[ it feels wrong. worse than wrong, it feels like on some level, ianthe wanted this. she'd already told alina how it felt like alina was disgusted by her, rejected all the ways she wanted her. on some level, the grotesque nature of alina's amplifier must be a reassurance. that, she thought, must be what put ianthe at some kind of peace.
it's cruel to think that. it's cruel to project anything like that onto ianthe, who had only helped her, who had only done precisely what she asked and for some reason loved even these awful parts of alina. she knows this. but it is still her first thought.
she blames the amplifier. blames aleksander, and the piece of him that she has taken permanently inside of herself. blames him, too, for the little surge of satisfaction she feels still at the sound of sankta alina. at the power that tingles in her fingertips.
still. when the power finally dims, when she draws it all back inside of herself, she lets out a choked noise, a sob, and covers her mouth with both her hands. it feels like a bodily reaction more than anything. a physical need for release, not just a response to all her unpleasant thoughts. ]
no subject
it's cruel to think that. it's cruel to project anything like that onto ianthe, who had only helped her, who had only done precisely what she asked and for some reason loved even these awful parts of alina. she knows this. but it is still her first thought.
she blames the amplifier. blames aleksander, and the piece of him that she has taken permanently inside of herself. blames him, too, for the little surge of satisfaction she feels still at the sound of sankta alina. at the power that tingles in her fingertips.
still. when the power finally dims, when she draws it all back inside of herself, she lets out a choked noise, a sob, and covers her mouth with both her hands. it feels like a bodily reaction more than anything. a physical need for release, not just a response to all her unpleasant thoughts. ]