#mohnghxle

@bvrnedman : Toasty Immortal Mormon!

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Mohan’s mouth had been set in a sharp, worried line for some time now. The furrow between his brows seemed permanent. His eyes don’t leave Mairwen. He has been committing every new behavior to memory. It would do for her to cut the throat of a doctor meaning to treat her wounds. He makes no moves to comfort except comforting words. He seems somewhat capable of that, his hugs were stiff and unwelcoming things. He let her keep the knife. He would have given her all of them, if he knew it would settle the tremble that shook her so violently. Mohan’s expression does not change at her sudden grip. It is painful, but it is nothing compared to what Mairwen has suffered. Even when she leans into him, he makes no move to pat her shoulder or embrace her in a hug. He has suffered such things, and when they ended he wished for space. Mohan doesn’t want to make her retreat into the safety of her own mind. “I left a few alive for you, betee.” His voice is soft, gentle, low. “Just for you, when you are ready.”

His words, the promise that some of them had been left alive just for her to deal with calmed her. Cleared out her mind. It gave her something to focus on. An idea beyond the moment. She nodded, her grip on both him and her knife loosening only slightly. The dents in her palm from her knife’s handle would remain for a bit longer, but she wouldn’t be leaving furrows in Mohan’s arm with her nails.

But it made her shake more noticeable.

❝Good.❞ Her voice was low, practically breathed out. She stayed there, leaning her head against him. She’d have scolded herself for the words if she’d thought about it, but they came out. ❝I shouldn’t listened to you.❞

{ [ kidnapped and tortured for a week ] }@mohnghxle

She was shaking. She couldn’t stop herself from shaking, hands trembling, unable to keep them steady. She wasn’t sure when had gotten her the knife back, but she kept it clutched in one fist, the balisong folded up. It wasn’t like she needed it right then, but its weight was comforting.

The words reminded her, sharply, of where she was and where she had been. It was hard to breath for a moment as she gasped for breath as it hit her, her empty hand reaching out and latching onto Mohan’s arm. She looked over at him, her eyes wide and she felt the tears on her cheeks.

She didn’t really care.

Knuckles white, she leaned into him, resting her forehead against him. ❝Are they dead or can I kill them?❞ 

“You could have fooled me, ladakee.” Mohan mops up the last of his rice in his bowl and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. He shifts on his haunches, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He follows the ritual of straightening it before sticking it in his mouth and lighting it with a lighter he pilfered from Min.

“Were is your husband, huh?” He squints at her through the filter of smoke before prodding at a bowl of watery vegetable soup with a slip of jerky. “You should be chasing little ones at your age. Better hurry up, before you end up with a husband that herds ugly goats.”

She rolled her eyes at him as he continues to call her ‘girl’. It annoyed her. She specifically hadn’t been called ‘ladakee’ by anyone since she actually had family. [Which was actually also why she hadn’t threatened him to stop yet either.]