Post by Micha Volkov on Aug 4, 2012 19:35:10 GMT -5
He didn't intend to tell anyone. She was not surprised, but she did feel relieved. The thought of Gabriel telling others that he had bested her, Micha Volkov, was almost too much to bear. What would they think -- she couldn't handle herself because she was a little girl? It was irritating to even think about.
Was 'crazy' the right word to describe him? Judging by the way he kept twitching away to stare at some dark forsaken corner, she wanted to say yes. Add on top of that the way he'd attacked her, only to stop a moment later... Hmm.
She would not disagree with the fact that Gabriel Adams had problems.
What problems exactly, though? Was he insane in the way movies had always portrayed it, e.g. a gibbering, homicidal maniac who belonged in an insane asylum? She had to say, she had absolutely no experience in the matter.
Micha stared at him as he spoke, wary and speculative. He said, she needed to leave. He said, he was glad she was alive. She was supposed to believe both, apparently. What was he, cra- Oh, right. She'd already decided that.
Methodically, the Slytherin combed slender fingers through her hair, trying to sort out the tangles. She kept her dark eyes on him. Her other hand still held the wand out, at least until she had deemed her appearance once again acceptable. Gabriel offered her pain killers. She gave him a dubious look, and tilted the wand back her way.
"Episkey."
It was no big thing to heal the wound on her cheek. She was a witch. This was just a practical application of skills she had learned from school. She shook her head, once, that expression of annoyance growing. Larkin or Whites might have understood -- one did not tell Micha Volkov what to do. Or even suggest it.
She closed the distance between herself and Gabriel defiantly. She grabbed his arm to hold him there, to keep him from picking at himself. Where had she caught him with the knife? It didn't look like the wound had bled much, but still.
"Episkey." She inhaled to keep her calm, catching his scent in the process. Very boyish. Ugh. "Episkey," she repeated for the third time. The incantation felt stale coming from her lips, but she said it nonetheless. She had sort of stabbed him, after all. Didn't mean he didn't deserve it, but she couldn't just leave it like that.
One shouldn't misunderstand the action as one because she felt guilty over her attack. It was more like... If someone saw his bloody clothing, would they ask about it? Would they investigate?
She glanced up, attempting to meet his eyes. "Gabriel," she said. Quietly. Firmly. An effort to capture his attention, maybe? "It's okay. I'm here." What was he seeing, hmm? She didn't feel like she could leave until he was calm and in control. Who knew what he might do -- speaking of, if he went for her wand again, she wouldn't fail to hex the shit out of him. Really, this time.
Was 'crazy' the right word to describe him? Judging by the way he kept twitching away to stare at some dark forsaken corner, she wanted to say yes. Add on top of that the way he'd attacked her, only to stop a moment later... Hmm.
She would not disagree with the fact that Gabriel Adams had problems.
What problems exactly, though? Was he insane in the way movies had always portrayed it, e.g. a gibbering, homicidal maniac who belonged in an insane asylum? She had to say, she had absolutely no experience in the matter.
Micha stared at him as he spoke, wary and speculative. He said, she needed to leave. He said, he was glad she was alive. She was supposed to believe both, apparently. What was he, cra- Oh, right. She'd already decided that.
Methodically, the Slytherin combed slender fingers through her hair, trying to sort out the tangles. She kept her dark eyes on him. Her other hand still held the wand out, at least until she had deemed her appearance once again acceptable. Gabriel offered her pain killers. She gave him a dubious look, and tilted the wand back her way.
"Episkey."
It was no big thing to heal the wound on her cheek. She was a witch. This was just a practical application of skills she had learned from school. She shook her head, once, that expression of annoyance growing. Larkin or Whites might have understood -- one did not tell Micha Volkov what to do. Or even suggest it.
She closed the distance between herself and Gabriel defiantly. She grabbed his arm to hold him there, to keep him from picking at himself. Where had she caught him with the knife? It didn't look like the wound had bled much, but still.
"Episkey." She inhaled to keep her calm, catching his scent in the process. Very boyish. Ugh. "Episkey," she repeated for the third time. The incantation felt stale coming from her lips, but she said it nonetheless. She had sort of stabbed him, after all. Didn't mean he didn't deserve it, but she couldn't just leave it like that.
One shouldn't misunderstand the action as one because she felt guilty over her attack. It was more like... If someone saw his bloody clothing, would they ask about it? Would they investigate?
She glanced up, attempting to meet his eyes. "Gabriel," she said. Quietly. Firmly. An effort to capture his attention, maybe? "It's okay. I'm here." What was he seeing, hmm? She didn't feel like she could leave until he was calm and in control. Who knew what he might do -- speaking of, if he went for her wand again, she wouldn't fail to hex the shit out of him. Really, this time.