eleven. spam & video. i'm not just made of parts.

[indispensible]

[You will notice a few things where Vin walks. Not a healing, not exactly, but the sense of refreshment. Regrowth. Skinned needs are unskinned. Cells grow. Plants experience the most noticeable change, growing more in minutes than they have in years. (She shies away from the garden for this reason - it would become a thicket quickly, easily.)]

[Hair grow where she passes, and nails. She can feel a tingling on her own scalp and under her nail bed, and is wild-eyed with anger - under which is fear. She hasn't been this out of control in ages, but then, she hasn't sensed the dead before, either.]

[Her hair is down past her waist when she gives in and broadcasts, peering through the camera as though her gaze can make people reveal their secrets. Behind her, a green tendril uncurls and rests on her shoulder.]

Give me Dillon Cole. Now.


( ooc; vin is a star shard from dillon's canon, um, star shards! tl;dr she is part of dillon's soul and her power is growing shit out of control. open to spam or video, more info here. )

Comments

[indispensible]

[The separation makes the joining together again sweeter. Getting to see his face makes it sweeter, too, the joy on his face that's so often drawn and lined with fear, worry, concern, the weight of the world. He still has so much to answer for, but right now, for the first time in forever, being stuck in her own skin doesn't feel too small for Vin. It feels just right.]

[She traces his cheekbones with her fingers and doesn't tell him she loves him, because wouldn't it be strange to say something out loud that's always been the case? Even back when she hated him she loved him, because they're part of each other, of a whole. Soul mates, fitting snugly into the universe right next to each other, defying reality in what is, for once, perfect synch.]

[orderfromchaos]

[Breathing means thinking, and he kind of wants to not, at all, because this isn't - he can't say it's not real, not even in his head, it's one of the most real things that's ever happened to him. But it's not his real or her real, it's so perfect and it's not true, and his throat locks up and he kind of wants to cry.

He won't. He won't. He just wants to, a little.

He tilts his head back, eyes closed, face leaning easy into her fingertips as he swallows, lets himself be overwhelmed, lets himself own all of it. ]

[indispensible]

[She leans her head against his chest, smiling at nothing where he can't see her.]

Not half bad.

[Anybody's guess what she's referring to.]

[orderfromchaos]

[He doesn't need to see her. The shape of her mouth is on the air, in the acoustics of her breath on his shirt, echoed in the ease of her back muscles. She's part of the world, as much as she's part of him. He strokes her hair, and he smiles too.]

Guess we're not.

[Them, their work, the shock of experience between them. Any of it. All of it. Right now, they're together.]