singlelogbridge | Inbox: Ximilia

[He doesn't cry, and he holds her close for a while longer before finally drawing back. Perhaps if they weren't underwater, his eyes might be a little too bright, but like this there's no way to tell.]

I understand. The urge to run instead of talk. [He doesn't run like that. He dodges and weaves with humor and anger, making everything into a joke, and resorting to angry barbs when laughter isn't enough. He doesn't physically run, but he understands.]

When you need space, I'll give you space. Just tell me and I'll get out of your hair. You don't have to disappear.

〈 c'mon—you're our sister. what did you think you were gonna do? 〉

You should meet Glory. You can commiserate, 〈 gwen jokes weakly.

she put her friends through some shit and they welcomed her back immediately. that's about where the parallels end, however. she kept her distance from the mary janes so they would be safe. she did not run from wei wuxian to protect him.

her current life choices alone say plenty.

she hunches her shoulders. outside the mask—both literal and symbolic—gwen likes to make herself small. 〉

I'd like to say I won't do it again, but— 〈 she drags out the sound ruefully— 〉 kinda doing it right now.

[His brow furrows and he turns around as if looking back the way they came, though it's really hard to say if he has the direction right. She doesn't mean she's running from him anymore, he's pretty sure, so then who?]

Who else? [His voice is gentle when he asks, and he slips his hand into hers, squeezing it in support.]

〈 who else, he makes sure to specify, and she does not know whether to laugh or punch him. she settles for not putting distance between them. her eyes are on their hands when she answers. 〉

Dr. McCoy is dying. 〈 she hunches further into herself. 〉 Has been for a while.

[Setting aside the immediate horror at having punched the man just a few days ago aside—he tightens his grip on Gwen's hand, tangling their fingers together and tugging her into a side hug.]

I'm sorry. I had no idea. [He closes his eyes and shakes his head. He knows how close Dr. McCoy and Gwen are.] Is he ill?

Yeah. I knew he was sick before. The extent was new information.

〈 he is doing better—for a given definition of the word. the symptoms have eased with the cooler temperatures in which they are submerged. he no longer looks like he got socked in the face from fever, at least. "better" does not mean "recovered", though. much less "cured".

and here she is, a quarter of the ocean away. that's nursing crossed off the possible careers list. 〉

[He sighs silently and tugs her into a proper hug.]

When we get back, you don't have to see him if you don't want to, or if you want me to come with you, I will. [If he's dying, he doesn't have to tell Gwen she might regret the time away from him later. If she didn't already know that, she wouldn't be feeling the way she so obviously is. It would be a cruel thing to say.]

And if there's anything I can do, you just have to say the word and I'll do it. Whatever you need.

You think I haven't been texting him this entire time?

〈 she needed to get away, do something, but she has kept the connection wide open. sends him photos and video. texts him stupid jokes as they occur to her. she has dug her nails in and refuses to let go. tragedy is that she can still feel time slipping from her like so much sand. like water.

pulling away, she fiddles with her bag. 〉

He's actually the one who reminded me "avoidance" is the thing the trauma gremlin in my brain wants me to do, so I should do not that. I don't think he expected me to swing in the opposite direction and drag you on a "just us" week-long trip…

〈 gwen's teeth worry her inner lip. she does not look at wei wuxian. 〉

I didn't want to do this on my own.

[Honestly? He wasn't sure if she would have kept in contact. But that answer isn't helpful so he keeps it to himself. At least she hadn't shut McCoy out the way she'd shut him out.

As for the rest, well. He doesn't want to think about it too hard. Gwen isn't the only one who avoids her problems, they just have different methods.]

This trip? Is that why you texted me?

No. Not only. Ugh.

〈 she throws her hands up helplessly. 〉 Look, we’re getting sidetracked. That little jaunt probably cost us, and I doubt it’ll be the last. We need to keep moving.

〈 running again, are we, a voice not unlike spider-ham’s opines. gwen almost tells it to shut up, before realizing she would be starting an argument with her own brain. she wants a fight and doesn't. she wants to clear the air and wants to change the subject. she is—has been—caught fast in a mire of her emotions and trying to ignore it as if that will stop her sinking. venom magnifies her confusion back at her. 〉

Edited 2022-08-21 14:26 (UTC)

Gwen. [He catches her hand before she can swim off, holding it lightly enough she can easily pull away if it's what she wants. He says nothing else for now, only giving her a searching look. After everything they just talked about, he knows what she's trying to do.

And if that's really what she wants, he won't stop her. It just seemed for a minute there like it wasn't.]

What?

〈 the word comes out sharper than intended, and she grimaces. 〉

[Sharpness he can take. His fingers curl around her palm and he holds her gaze.]

It's probably hypocritical coming from me, but. You don't have to keep running. Not from me.

Edited 2022-08-23 00:05 (UTC)

I am not running from you!

〈 if her exclamation before was sharper, this proves louder than it should have. she drops her head; her fingers close around his. the pressure is just shy of painful. black tendrils circle her neck, pull free from her collarbones.

with a strength she did not know she had, gwen forces the rising panicky, stressed, angry, everything feelings down enough to raise her head. she tries to look at him, and immediately turns her face away. it's too much. the pressure in her chest is growing. she wants to scream. break something. run away.

she settles on the truth, and it feels like shards of glass. 〉

I'm not trying to get away from you. I'm trying to get away from me.

[The pressure on his hand isn't a concern. What is a concern is the way Venom curls around her in a way he hasn't seen since Giva.

He doesn't know what to say to that. How can he when he's spent so much time doing it himself? He settles for keeping his hold on her hand and rubbing his thumb in circles along her knuckles.]

Then let me go with you. When you run away from you, you don't have to be alone.

〈 her eyes follow the movement of his thumb. 〉 Those pills I take?

〈 a prickle spreads across the back of her neck like a terrible realization dripping down her spine. the frills and flounces of her body are edged in black, and her bell has darkened. when she inhales, it feels like needles. and she continues to follow his repetitive motion because it is easier than looking at his face.

funny how much easier it was to talk about her hallucination of a cartoon superhero pig. funny. no one's laughing. 〉

They're a band-aid. Best band-aid yet. But they don't treat the cause. 〈 she gives a minute shake of her head. 〉 Things set me off. Some of them I know so I avoid them. Some of them catch me off-guard, and I'm right back in the worst day of my life.

Sometimes it's just the sensation. Feelings. Sometimes I see it. 〈 she snorts a humorless laugh. 〉 Sometimes literally.

A lot of the time it's the sounds. 〈 quiet, 〉 I remember the sounds.

〈 her eyes meet his. 〉

You know I never remember my dreams anymore? But I remember that. A bajillion light years away, I'm stuck in it.

[His thumb continues to circle her knuckles and he's silent as she speaks, listening carefully. It's more of the story that he's heard in bits and pieces. Not all of it, but a few more pieces of the puzzle. His thumb never stops moving and his eyes gone soft with care never leave her face.]

What happened? [Maybe she won't answer. Maybe she doesn't want to. Maybe he's overstepping. He'll take her lead, whatever it means. If she wants to yell at him or wants to change the subject, he won't push. But he has to ask. If it haunts her like this and she can give him this many pieces, than maybe it really would help not to keep it inside.]

A tragedy, of course.

〈 she slips her hand from his. a gentle push and she drifts from him. not far. only enough to make it deliberate. she does not want a kind touch or well-intentioned reassurances. she never put the serum in peter's hand. she did not drive him to the school. but she had her own role in this tragedy.

first act, she thinks. we encounter our characters and their world, and the initial conflict. 〉

Peter was goofy and brilliant. Followed me everywhere. Couldn't be quiet to save his life. He wanted to be like Spider-Woman. I never told him I was her. 〈 maybe if she had… another what-if to join the ocean's worth she has imagined since prom night. she might drown in them if she is not careful.

she twines a tentacle around her fingers. when she lowers her head, her bell obscures most of her face. the second act: the stakes are raised. the conflict escalates. 〉

He synthesized a serum. So he could be on Spider-Woman's level. So he could take revenge on the people who tormented him. I don't know. But the Lizard attacked the prom. And the girl who was his hero beat him. No. She humiliated him. Even after he begged her to stop. She didn't let up until the effects started to wear off. And there was Peter.

〈 act three. 〉He said he wanted to be like me. And he died.

[Some of it he knows or has inferred, that Peter was her best friend, someone she'd known almost her whole life. That she felt his death was on her shoulders. The details are new and he finds himself closing his eyes for a just a moment, the familiar pangs of guilt that wash over him tempered by the empathy he feels for her.

She'd killed him. Peter had done something to himself—he doesn't entirely understand what—and it had made him dangerous. So Gwen had stopped him without knowing who it was she fought. She'd killed him with her own hands. The weight of it takes his breath away for a moment as he opens his eyes again.]

I'm sorry. [He remembers Wen Ning's hand through Jin Zixuan's chest, not the same but not so different, and he knows it isn't enough.]

Join the club. There's a waitlist. 〈 a joke lacking in humor. an attempt at lightness that falls flat.

she can crack wise about venom, every shitty thing she witnesses, her deaths. she laughs to keep from crying. when it comes to peter, she has a scream lodged between her ribs that has never gone away.

peter wanted to hurt people. he succeeded. his aunt and uncle were destroyed by the loss of their boy. harry gave himself to hatred and vengeance. gwen split her life in half, and in so doing, lived no life.

even now, knowing, years past… little wonder she said yes to the orbs in her dream. (she fears, awake, she would have said the same.) 〉

[He swims closer to her, closing the distance between them, and refraining from reaching for her like he wants to. Instead, he floats there next to her, pain in his heart at the thought of the weight she carries in her own.]

You were acting to protect others. [He continues before she can respond.] I know it doesn't absolve you. I know.

I know that doesn't make it hurt less. [It does matter though.]

〈 she shakes her head. 〉 I don't need reassurances, Wei Wuxian. I'm not looking for absolution.

〈 she did not share to seek a solution; there isn't one. only how she chooses to live with the truth. 〉

Peter was responsible for his actions that night; I had that epiphany a couple years ago. And I was, am, responsible for mine.

〈 she was angry over something so stupid. she had wanted one night. she had wanted to enjoy her prom with her friends. she wanted to just be gwen again for one night.

instead, a long line of consequences stretch from their actions that night. for her dad. for the parkers. for harry. for her friends, and the city, too. for peter and for gwen.

she turns her face away. 〉

This has taken up too much time, 〈 she repeats. 〉 We need to stay moving.

[It was the wrong thing to say and he knows it even before she's withdrawn. There's nothing to be done for it now. Frustrated with himself and at a loss, he reaches for her hand. Before the Ximilia, no one had talked to him about their feelings like this. With Gwen, he feels privileged to be trusted, but it doesn't stop him from being absolutely worthless at knowing what to say.

He doesn't want her to hurt, but pain is part of life. Her aches and pains—like his own—deserve to be felt. What can he say then without reducing her feelings to something inconsequential, the way Newt had done to him?]

Alright. [Acquiescence, in penance more than agreement. He's not concerned with how long this trip takes them.]

Don’t!

〈 quick as a snakebite, they snatch back their hand. jagged slashes like enormous and uneven teeth cut the edge of their bell. all along their tentacles, bumps like spines sprout.

venom’s confusion is a part of her. craving contact, while abhorring the thought of touch in that moment. the sensations of that night linger. her skin crawls. too much. the stimulation is too much.

gwen inhales deeply—there’s no use crying over pinpricks, she thinks, her thumb and index finger tapping the beat, don’t fight the name if the name fits—and, by the time she gets to the chorus, she stops the change. when she speaks, however, she does so in plural. 〉

Don’t touch us.

〈 unable to escape, she pulls into herself. makes herself small.she drops her head, and her face disappears behind her massive bell. without another word, she takes to swimming—as well as she is able in a jellyfish’s shape, at least.

she keeps drumming on her fingers. 〉

[The shift from "me" to "us" isn't lost on him, and he nods after a moment and stays silent. If she doesn't want him near, he won't force anything. He's already messed this conversation up enough.

And so they continues on in silence, speaking only about the currents and the direction they're going as needed.]

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