#psiylock

          you hear the plea before you turn your head, a faint tremor in the air reaches you like a whispered ripple before the wave breaks. your office—— once a sanctuary of stillness, a space where you could retreat into the calm hum of the xavier institute's corridors, suddenly feels fuller. it's not the walls that close in around you, but the presence behind you; betsy.

her demeanor is fragile and heavy—— you can feel her pressing against your consciousness like an urgent pulse. soft, but thrumming. you pause, just long enough to allow the weight of her request to settle into the marrow of your bones. the truth. it always comes down to that, doesn't it? honesty—— the way it cuts through everything like a scalpel, clean but often brutal. the irony isn't lost on you—— how you, of all people, have wrestled with the weight of truth. OF WHAT IT COSTS TO KNOW AND SHARE IT. you inhale slowly, turning your head at last, cultivated compassionate eyes meeting hers. it's almost too natural, bridging others' pain and your own. a balancing act of carrying the burdens of others while you tremble beneath the surface. but, she needs you now—— if not by how she stormed into your office, but by the urgency in her voice.

          ❝ of course, betsy. ❞ the weight behind those three words feels vast, extending past all the things seen / all the truths you've learned to carry. you sit up straighter, the leather chair creaking beneath you. head tilting to the side, you reach out mentally—— the echoes of her pain radiating. tendrils of uncertainty and doubt. it resides with her like a bruise. the hand may no longer hold her nor wield her as a weapon, but the shadows left behind still cling to her like a cloak, staining the edges of her consciousness like dark ink spreading throughout the water. EVERYONE WANTS HONESTY UNTIL THEY RECEIVE IT. some people crack under the pressure (you surely did) and there's a part of you—— a deep, guarded corner of your mind—— that remembers when you uttered the same plea. drowning as the phoenix. a breath is released through your nose, almost in resignation before folding your hands in your lap.