they've been so close, even without a definition, for the past few days. he doesn't fight her, in fact after she hazards a kiss he just pulls her back into his arms and into his lap. if Elektra's worried he intends to be cagey about affection, she probably doesn't need to be.

the kiss is simple, more emotional than physical. less leading and more expressive, and yet if it lasted a lifetime it'd still have ended too soon. he rubs his hand at her upper arm, keeping his forehead pressed to hers as he wonders, ) What do you want it to mean? ( Matt is very far from confident about this, either. all he knows is that he isn't willing to waste what opportunity they have, even if things are bound to be different than they were before. they never had to ask questions like this before, now they feel necessary. )

[ the pull isn't quite expected, in spite of what she'd just done, but she goes easily with the sudden movement, settling onto his lap with her knees draped over his hips. her free arm loops around his shoulder and she leans against him, forehead pressed to his, as he asks her what she wants it to mean. ]

Whatever it means. I love you. [ he knew that, but she thinks he wants her to say it. ] What does it mean for you?

( well, he doesn't need her to say it, he's figured her out and she's already more or less confirmed it by not denying it. that's not really the point, hearing it is still better than putting clues and signs and pieces together and making assumptions. the affirmation is an important one, and it earns a small twist of his mouth. a smile — a fairly subdued one, all things considered, though there's much about this that is far from ideal. it's hard to be overjoyed by the prospect of a solitary snapshot, when they've lost so much time. that even if they make the most of every moment they have left, that's still all it can ever be. a moment.

Matt is used to losing people he loves. he just hopes that whatever their end is, they find it together. she won't be throwing herself in front of a blade for him again any time soon, he's really going to have to watch her around sharp objects from here on out. dying for him once is really enough! )

It means I want to be with you. Whatever happens next, however it ends, I want to do it together. ( the sentiment is sweet and sad all at once, but he means it. he unwinds one of his arms to leave it free to just ... ambiently touch her. he's touched her off and on since they'd found each other here, though he'd never felt free enough to touch her like this. nothing particularly romantic, just his fingertips gingerly running over every line and angle like he's trying to memorize them — reacquaint himself, is more accurate. Matt's senses do a lot for him, though his sense of touch is just as heightened and it's the one sense he generally keeps to himself. it means a lot to be able to just touch her again. ) I'm not sure how this will work, after everything, but that I know.

[ his hand traces over her body, mapping over her face and neck before traveling over her arms and chest. her eyes close as she lets him say his piece, suppressing a shiver as his fingers trace over her collarbone. it finally lands on her cheek and she removes her own hand from his face to cover his, eyes opening to look into his. ]

I want that, too. [ it's all she's wanted, since they'd gotten here and before dying. she won't bring up a promise he doesn't remember making, but it echoes in her head all the same. ] However we can make it work, I want to try.

( he could spend a lifetime mapping her body under his fingertips and still never be satisfied. for the interest of time, he sticks to the places he remembers most vividly. the strong muscles in her upper arms, the cords in her throat. the beautiful tilt of cheekbones and the corner of her mouth that tends to lift especially when she smirks at him. he runs the pad of his thumb under her eye, hand lingering at her face and at least momentarily idled of its wandering. the hand she curves around his helps to still him, too.

the smile he gives her this time is a little less heartbreaking. he's slowly thawing to the moment, despite the misery that prompted it. ) Then we'll try. ( it's what both of them want, and now that they've both admitted it, there's no reason to shy from the fact or pretend otherwise. he nuzzles toward her for a moment, like a needy cat demanding affection, before kissing her. no more heated than the last time — Matt just enjoys that he can. )

[ she returns his smile with a similar one, one filled with tentative hope and affection, and she nods against his throat, her head dipping forward to nuzzle in return and breathe in his scent. her heart beats faster and heat floods her skin beneath where his hands still lie on her body. ]

Okay.

[ he kisses her then, tipping her face towards his to do it, and she returns it eagerly but with no less reverence and softness. it doesn't need to lead anywhere but where it is (although she wouldn't mind that), she's content just to be with him like this. ]

( it’s almost hard to accept this moment is real. to be fair the past week they’ve been haunted by incredibly creative hallucinations. Matt hasn’t mentioned it but truly the hardest hallucination for him to shake hadn’t been Foggy, or Karen, or his father. it’d been his ugly thoughts wearing her voice in a luxurious purr. trying to convince him she’d never loved him, mocking him for falling for it twice. it’d been incredibly difficult to shake that voice, not to believe the hateful whispers — because they’d been ones he’d told himself for years.

he’d honestly been reeling from it a bit, before she stumbled her way to his door terrified she was bleeding to death. reality had done plenty to shake him of the hallucinations.

if he is hallucinating, well, this is about the only hallucination Matt is happy to indulge in. for a long few moments he just enjoys kissing her, while he lets his hands stroke at her sides, reliving the taste of her mouth. he doesn’t pull back far to talk, just lingering a breath away. )

I missed this. ( holding her. touching her. kissing her. it’s a little depressing he’s been missing her for years, and despite plenty of opportunity it’d taken him months to convince himself to allow closeness again. )

[ he still hadn't told her what he'd seen or heard. it would break her heart to know he was hearing her, make her supremely grateful that she hadn't heard him. it'll occur to her later that he hadn't told her what he'd been hearing, too wrapped up in tending to her and her own poisoned mind, and she'll ask him about it. maybe it's selfish not to do that now, but she doesn't want to. she wants this moment to remain uninterrupted for as long as it possibly can. ]

So did I. [ it's muttered a little breathlessly against his mouth, following his own confession, and her hands run back and forth over the broad expanse of his shoulders, heartbeat thudding steadily inches away from his own. they've touched since arriving, since her confessions of everything that had happened in the years since she'd left him and the time when she'd come back. they'd sparred, tended to each other, huddled close for warmth, but this is something different, an intimacy she's longed for, one she'd only ever found with him. ]

( considering the shattering revelation of exactly how much she'd hidden from him the first time around, perhaps it's not a surprise that they've build so much on honesty between them now. if Elektra asked about his hallucinations, he'd tell her. perhaps not easily or in much detail, considering things between them are old and new all at once. but he'd tell her, even though it'd be uncomfortable. he doesn't blame her for never asking — she'd been suffering with her own in far more depth and complexity. it was hard for her to leave her own torture to worry about his.

she's right, that this is very unlike the touches they'd allowed themselves before. there'd been some underlaying tension to it, the itch for more and the refusal to entertain it. especially sparring, why on earth had he ever thought that was a good idea? pressing her against the mat (or having her lay him flat and climbing on top of him to pin him there, victorious) only sparked memories of a time when sparring together had usually ended in sex. and sometimes quite abruptly.

the rest had been a different kind of closeness, maybe a closeness they hadn't had much of a chance to indulge in before disaster — they'd been high on life and each other, both, there hadn't been many wounds to care after that they hadn't made themselves. no emotional or mental torment that they needed to escape. they'd truthfully leaned on each other more in Beacon than they had in their wild past... apparently it'd been a part of their relationship after her return, he just doesn't remember the intricacies of it. he knows them now, because for all Elektra tried to hide her feelings, she'd never managed to hide when she was concerned about him. she fell back into tracks that were familiar for her, ones he couldn't remember, though he certainly connects with it now.

it makes the simple kisses feel a little deeper, truth be told. )

I don't want to miss you anymore. ( it's part of what spurred him to press in the first place, when arguably it was wiser and safer to keep pretending. he leans back a little, a slight frown playing at his face as he stares at her with empty eyes. he hates his blindness most in moments like this. ) What you're feeling, what you're thinking... you don't have to hold it back. I want to know.

[ he stares at her with such open, naked vulnerability, and she freezes, her heart pounding a little faster, echoing in her throat. he's being open with her in ways she knows he's been avoiding to protect himself, and she's been holding back to protect herself. she'd told him the facts of everything, but the facts hardly cover everything. they certainly don't cover how she's been feeling.

she falters a little, eyes canting to the side, landing on his shoulder. she anchors herself to him, hands bracing on them. she doesn't know if she wants to do this, but it doesn't feel fair not to. ]

I - [ she forces herself to look back at him, drawing in a breath before continuing. ] - I didn't think you'd want me. You moved on, back home. I thought you'd want to here, too.

( you moved on. he frowns, even as his thumb traces idle easy patterns on her thigh. as far as Matt remembers, he's moved on in that he'd finished his degree, started a practice with Foggy, built a life for himself without her — he doesn't remember being with Karen. not that he'd be particularly surprised, he was attracted desperately to how Karen perceived him, and it was easy to be endeared to someone so adamant about caring about and protecting others. he's had lovers since Elektra, though all rather short lived. never anyone he'd trust enough to admit the darker parts of his life. the only one who had even known about it decided caring about him that deeply was too dangerous because of it.

it takes him a bit to answer. he'd just asked for openness, he needs to offer the same as what he's asking for. it's not easy, when he's so practiced in caging his emotions and his thoughts in his head until they more or less implode. that doesn't mean he's not determined to try. )

When you left. I was convinced you'd come back. Maybe in a week, or a few months, a year... I was so sure. ( it's hard to think back to that time, when he'd nearly flunked out of all his classes, where his entire life was in desperate shambles. on one hand he was deliriously angry with her, trying to force his hand towards something she knew he'd never agree to. for disappearing in the first place. and the other was sure, dementedly certain, that since she loved him and they were two sides of one coin, two halves to one whole... that sooner, or later, she'd be back. ) I kept waiting, but you never did. You knew where I was, you knew how to find me, you just... didn't.

( it's like opening those old wounds to talk about it, and he's sure it won't be particularly enjoyable for her to hear. it's not exactly delightful for him, either. he can hear the fearful flutter in her heartbeat — whether it's the rawness of the question or fear for the answer, he's not sure. )

At some point I decided that you weren't going to. I couldn't live half a life waiting for someone that was never going to come back. ( he curls his hand around one of hers, braced against his chest. the words might sting, but he hopes to temper them with touch. ) But it was like living half a life. Nobody's ever known me like you. Either I couldn't tell them, or... or they didn't want to know. ( the angry rejection of his best friend still stings, no matter how deserved. Matt realizes he's a terrible person and the constant lies are a horrible strain on a relationship if they are to ever unravel... but in the end Foggy's reaction has more or less assured what Matt always assumed. that there are just parts of him, the angry, ugly, dark parts, that nobody would accept.

nobody except the woman that had disappeared like a breath in the wind. )

[ he brings up that she hadn't come back, that he'd thought she would, how much it had hurt him when she didn't, and she has to look away for a second, face canting down towards his chest. he might notice that her eyes are filling a little with tears she refuses to let fall. ]

He would have made me keep trying. [ stick, that is, and she looks back up into his face, her voice a little clearer as she starts to relay why she hadn't returned, even though she'd wanted to. ] He kept wanting to send me back to you, but I didn't - I didn't want to succeed in what I'd been assigned to do.

[ she'd seen what even the idea of killing the man who'd murdered his father had done to him, how it would have shattered him. she hadn't wanted to do that to him. ]

And when I - when you were attacked. [ he should know what she's referring to, when she'd killed that would-be assassin, quickly and without mercy. ] You were horrified at me. Scared of me.

[ and maybe things had changed between then and their fight on the rooftop, but that memory and the hurt associated with it hadn't disappeared. ]

( for what it is worth, he's not saying it to upset her. he's not trying to weaponize it, he doesn't really want to hurt her with what she can't change. uncomfortable as it is, it's a part of them now. better to admit it, as ugly as it is, than to hide it. she looks down and he watches her with quiet empty eyes, his thumb running light circles on the inside of her wrist. a note of comfort, for both of them really.

he could protest, insist that if she loved him she could have come anyway, it didn't matter what an old man demanded. in reality, he knows it is not that simple. he's been in the same thrall in the past, even as an adult. as a child he had far less defenses to the demands Stick had placed on him — giving a shit about the old bastard had apparently saved him from being drawn into the madness further. Elektra had never been so lucky. she hadn't seen an option to refuse, he doesn't have to ask her to know. maybe in hindsight she could, though what good could hindsight do them now? it wouldn't change anything but guilt her for things she couldn't change.

he does know what she means, though obviously he can't remember his reaction to it. Elektra mentioned him asking her to leave, though he'd never thought much of it. it sounded like a believable, reasonable reaction. he surely can't remember being dazed and horrified at the blood splayed over both of them, or hear the echoing heartbeat of a teenager slowly fading away next to him. )

I'll never be afraid of you, Elektra. ( and he means that. to be scared of her implies he has some fear that she'll hurt him — physically, anyway. and Matt has never been afraid of that, despite how visceral they both could be during sparring. he's never been afraid Elektra would truly harm him, it's usually his heart that ends up in danger when Elektra is involved. a bruise here or there doesn't matter to him.

that said, he can't discredit her entirely. he knows himself well enough that he can guess how he'd felt, why he'd reacted the way he did. ) I can't tell you I'm not horrified by the lengths you're capable of, but that doesn't mean I can't love you despite it. ( it's certainly not going to make things between them easy, Matt will simply never be okay with killing someone, especially needlessly. that said... ) You said you didn't want to succeed, to push me that far. Don't you think that means something, Elektra? If killing is meaningless, then why would it matter?

( he pauses, measuring what he wants to say. Matt is always thoughtful about what he says, and this conversation especially needs to be spoken well. )

Stick wanted both of us to fight and to kill for his war. You wanted to protect me from that, but there was no one to protect you. ( he'd been coercing her from the second he found her. to be a weapon, to follow his orders, to do as he demanded and to never question it. he convinced her to believe exactly what he wanted, that casualties were just a part of war. Matt doesn't buy that she delights in killing — however, he does buy that she was trained and groomed to be exactly as vicious and ruthless as Stick wanted her to be. that isn't her fault, though as someone who loves her, he wants more for her than that. )

[ it's not necessarily that she takes joy in killing as much as the thrill of being alive, having survived something she probably shouldn't have, taking the life of someone who would have gladly taken hers. it makes her feel powerful in a way that should probably feel more frightening and dangerous than it does. she'd lied when she'd told him that she'd taken her first life just to see if she could, but he hadn't detected it. maybe there'd been just enough truth to it to convince him, maybe it had been her convincing herself.

her heart starts beating a little faster when he says he can love her in spite of the lines she's willing to cross, the ones she'd tried to keep him from crossing himself, and she looks into his eyes in spite of knowing he can't look back into hers. this is what she'd feared, when it really came down to it, part of why she hadn't told him about how she's been feeling. she hadn't known if he could return the feelings simply knowing what they'd been through together instead of living through it.

he brings up that there was no one to protect her from stick's influence on her, and she'd known that already, but hearing him confirm it is significant in a way she hadn't expected. he doesn't know the full extent of it - how he'd found her as a child, barely out of infancy, in a village among hundreds of the dead, including her mother. he'd provided her with care and shelter, but had really been grooming her as a warrior for his own selfish needs, for control and for an army. and then had tried to snuff her out once she'd finally walked away. ]

Except for you. [ a tiny smile curves her mouth as one hand comes to frame his face again. ] You were the first one who thought I could be something more.

( no, he doesn't know the full extent. the horrifying full extent, as the case happened to be. it'd only make him more certain, that she'd had little choice and little perspective until it was too late. just like Matt's father had raised him unbearably Irish Catholic, Elektra had been trapped in a situation where the only guide she had was always skewed. Stick had some questionable morality at the best of times, and as far as his war with the Hand it mostly went out the window.

it's a story for another time. despite the fact they're both sad orphans, neither had really detailed it much. Elektra knew about his father and the details of how he died, but little about the years he'd spent in the orphanage. he had fairly little perspective on her life outside of her rich adoptive parents, ones that they'd barely bothered discussing.

he's not sure he'd agree that he's ever protected her. he's felt proof of the fact that he hasn't — Matt doesn't remember and never lived watching her cut down on a rooftop, and yet the proof of her scar under his touch makes it real enough. he hadn't protected her from Stick and he hand't protected her from the Hand. there's probably plenty in Beacon he can't protect her from, either, and it's not a fact he's particularly happy to accept.

the one thing they can agree on, though, is that he wants more for her than to be turned into someone's weapon. he leans toward her touch, and then forward, pressing his forehead against hers. ) You are more. ( he's determined to believe that — he hopes she believes it, too. )

[ he'd been willing to see more in her, even in spite of how they disagreed, even in spite of how she'd left, even in spite of moving on. maybe that's not protection, but in the end, she hadn't really been asking for protection. she'd made a choice that she'd make again, to protect him, to protect herself from being used as a weapon ever again, by the chaste or by the hand.

he knows this, but she's sure he'd have his arguments about whether or not he'd actually done anything for her and she doesn't feel like arguing that he had anymore. she doesn't feel like talking about any of this anymore, she just wants them to allow themselves to enjoy this moment, to really feel it.

her hand moves to the back of his skull, fingertips carding lightly through his hair before she pulls him closer, close enough to kiss. which she does. ]

( he knows. he definitely does still have plenty of arguments. they're all very good, which should be expected. he didn't pay for that columbia education for nothing! still, even Matt doesn't have it in him to argue endlessly. especially in a battle where there's likely no winners. no right, no wrong, just reality that can't be fought or changed, not when it's past already carved into stone. inescapable.

he can't do anything about what happened to her then. honestly there's not terribly much he can do to keep Elektra safe now. perhaps a part of accepting this requires he accept the inevitabilities. he doesn't have to like them, and he isn't ever likely to. still, knowing what can't be changed only seems to push the point that they take advantage of what they have. it won't be easy, and it'll never be perfect. it's still endlessly better than the loneliness both of them know too well. it's a far cry better than wanting more and refusing to let himself, because of the pain that will eventually find them.

it's worth the pain.

her nails hint at her scalp as her fingers pull through his hair. it's longer than he usually keeps it — easier to dishevel, Elektra is like to find. Matt likes the slight pull in his hair as she kisses him again, a little whisper of demand and possession that he has always liked, maybe more than he should. it pulls somewhere deeper, darker, a place words can't reach. not even someone as gifted at words as Matthew Murdock. it makes his response a little more urgent, maybe almost despite himself. Matt likes control, and nobody has ever managed to dissolve his restraint like Elektra. he kisses her back and allows himself to pull her closer. )

[ they both value control and hate giving it up. she'd known that back when things had first started - before they'd started, even, but that ties back into topics that she doesn't want to think about at the moment. his response to her relatively chaste kiss is eager enough for her to push things further, her fingernails biting lightly into his scalp before her hand flattens against the back of his skull, pulling him closer as she deepens the kiss, lips parting and tongue darting out, seeking permission to taste.

her arm slings around his shoulders and she shifts on his lap as she moves closer, pressing in as she pulls forward, eliminating most of the space between them. she's eager but not taking the reins just yet, wanting to make it clear that moving any further physically is up to him. ]

( it's true, he doesn't want to think about their complicated start. honestly he is quickly verging on a path where he doesn't want to think about anything. a rarity for Matt, he spends too much time thinking and often times over thinking. right now, he's falling back to a place where he wants to feel and experience more than he wants to let his thoughts run in circles. carve out paths of blame and guilt that changed nothing and made him miserable. which is not to say he won't do that, at some point. he just doesn't mean to do it now.

Matt hadn't predicted how this conversation would go, though it's safe to say he hadn't expected it to go quite this far. he'd have assumed he didn't want intimacy so soon, while she was still fragile and they were still making sense of each other in a way they hadn't let themselves in years. right now, though, he's not at all interested in letting go, setting any more lines or restrictions. even if this is as far as they go, finding simple delight in the taste and touch of each other on his musty old couch like teenagers, he thinks he'll be content.

there's a hum of approval in the back of his throat as she presses forward, eliminating space between them. he's held her a few times since she stumbled to his door in a panic, though there's something to be said about being this close because they want to be, and not because she's terrified. his hands are determined to travel, because despite his explorative touches so far... he's far from content. one is tipped through the fine strands of her hair to hold her fast as he reminds himself of the taste of her mouth. the other tightens on her hipbone, just for a moment, before moving behind her to run the sharp notches of her spine. even through the thin fabric of his shirt, it's as familiar as running his fingers along piano keys. might seem like an odd touch, if it weren't also a familiar one. he has always been fixated on the strong muscle of her back, the narrow cut of her spine. )

[ when her hallucinations had been at their worst, the only thing that had made her feel safe was his touch. it had grounded her, broken through the dangerous, vivid images, sounds, and pain to bring her back enough to reality to calm down. they've touched before then and since, but this is a different level of intimacy, one she's missed and craved, especially as they've grown close again.

there's a quiet noise of contentment from her throat as she feels his hand slip from gripping her hip to trace up her spine over her (his) shirt. her back straightens, hips rolling forward slightly as she shifts, her shoulders rolling back.

the fingers of the hand at the back of his hand twist into his hair, tugging lightly in encouragement. it has indeed gotten longer since they've arrived her, reminding her slightly of their earlier days, how his hair would get mussed and unruly during their sparring sessions or during sex. recalling that flushed, breathless excitement spikes her adrenaline and she deepens the kiss a little more before drawing her tongue back into her mouth, unleashing her teeth to nip lightly at his lower lip. ]

( it's a little like falling back through time, when everything seemed as easy as her kisses. as easy as loving her. he knows it isn't, anymore, there's so many complications he can't hardly name them all. so there's some reassurance in the fact wanting her is still so very simple.

there's at least some part of him that doesn't want to move too fast. she's plenty fragile still, whether she'd admit it or not. the rest of him is too indulgent of the closeness he's been mourning for a decade or so. it is hard to feel like there's harm in expressing what they feel in actions instead of words. in this instance, actions come a bit easier.

as he traces lovestruck patterns into her skin, even with the fabric between them, just enjoying the kiss for in an almost leisurely way. there's a hint of almost a smile at the pull of her teeth — something he's missed about Elektra is that she's never been afraid to brace her sweetness with sharpness. she's never worried about what he can or can't handle, when most of the world can't help themselves.

finally he reaches up to pull her hair over her shoulder. his shirt is sagging loosely on her far smaller frame leaving plenty of skin easily available, and with the hair out of the way he places his mouth there instead, feeling the trill of her heartbeat. the heat of her skin and the subtle smell of her that hasn't changed as much as he'd have thought, considering their circumstances. he's gentle at first, hot presses of lips over her pulse and her clavicle, but without much in the way of warning his teeth catch, just for a moment.

it's not as if he feels sorry for it either, because he sucks it after. Matthew is a bit possessive, so sue him. he likes that he'll smell that blood under her skin, and the reminder that he put it there. )

[ as much as he likes her balance of sweetness and sharpness, she loves the moments when he gets a little dominant and possessive. a quiet gasp is emitted as his teeth mark her skin, heat flaring underneath his mouth as he sucks at the mark he's made, her heart beginning to beat that much quicker. her head tips back, exposing that much more skin to him, a wordless invitation for him to continue.

the hand still at her side, tracing love notes over her body, is reached for with her hand twisting behind her back, and she captures his fingertips with her own, squeezing lightly before she pulls it to her front and rests it on her thigh, just underneath the hem of his shirt. ]

( it's little surprise, then, that so much of their history is painted with her pushing him to be possessive. to break free from his meticulously organized control and grab what he wants with both hands, and fuck being gentle about it. it'd been a lot easier to inspire that when he was younger, now he realizes how dangerous it is for him to embrace. that it's too close to dancing with the devil, that when he lets himself be impulsive he spirals out of control. he's not the same kid that followed her into a stolen lambo or would willfully break into buildings anymore, Elektra has surely noticed that.

it doesn't mean that side of him is completely absent, though. it just means it's a little harder to push him that far. it has to be deserved — and a few months of sexual tension? it's deserved.

he doesn't make another, not at the moment. it'd be expected, and he likes when he can make her heartbeat race. make her breathe those delightful little exhales, the ones that make his hair stand up on end. that said the idea of marking her is clearly tempting, even if he won't be able to see any hickeys he leaves. all the more reason to make more, it'll be easier for him to sense, to find whispers of himself still on her skin. )

I like you in my shirts. ( it's whispered against her skin, a breath against her jawbone. this isn't the first time she's wound up in something of his since they got here, but it's the first time he's let himself admit it. his hand pushes up her leg, toward her upper thigh, hooks at her hipbone as he rocks her back against him. ) I'd still like you better without it.

[ it's enticing, the ability to get someone usually so in control to let go and stop questioning the consequences and whether or not something should be done. it makes her feel powerful in a way that's proven dangerous in their past, something she knows she should keep in check now. but this is different, this feels safe. more importantly, it makes her feel alive again.

she doesn't know if it's the same for him. she hopes it is.

his mouth hovers over her skin, words and breath hot against her jawline, and her eyes close against the combined sensations of that and his hand pushing up her thigh. and before she knows it he's gripping her hip and pulling her forward, and her eyes reopen, fluttering slightly as she settles into her altered position, grinding down onto his lap. ]

So take it off. [ a smile blooms on her lips. ] Unless you want me doing all the work.

Edited 2019-12-03 01:56 (UTC)

( she does make him feel alive, though, not exactly in the same way. Matt doesn't feel his death as keenly as Elektra, he faded away after taking a few too many hits. suffering a little too much in silence, and refusing to admit how far he'd fallen until it was too late. he doesn't have a battle scar to remind him of what happened to him, it hardly feels real at the best of times, even though the fact they've died is impressed on them fairly constantly.

it's more that Elektra has always made him feel alive. she's always dragged up parts of him that Matthew has consistently tried to silence. she made him feel alive in that he could be his entire self when he was with her, not just the polished and charming parts, but the damaged and dangerous and violent parts too. it's hard not to feel alive when so often he lives half a life, half an existence for the comfort and simplicity it offers. being with Elektra is complicated, it's like traversing a landmine of their past and emotions and fears. but it's also the most whole, most complete, he's ever allowed himself to be. )

When have I ever complained about you doing all the work? ( he enjoys having her on top, even though usually they're battling for that position of control. they wouldn't be them if they didn't.

he nips at the smile curling at her mouth, mostly because he can't help himself, but after that his fingers knot in his own shirt to pull it up and off of her. it's loose enough that it's not even that difficult, and she doesn't have to worry about the cold, because about a second after it skirts off her skin he twists to press her into the couch, his body sealed against hers and her legs still hiked on either side of him. the bed just seems too far away at present. it's easier to reach her and to feel her when she's underneath him, and it just seems fair to get to be on top for a little while. his hand is free now slip up her side and curl around her breast, even as his mouth lingers under her jaw. mostly because he likes to feel any breath and gasp directly under his lips. )

[ if she'd helped him feel alive, he'd helped her feel at all. not many of the people in her life (hello, stick) had done much to make her feel like she was anything but a tool. whatever happened between them, whatever happens in the future, she'll always love him for that. ]

Never. [ but things are different. their dynamic is different, even though they haven't actually changed that much. they've just been made aware of things they hadn't known about before.

he makes quick work of the shirt and before she knows it, he's reversed their positions, pinning her beneath his weight on the couch. her thighs tighten around his hips as his hand skims up her side and she arches into his touch as he cups her breast, exhaling roughly against his cheek. ]

( her body reacts so easily, the strong press of her muscle at his sides is instantly familiar and all at once, a little foreign. it honestly might be too soon for this, even if they've probably been skirting around wanting to for months. still, when what pushed them into this moment is the idea of making the most of what time they have... well, taking things slow just for the sake of it would be a waste of it.

they had impressed on each other the importance of honesty, of saying what they were thinking and saying what needed to be said. he thinks if this is too much for her, she'll tell him, with words or with her body. right now neither are telling him to stop, and even if maybe that would be smarter, he can't make himself want to just for the sake of it.

Matt incredibly sensory, the more the better. it's enjoyable to touch her, he has always enjoyed exploring her body and making a map of it with his hands. it wouldn't be quite the same without the sharp exhale, so close to his ear. it hits him harder than just feeling her ever could, an electric current down his spine. he ducks his head to press his mouth to her throat, the hand at her breast pressing for just a heartbeat before he releases again, thumbs at her nipple in more of a tease than the grab. )

[ she's not about to. the only thing that's kept her from doing this so far, from doing so much as kissing him, is the belief that he hadn't wanted to. now that she knows he does, that he has, she's not interested in slowing down or holding back.

his thumb circles her nipple as his mouth finds her throat, and the sensations combined make her moan lowly, hips pushing up and into his, rubbing herself against his groin. she can feel his excitement and she grinds harder in response to it, the skin between her legs going slick with want. ]

You can do better than that. [ her voice is rough, husky with desire, but there's amusement in the challenge and even some sincerity. she doesn't want either of them to hold back. ]

( Elektra gets a harsh breath in response to the heady rock of her hips. he presses back almost on instinct, and it's pulling him out of the careful restraints he usually likes to operate under. of all things he laughs at her taunting — he's so used to her pushing and pulling at every inch of him, physical and emotional and everything else. it's refreshingly familiar for her to goad him on now.

can he do better? maybe. does he want to tear her to pieces just for the fact he can? not quite, at the same time. they have enjoyed their fair share of rough sex, but it's not what he's aiming for here, which might frustrate her a little... which is not exactly something Matt is against, either. Elektra is used to demanding what she wants and getting it as close to instantly as possible. of course he'd enjoy being the antithesis to that. )

Hmm, ( is the lackluster answer provided against the tawny gold of her skin, but her taunting does earn a tighter squeeze of her breast. ) The least time I had you like this was a decade ago. I'm not in any hurry. ( he wants to remember it all, savor it all, and she's not going to goad him into breaking that fixation... well, she's not going to break him quite that easily, anyway. he leans a little to tug at the waistband of her leggings, and he's quite grateful that they're easier to convince off of her than the tight jeans and dresses she used to fancy. if she'll lift up her hips to help him, anyway. )

[ he's got a point. even when she'd come back into his life, when they were working together against the yakuza and then the hand, she'd made the declaration that they shouldn't involve sex and meant it. his involvement with karen aside, she hadn't wanted complicate things any further than they already were. it was more important to her that he trust her again, especially after he'd saved her life. she doesn't know what would have happened if she'd survived that last battle on the rooftop, if that's something they would have jumped into right away or if they'd have to move past the years and dishonesty first.

they'll never know for sure, and in the end it doesn't really matter.

her spine arches into the rough of his touch and her head tilts to nip at his jawline, her teeth dragging lightly along the skin. her hips lift easily to accommodate him and she kicks as he drags the fabric down her legs, ridding herself of them as quick as she can. ]

( the leggings pull free easily, thankfully. he remembers another lifetime where he'd have to battle her clothing almost as much as he had to battle her, and the way she'd laugh and pull his hair as he struggled with the tight fabric. he remembers the sharp way her breath would catch when he eventually gave up and tore it open. she's always been fond of an undercurrent of roughness, and he doesn't think it's because she just likes the violence.

he thinks it's the urgency, that he wants her so badly he'll tear at whatever is in the way, that he'll push harder than he realizes just in his insistence.

there's something a little quieter in the undercurrent now. it's been a long time since they've been together like this, and they were practically different people. Matt doesn't want to fuck her, and he's beyond the hopeless fool that had grabbed for any closeness she'd offer, desperate to be close to someone that understood him. no, this is started on equal footing, with far more running through the moment than just lust and need. enough that a race to the finish just won't be good enough, not when there's so much of her he's missed and yearned for.

it means that even though he's got her mostly naked, once the leggings are disposed of on the floor, he just returns to lean against her fully, head turning to catch the mouth that's nibbling at his skin. the friction that the closeness provides as she shifts in his lap is just part of it — truthfully, mostly he just wants to kiss her, run his hand along the bare skin of her leg, and memorize the way her breathing changes as he touches her. )

Hey.

You seen a kid around lately? Teenaged, long hair... shorter than me. Goes by Grizz.

( he has to ask this, because he wants to be wrong. that even though Matt himself hasn't been able to pin him down, that he's getting worried over nothing. )

hey.

no, i haven't. why? what's wrong?

Edited (using proper capitalization who is she) 2019-11-06 01:24 (UTC)

Usually he's at the Invincible around the same time every night. He hasn't been there in almost a week, and I haven't managed to find him in town. He's not answering any messages.

( which means Matt might keep missing him, or that he's not feeling well, or something worse. at this point, Matt feels it's firmly in the something worse category. )

[ elektra doesn't know the kid, but the way matthew is talking doesn't signify anything good. it feels cruel to say so, though, especially when it's entirely possible that he's just exploring in the woods. ]

what are you thinking?

( what is he thinking? he's thinking that a good kid fell through the cracks, wandered a little too far, and died. he thinks that if he isn't back by now, he might not come back at all. he's thinking he should have done something sooner and this is all too little too late.

whether it's true or not, though, Matt has to at least try and look. )

He could be lost in the woods. I'm going to go see what I can find.

[ her thought is that he's among those who disappear every so often, that maybe it's just too soon to be announced on the bulletin yet. she also thinks that matthew is no doubt blaming himself for the kid going missing, thinking of the what-ifs and the would've-could've-should've-didn'ts. it's not exactly an ideal state of mind for a search and rescue, especially in these woods. ]

i'm coming with you. we're going to need to prepare.

( wow, if "what's the root cause for catholic guilt today" were a gameshow, Elektra would for sure win! because a big ol' ding ding ding on all that. too bad there's no prize for winning this particular game... . . . .. )

I have enough for a few days ready. ( which indicates that he's already pretty certain Grizz isn't anywhere in town, and he only asked out of pointless hope to be proven wrong.

his gut instinct is to refuse backup outright. a part of him still considers it, truth be told, though that has more to do with his mood than anything else. )

You don't have to do that. I'll check in and I won't go far. ( Matt more or less knows he's going on a pointless venture. he's not going to ask Elektra to dreg through the dark with him when he's fairly confident there's nothing to find. )

[ truly unfortunate, because she's pretty sure she'd win the sweepstakes if matthew were the subject. ]

'not too far' could mean anything with you, matthew. we have each other's backs, remember? unless you'd prefer to search alone.

No, I don't want to be alone.

( for a search, or in general. he doesn't admit that near as often as he should, considering how much he means it. )

I remember. You're right, we'll be safer together. I'll need to prep more for two, but I can be ready within an hour.

[ odd how even with how much they've shared lately, they still have trouble admitting this kind of thing to each other. she doesn't want to be alone any more than she wants him to venture out there alone. ]

okay. i'm going to gather some things, too. i'll come to your place.

I'll be ready.

( that's the only answer he has, there's not much left to say. true to his word, he'll be ready to head out into the dark once she arrives. )

( even though "delivered" is a strong word for "left stuff around their house for Elektra to find."

it's all just subtly there now. a very expensive bottle of tequila in the kitchen. some orchid perfume just magically found its way in behind the mirror in the hideously salmon colored bathroom.

and a pair of twin sai nicely nestled in the drawer she's claimed as her "what i'd wear if i need to fuck somebody up" drawer.

it's not for christmas, exactly, but also, merry christmas, babe. )

[ it's raining, but wanda barely notices the water soaking into her skin, clinging to her hair — she knocks on elektra's door, trying to keep her focus on what's solid in front of her. ]

[ wanda arrives when matthew is out, and elektra is both surprised to see her and not. she comes to the door in leggings, a loose sweater (likely pilfered from matthew) and bare feet, silent when she comes to the door and when she steps aside to let wanda in. ]

[ she meets elektra's eyes when the door opens, but the contact quickly breaks. the gratitude is in the momentary flicker of her fingers against elektra's wrist, covered in that borrowed sweater, as she passes by into the dwelling. it's as much in thanks as it is for grounding herself in the moment, in space and time.

she's seen too much, and she doesn't feel contained within her skin. ]

May I?

[ but she's already sitting on the couch before asking permission. ]

[ her eyes flick to wanda's hand on her wrist, an eyebrow slightly raised at the brief but intimate gesture. they go back to her face once it's broken and remain on her form as it heads towards the couch, settling into a seated position before elektra can voice her permission. ]

Sure, since you've already done it. [ but her tone isn't unkind. ] What did you see?

I don't know.

[ she does, and she doesn't. ]

Death. Small children lost; and then grown, still lost — I know them. And I also don't—

[ wanda's voice is halting, confused, and she scratches at her right forearm — something that seems habitual... there are welts and marks there, now, where she has been pulling at her skin. pulling scales from it. ]

...Elektra, I saw sunlight. I still see it.

[ her eyes move back up to her friend's face, glassy, brimming. ]

[ elektra comes to sit in front of her, on the table set in front of the couch. her eyes go to wanda's arm as she scratches and her eyes go a little wide at the damage she's done to herself. which seems like less of a concern to wanda herself as she goes on about what she'd seen, what she still sees. ]

Where? Everywhere?

[ she has to think for a moment; her eyes flit to the window— it flares soft and bright like and early afternoon, then fades. night again. night that stretches on without end. ]

N... no, not everywhere. It comes and goes.

[ wanda looks back at her friend's face, tries to center herself in it. noticing her expression, finally, she haphazardly tugs at her sleeve. ]

Did you see memories?

Yes.

[ she doesn't feel they're hers to share, but she'll share non-descript details of them that don't implicate those involved if it helps wanda to heal from this. ]

[ with her elbows on her knees, bent forward, wanda clasps her hands together. ]

Have they... affected you? The way you see things, the way you think?

Not in the same way it seems they've affected you.

[ but then they experience things differently anyway. elektra doesn't know the full extent of wanda's abilities, but she knows there's a certain amount of sensing the other person in them. ]

It was a second before I could come back to myself, the first time. It was like I was experiencing what they had as them.

[ wanda nods, staring fixedly down at her hands. as she suspected. she shouldn't have dared to hope otherwise. it wasn't symptomatic of the town; it was her, just her and her vulnerabilities yet again. finally, she speaks, not much more than a whisper. ]

I have sequestered myself in my room for a week, and it will not abate. Can I —

[ she feels her skin crawl at her daring, taunting her for how pathetic and useless she is, can almost visualize the next scale emerging, and she winces. ]

— can I stay with you two? For a night. Maybe two.

[ she nods after a moment, looking at wanda's hands as well. what she can see of the nails looks almost as bad as her arms had, dried blood and dead skin gathered underneath, and she wonders how long this has been happening. ]

I'll need to ask to be sure, but I doubt it'll be a problem. [ she doubts matthew will have a problem with a friend in need staying the next couple nights. ]

[ wanda nods. matt and elektra treasure their privacy as highly as wanda does hers, so she understands, as close as the three of them have become. it pains her to even ask, for that reason as much as to have to venture away from her shell. but something beyond her pride, something like wisdom above sea level and treading water, brought her here, even as she's dripping with rain. ]

Thank you. I promise not to make a mess.

[ a small smile, almost jocular, if wan. ]

[ privacy was a necessity for them in life and remains so in death, but as solitary as elektra had been (and still is, most of the time), she's grown to see the necessity of having people close as well. there aren't many she's extended that too (some of them are gone now), but wanda's on that list for sure.

the smile's returned, and elektra nods as she stands. ]

Of course. Want anything while we wait? Tea, maybe a towel?

[ wanda finds herself exhaling in relief on a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. she follows elektra to stand, not knowing what else to do with herself. tremors follow in her vision — her legs wobble, and yet they don't. ]

A towel would be wonderful, thank you. I'll help with the tea.

Edited 2020-03-01 04:18 (UTC)

[ she nods, gesturing towards the kitchen while she heads to the bathroom to find a towel. there's a bit of a tremble in her movements that suggest that she ought to find clothing for wanda, too, but she'll need to be dry before those will do any good. ]

There's a few options to choose from. [ since she moved in, there's been more variety in what's been stocked in the kitchen, though they're still usually limited to what the store has to provide. ] I'll be right back.

[ as elektra disappears into the hall, wanda moves into the kitchen area she's familiar with, finding herself glad to be here, glad to have come — here to a place where she's a frequent visitor, knows her way around.

in the cabinets she finds a chamomile blend, then pulls a kettle from it's home and fills it with water. it's here, she gets a good look at the state of her hands... her nails.

suddenly she's taking a sponge and scrubbing furiously, heart racing. ]

[ it takes her a few moments to find not only a towel, but a spare shirt and a pair of leggings for her to put on. when she comes back downstairs, she finds wanda not at the stove, but at the sink, scrubbing frantically at her hands. ]

Wanda? [ she calls out before approaching, setting the clothes and towel on the kitchen table as she comes closer. ]

[ by this point she's moved on from her fingernails, her hands — all the way up her scuffed and scratched forearms, where indentations marr her flesh, places where she's pulled foreign bodies out of herself, but they keep coming back.

she tries to answer but she can't stop scrubbing, she can't. ]

...It's not my skin anymore, [ she hisses out breathlessly, ] it's not. Elektra —

[ she doesn't hesitate, rushing over to the sink and turning it off before taking wanda's hands in her own. there are scales protruding from her skin, underneath the scars and indentations, and she finds herself taken aback for a moment before looking back up at her. ]

...Okay. Okay, we're going to fix this, all right? We're going to clean these up and bandage them so you don't keep hurting yourself. Is that okay?

[ she shakes her head quickly. ]

No — no, I can't leave them in there —

[ wanda tries to pull her hands back to her chest. ]

— please, Elektra, I have to pull them out...

So we'll pull them out, but not by you tearing up your skin.

[ elektra holds firm, but it's not easy. ]

We've got tweezers, okay? We'll get them out.

[ she falters in elektra's grip. okay, okay, they'll pull them out— ]

But they keep coming back...

[ it's only a whisper, but so full of thick and tangible fear. ]

...I'm a monster. I have always been a monster, and now I have the parts to prove it...

[ that sounds familiar, and it hurts elektra to hear someone else say it, to believe it about themselves. ]

We both are. Okay? I'm going to help you with this and we're going to figure out a way for you to live with it. But you're going to be okay.

[ soon after law had finally waken up in the submarine, got himself out of the seat he'd been strapped to, and come to the conclusion he was no longer in immediate danger of dying...

well, to be fair, the first thing he had done was go back to the inn and see cora-san.

the second was to keep the promise he'd made back there in helix.

it's nearly night (for as much as that means nothing here in perpetual darkness) when he makes it to the church — he'd been told that was where resurrected people woke up in, and he remembers still, the dead man, and the way the woman he'd helped had stuck to his side.

when he gets closer, it's easy enough to sense her presence there, too, so he pushes open the door (not teleporting inside, he'd seen how she fought, not keen to surprise her like that) and calls out, deadpan, ]

The doctor will see you now.

[ look he has plenty sympathy for elektra waiting for matt to be resurrected and he may even express that eventually... for now, though, there's just him being a gremlin. ]

[ he's not likely to be pleased to see how she's been taking care of herself.

the cuts have been tended to and the bandages changed as often as she remembers to do so (which is actually fairly regularly, she needs something to do while waiting), but she's been in the church since working on restoring matthew's lantern. her only stops since then had been to retrieve the adopted tree spirit (who is currently napping beside her on the pew) and to the invincible to retrieve a few supplies. she's barely slept and is still fighting off the nausea and wooziness from the decompression sickness, so she hasn't done much eating, either.

her attention's drawn immediately to the door, even before he announces himself, just weary enough to still be wary of any sudden movement or noise (so yes, good call on not teleporting in). she straightens, giving treeby a quick once-over before going to meet him at the church's entrance. ]

You're looking considerably less bloody. [ ...this is elektra for 'thanks for checking in'. ]

I could say the same to you.

[ though he'd hardly go as far as to say she's looking "alright"... "passable" seems more accurate. he eyes her arm critically, then shifting his gaze to fall on her, as if to say, you could have done a better job.

but then, he also knows very well how easy it is to feel indifferent about something like that. ]

How is it? [ her wrist, that is. ]

[ there's a mild shrug of her right shoulder, as if to say 'yeah, i know'. she's not laboring under any delusions that she's done a great job at taking care of herself, but sleeping on a church pew for another day or so isn't going to kill her. ]

About as well as can be expected. [ considering it's broken and all. ] It aches. And I don't feel great overall, which I thought would wear off once we got back to the surface.

[ her stomach roils for a second and she grimaces, swallowing against it. ]

Hm.

[ his brows furrow — he wonders if that's something that is an effect left behind by the battle, perhaps a hit to the head that hadn't been noticeable... or if it's something else. ]

That shouldn't be a symptom. Have you been able to eat or drink? [ two out of three, he thinks. if she's sleeping... that's one. but she needs to fulfill one of the other two, too.

as he talks, he turns to walk to the nearest pew, gesturing for her to sit down. it'll be easier to set the cast like that, rather than her standing up. ]

[ the descent to helix and the trip back up had been rough on her. she doesn't remember getting hit in the head and her head doesn't hurt outside of the quiet, persistent ache that comes from not properly sleeping or processing grief, so she'd written it off. she's sure he'll check to make sure she's not wrong, though.

has she been able to? sure. has she been? not really. she debates answering the question technically but however good at lying she is, she's pretty sure he'd see through it. and it's probably best not to piss off the person who can help restore her arm back into a more functional state. ]

No. [ she takes a seat, holding the arm in question out to him. ] I haven't really wanted to.

Edited 2020-08-23 19:53 (UTC)

Then you have no one to blame but yourself.

[ he manages to sound somewhat irritable, here, though not because he's annoyed, per se... but rather because the last thing she needs is to make her own situation worse. ]

Room.

[ with a flick of his fingers, he removes the splint, and then swiftly reaches for his sword, holding it in front of him. ]

Scan.

[ don't mind him as he checks her well-being by literally scanning her body, identifying everything that's wrong at once. ]

Your wrist is healing, but not as well as it could. You don't have a concussion, so your symptoms aren't because of your head. It's more likely because of exhaustion and dehydration. [ sighing, he slings kikoku back over his shoulder. ]

I know you're waiting for the dead to resurrect, Elektra-ya, but I didn't think that involved keeping yourself from getting better.

[ her neutral, if unhappy, expression shifts into irritation at his first sentence, and she fumes silently as he removes the splint and uses his sword to scan her for any further injuries or illness. ]

I don't want him to be alone when he wakes. [ it's meant to sound harsher than it is, but she's too drained for it to have as much bite as she wants it to. which kind of proves his point, much to her chagrin. ]

[ law steps back and gives her a look. ]

Believe it or not, I understand.

[ if it was rosinante here... he'd be doing the same thing, waiting for him to wake. ]

But when he does wake, do you think what he wants to see is you, half-dead of exhaustion and injuries? [ then, with a raised eyebrow and a flat tone, ] Unless that's what he likes.

[ look he just wants her to take care of herself and not ignore her own health here. which is him being a giant hypocrite, but let's not focus on that.

because room is still activated, he expands it further, further, until it reaches to the nearest place he can feel has some water and a sandwich. (it may be soldat on his patrol. oops.) suddenly, they're in his hands, and he holds them out to her. ]

Here. You've got one working arm. Eat while I fix up the other.

inbox | in the night.

TEXT | un: HK

un: badeaux

look at all those semicolons what was i on when i wrote that

about as many exposition parentheses as i'm on on any given day

between your parentheses and my semicolons we will punctuate the world!!!!

get ready to get edited, world!!!

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backdated ( prompting exploration ).

do you want to go explor-innnnng~

or ride our bikes around the towwwwnnnnn

i don't know the words well enough to continue :(

smth smth let's go get eaten by spirits the end OK BYYYYYEEEE \o/

that segues nicely into old town road

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i feel like a monster for this but i don't have kiss icons for them yet

omg this betrayal

meanwhile you out here using kissies against me smh

i ain't done yet either :*

A MONSTER!!!

THAT'S MEEEEEEE

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now who's using icons against who!!!

at some point i'll torture you worse consider this a promise

BRING IT ON (fight to the finish)

WHO WILL WIN??? ? ? (it's not like i can cheat and make more as i go)

WELL THAT ONE JUST HAD YOU LEAPING AHEAD

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