#taronpi

she speaks with bravado laced in the undercurrents of her timbre,     pain masqueraded with the barest of a smile.     taron notes the way that it chips away at the edges with each passing millisecond,    her mask dropping as the haunting reality carves into both of their heads,     playing out an image as if they are both watching it on a big screen.        "yeah,    but...      selene,"      taron starts,     wary of continuing at risk of persuading her to back out.      but she deserved to recognize what it is that they are about to embark on.

"it's not just a little pain,"      he replies,     narrowing his eyes curiously,    as though he wonders if she realizes what it is that he is asking her to do.       "it's finding manticore."      her home,    though the halls may be run with blood and the screams of her past,     it was where she grew up.     it was where her nightmares have blossomed into terrors,    into realities that no one would ever imagine to be their own.      "and possibly breaking into it."      he can feel the quicken cadence of his pulse echoing in the room,    fear clutching around his neck like a noose,    teasing the edge of the rope to wrap tighter and tighter.      "you sure you're going to be okay with that?"

call it a death wish or finding a more useful purpose for her pain,  but the words don’t register as her gaze finds his own once again.   maybe this was all she had left  —  be a good soldier,  show them what a mistake they made in thinking she was defective,   take on one last mission to prove she’s no longer that fragile little girl.    part of her is afraid though;   knowing that even if they were successful in infiltrating the walls of manticore there was a chance that neither taron nor her would make it out alive.   or worse. . .  she would make it out,  but not recover from re-opening the wound of surviving it.    it’s not just a little pain.

" actually , " liz tossed the end of her cigarette to the side with a flick of her fingers . " we fuckin' are , taron . " liz had always had this sensation that they fell short each time , that every time they tried to grasp the closeness that they could have , they just ... didn't reach far enough . it left her , each time , with a bitter taste in her mouth and an ache throughout her empty hands . " it's been - a fuckin' decade of seeing you kill yourself so it's long overdue that we have this conversation . " her voice was firm , weight shifting from one leg to the other .

even her father had asked a few times about that , poor brian with his addict daughter and the children he'd taken in , with the ability he'd had to develop to detect the danger in a behaviour before it even finished developing , because he hadn't been able to stop his daughter from falling into that pit . he had asked if liz knew something , if he was alright . and he wanted to be stupid and avoidant about this ? " if you don't have a problem , why can't we talk about it ? just , y'know , prove me wrong . "

there was a vacant place ( not gracie's , god that one was never empty ) , one that always brought her a sense of guilt whenever she thought about taron . about fucking time she allowed her hands to reach the distance . / @taronpi !

" living just comes with a bit of heartache . "

day in , day out . breathe in , breathe out , and time could slowly slip through her ankles like water at the beach . and maybe she could be alright . if only gracie's face wasn't always on tv . they had been so young , too young . addie and her remained friends , and whether that was good or bad for one another , it was hard to tell . a bit of both . the young woman switched the radio station when the newscaster began talking : a recollection of tragedies . a father shot his wife and son in a fit of rage , a child drowned at sea , there was a tsunami on the atlantic coastline , and you might need an umbrella on tuesd -- THAT SOMEONE IS YOU , I INTEND TO BE INDEPENDENTLY BLUE ... nina's voice drone out in a live version of love me or leave me that managed to have liz on her feet and retrieving the dough from under a cloth , next to the seeping warmth of the oven .

it was okay . she was trying again .

the cellphone interrupted her reverie , the way her feet moved in short swing steps , a turn here , a shimmy there , jazz hands ! and the name on the screen : TARON . just his name . and the same number he'd had for a decade . ignoring the tremor in her soul , liz wiped her hands on the apron around her waist and picked up , simultaneously lowering the radio volume . " taron , hey -- " to this day she didn't know how to face him . " -- what's up , all good ? " is anyone else dead ?

@taronpi​ said :   “   go on,    then.  chastise me.   ”   //   bridgerton starters.

the sentiment is there,  that much is true.    but selene struggles to understand why.   why does it matter if she was in danger or not?    she was always in danger  —  always a target for manticore’s sniper and maybe even more so now that she’s been marked as their traitor.    it’s a title that doesn’t quite make sense to her:  she wasn’t the one who planned the escape or even took that first jump.    that was all max — why wasn’t she considered a traitor?   it didn’t help her to think about it for too long.     she was a traitor to apollo,  betrayed helo’s trust. . . how much worse could it get?     selene shakes her head as she tries to understand the weight of his words.      did they hold as much weight to him as they did her?    did he intend for it to mean something more?      “  you’re better off not worrying about me,  ”    she murmurs,  defeat in her tone as she avoids his gaze.     “  you’ll either get hurt or be let down if you try to put me first.   it’s not worth it.  ”   i’m not worth it.