a broken shadow

It's - she's not sure what to expect that it to feel like, but it wasn't something warm.

And in a few seconds, Gwen is larger, stronger, and she's completely and totally filled. Whatever words were on the tip of her tongue are swallowed up by sounds nothing short of filthy as she adjusts to the size and strength and movement.

"Fucking - fuck - Shi - Gwen.. Venom." She's trying to say anything, but her mind is blank, and her sentences just devolve into whimpers as her leg is lifted up over Venom's hip, while her fingers dig into the inky black substance.

Her wounds have begun their long healing process, and they itch, day and night. The rags that cover her face like a mummy's are half there to keep her from scratching at the healing skin, and half to spare the others from the gruesome sight of her mangled face. The leaves have begun to change color, nature's sign of the passage of time. Van's pretty sure that it's been almost a month since Laura Lee got on that fucking plane because of her, and she feels like she at least owes it to the blonde to look after Lottie. And also because if anyone would have an idea of what she'd seen out in the woods while on an honest to god funeral pyre, it would be Lottie.

All she can do is nod at Van's answer, shifting her gaze away from the grim mangled features - though still covered - and back towards the leaves and the rising sun. She blinks. Slowly. As if she might still be waking up or realizing that she's not alone out here on the porch. She shifts and looks down at her arms, covered in goosebumps from the chill in the air. Another slow blink. "I.. yeah. It's chilly."

"Share what?" She asks, shoulders sinking visibly as she takes it in, tries to let herself believe what Kate Bishop's saying. "I fucking eat people, Kate!"

Saying it outloud, to another person makes it real and that makes her eyes boil over whether she likes it or not.

"I can't live unless people die. Do you know what it's like to know that? To know the only thing between me and ripping your throat out is making sure I rip somebody else's out? How are you gonna help me shoulder that? How can you help me shoulder that?"

Gwen's eyes search every tiny twitch in Kate's expression, halfway hoping she isn't half as strong as she knows she is - its simple math, the longer Kate's around her, the more likely it is that Gwen gets her killed, or worse, does it herself. Maybe it'll be enough. Enough to chase her way so that Gwen can't hurt her, can't be close enough to hurt her.

Kate winces at the snap, but doesn't let it deter her. When she found out -- she was horrified, of course she was horrified. But it's still Gwen. And she still cares about her, still more than cares about her. "I don't know how I can. All I know is that I want to."

They're able to clear out the rest of them in short order, but Kate barely has time to grab onto something and shift her balance so she won't get knocked down by Colleen's fist slamming into the asphalt. It rocks her. It always rocks her. But she recovers quickly, kicking a guy into the face to knock him out once she spotted him trying to stand up.

There's always this predatory sense inside of Gwen when the people they - she cares about are made to be upset, or frightened, or otherwise put into the push and pull of human tribulation. Her first instinct on seeing Kate this upset is a pull at the back of her mind to hunt and prey on whoever's responsible, and this, of course, is tamped down by the revelation that Kate is talking about her mother.

This puts Gwen in the position of consideration; what if it were her father? It's a human quirk to try and relate one's own situation to another's; the symbiote sees this as impractical and has tried to break Gwen of the need to empathize to poor result.

The touch is gentle - but it opens the floodgate. More tears spill down her cheeks, lip wobbling, and her vision blurring as her eyes squint together in an attempt to stem the flow. She sniffles, and turns her head downwards against her hand, but to nuzzle against the touch and kiss the palm of her hand. It's then that she can feel herself starting to calm down some. Finally.

"Are you sure? Are you sure we can navigate this? It doesn't feel like.. It doesn't feel like it's possible."

Kate bites down into her lower lip at the poking and prodding around her wounds and has to roll her eyes at Gwen's straight up grin up at her. If she didn't think moving would make it all worse, she'd shove Gwen in the shoulder. Instead, she just leans back and heaves out a heavy sigh.

"I am holding still." She murmurs, "Don't - ah! You fucker!" She nearly kicks her feet and squirms when the rag is brought to the wound proper - it burns, but it's starting to feel a bit better.

Cindy perches on a wall, preferring a position higher up where she can have the best vantage point. The rock sparkling on @ofvalor's finger catches her eye even from fifty feet away. It's foolhardy to even ask that question to Felicia. There's no trust between them, at least not yet. She knows she has to fight her way in after having been SHIELD's lackey for so long, but she's determined to do it. Albert is worth it. Finding out more about her parents is worth it. If she has to play nice with a few known criminals, then so be it.

Felicia's gaze lifts back up to Cindy, peeling the rings off of her fingers to lay them neatly in a row - taking her time to do it gingerly. The more time in between saying anything the more time it gives Cindy to either fill the silence or give herself more time to think it over. Once all the adornments are off, she stands and moves to the window, one hand on her hip.

There is a prickle of irritation at the base of her spine, different from the typical gentle exasperation she feels towards Carina. Trying to win her over has been one of the harder things that Dom has done in her lifetime, and she doesn't know what it is about Carina that keeps dragging her back like some lovelorn kid when she definitely knows better. The sentence feels heavy and loaded between them, and maybe that's why she snaps back at her. The push and pull can be hot, and Dom's no stranger to being a dirty little secret, but she also wants better for herself.

"What act?" she throws up her hands, a scowl planted firmly on her face. The very words make her feel sick, like Carina thinks she's just been pretending this whole time. Like she makes a habit out of carefully tracking other people's schedules to try and catch a glimpse of her between classes, or browsing bookstores to find her favorite poetry anthologies to give to random women. Dom wonders if maybe that's the way the other girl feels, and a hot flush crawls down her neck. "Why the fuck is it so difficult for you to believe that I might actually be into you? That this is fucking real for me?"

Carina holds the book tightly to her chest, like it's a lifeline. She hadn't meant for the words to come out like that - they hadn't been an accusation, but a soft realization. And now Dom is angry. She's weak, again, because she'd not been trying to take care of herself like she should again. The food that Dom brought is sitting on the end table, another salad with her favorite toppings and the dressing she hates the least. It's so fucking thoughtful, and yet Carina can't admit to herself that it feels good to be taken care of, to be thought of.

So it doesn't feel real. And Dom knows why. It's not a secret between the two of them why it's so difficult for her to accept this, but she hadn't expected the anger.

Any other time she might find the strength to fight back, but she's afraid if she moves too quickly, she'll pass out. "I.. like it." She finally murmurs. She moves - slowly - to sit down on her dorm bed and reaches for the salad. It's at least something to prove she appreciates all of this. It's also the first time she's attempted to eat in front of Dom, despite all of the hand delivered food.

"Can you stay for a bit?"

Her heart is racing and she rubs at the phantom ache in her neck. She's healed now, as though nothing happened at all, but that's the furthest thing from the truth. While she can't bring herself to blame Hope for this, there's undeniably a part of Josie that is pained because she knows what will come eventually. Hope Mikaelson's emotions were legendary at Salvatore, even before anyone had known that she was a Mikaelson, and now with the enhanced emotional energy of a vampire? She's worried about her.

But there is no time to think about that, not when Hope is grabbing her by the arm and speeding her to their next destination. Unlike all the other times when she's been ferried around by a vampire, Josie didn't feel nauseous this time around, almost feeling like she was moving a semi-normal pace. Was that the transition?

Her senses are overwhelmed as she takes in the sights and sounds of Bourbon Street. Everything is louder and brighter, and she swears she can smell the bucket of aftershave that the frat president on the other side of the street doused himself in. The world looks so different like this, in a way that she'd never imagined it before, like a veil has been lifted from her eyes. She understands a little better why her mom loves being a vampire, despite all of the potential downsides of it. The world feels more alive now. Josie feels more alive now.

She watches Josie take it all it, a somewhat smug expression playing on her features. Despite the usual boredom that came with having no emotions and no humanity, this is exciting. Watching someone who knew magic, but never knew what the true power of being a hybrid felt like -- God, she wanted to see how drunk on power Josie would truly get, if at all. And if not, Hope would force the issue. Couldn't have someone sitting around trying to 'fix' her.

"You don't need to know how to compel someone." She drawls it out, with a heavy sigh. There's so many people around them, it doesn't take much for her to reach out and grab a younger looking adult and twist them around with a soft-spoken 'don't scream.' She holds them in place while the crowd moves around them, the din of it and the sound of the music covers up any sound that they might have made. "I can obviously do it for you."

"You make that sound like a bad thing." She's pouting, not that she really means it, but she likes the expression that Eleanor gets when she does. It's only Tuesday after all, and it's been nice to not have to think about the drudgery of a small town high school where nothing happened. Ditching had become more and more commonplace among their friend group, and Susie has no problem enticing Eleanor into a little debauchery with them.

Girls like her had made Susie's life a living hell and there is a perverse pleasure in drawing the popular girl in, all to slowly ruin her life. Maybe. That is the original plan but the smaller girl hums as she cuddles into Eleanor's side, paint-flecked nails scratching lightly against the other's stomach. Susie likes the warmth and the way Eleanor smells underneath her expensive perfume. Like sweat and soap and she sucks another hickey into Eleanor's throat because she can't help herself from wanting to see what she looks like all marked up. Besides she has to find something to occupy her time whenever Julie is off doing whatever she does with Frank.

It is a bad thing. The dark circles under her eyes are much more pronounced since insomnia has been such a common factor in her life now. She wipes at her eyes and stifles a yawn at the reminder of how little sleep she's gotten over the past few days. She had no idea how she found herself here with.. Susie of all people.

Still, she finds she doesn't mind the way it feels to have the smaller girl cuddled into her side, even though she knows the moment someone walks by she'll disentangle herself from her. Eleanor hisses slightly at the way it feels when Susie works on making yet another mark on her neck.

The growl hits her ears and Nat looks up to her. "You're a fucking psycho, I'm just saying you need to chill." Still, she whispers it - she means it - they need their rest, and they don't need the stress of another dust-up, and if she's really supposed to be the leader she needs to learn to handle things by herself. She has so much more she wants to say - how all this wouldn't even be happening if she hadn't fucking lost it on Lottie. They wouldn't have gone insane trying to protect her. But instead, Nat just sits there, looking up. She'll take it if she has to.

Her knuckles feel sharp underneath her skin, like if she clenched her fingers against her palm tight enough, the bones would break through the thin layer and she'd cover them all in gore in an attempt to release herself from the rage that's all-consuming. Natalie looks up at her and she looks exhausted, like all of them are. The ruined plane barely provides warmth - there's barely a shelter above them, and Shauna feels like a woman possessed with the way she's baring down on Nat.

How dare she be the one they all bow down to? She should be dead. Her lips curl up into something akin to a wolf-like snarl, and she fucking shakes - out of excitement, anticipation, fear, anger.. she doesn't know, she doesn't care. But she kneels down in front of Nat and grabs the front of her torn shirt to yank her forward.

It's a precarious bubble that they've constructed for themselves, amidst their peers and classmates. Anyone who looked a little too closely at them might say something, but she doubts it. Not when most of the student body is a little bit afraid of Shauna Shipman. The assembly itself passes in a blur, and Lottie isn't paying much attention to anything other than the way her finger brushes up against Shauna's while the principal drones on about something or another.

When they're dismissed, she follows after her teammate, slowly and casually in a way that doesn't draw attention from anyone else, not that people usually are watching her. They're used to Lottie being spacey and distant, lost amidst the fogginess that her meds can sometimes bring, and it allows her to slip through the halls mostly unnoticed.

Shauna drops her hand away from the shirt, satisfied with it, and leans back against the wall with a sigh. She's still so keyed up about Jackie, and the way Jeff keeps fucking making it obvious that he's interested in her. It's frustrating. But Lottie's a softer place to land. But in answer to her question if she's okay, Shauna shakes her head with a heave of a sigh.

The idea of going over is appealing, though. She searches Lottie's face, dark eyes searching dark eyes. "Yeah." It's almost too soft, her own want right there at the surface. "Chinese and catching up on that Xena show Van keeps talking about?" She knows they're not gonna watch the show. They both know. But it's a good excuse for anyone listening in.

"1993," she replies flatly, clearly a deflection from the subject at hand, though she knows it won't save her for long. Kate Bishop is tenacious in her curiosity, with a burning drive to see something in Yelena that she's fairly certain has not ever been part of her vernacular. Whereas girls like Kate had their sugar, spice, and everything nice, Yelena knows that if she could be distilled so simply, it would be blood, tears and more than a little spite.

"You might not want it." She starts with a grumble, "But you're getting it anyways." She doesn't have a chance to reach for Yelena before she's running off towards the next building. Kate swears and makes for the other end of the building - where she knows Yelena will make her exit. She might not be able to take her in a fight, but she's good at paying attention and keeping track of things. Using a grappling arrow, she slides down the side of the building - the landing much rougher than she wanted to, but not allowing herself time to recover before she's running off to the alley where her bike sits.