"It was a lot. Is a lot. I feel like I've cheaped out on you, y'know, trying to pass 'I realized how much of the world as we know it is only surface stuff,' off as event the start of a summary, cause like on one level? That's obvious to everybody, at least everybody who doesn't have x-ray vision or an offshoot, so whoa, I know, shocker. And at the same time, this is exactly the sort of thing where talking about magic is a struggle that makes me feel stupid because none of the words I have work the way I need them to if I'm going to get what it's like across. Gawd." And then, for good measure. "Shit. Fuck. And damn."
It was a lot to say, all out in a rush, but it (was Sam again trusting her mouth to solve a situation by just letting whatever wanted to come out of it come out of it unexamined, unimpeded) worked, pushing through the heavy moment like a woodpecker working through the bark and phloem. That was it; the moment was over, ended, eroded, and Sam set it aside to stand and poke softly at the beginning of Saxsice's rather temporary tattoo. "Anyway,"
"Nah, you haven't," Saxsice says gently, wiggling her toes at the poke. "I appreciate you tellin' me, y'know? I bet it's not easy. I can't even talk about who and what I am, gotta talk around it like it ain't there. Facing shit head-on isn't really my style."
Settling down the needle, Saxsice hugs her knee to her chest, watching the ink for a moment. Before their eyes, it bleeds, scabs over, then smooths out, all within a handful of moments. Then, just as suddenly, the ink starts to weep out of the skin, slow at first, then spraying out like a tube of toothpaste that's been squeezed. Saxsice watches, bemused, then wipes away the last drips of ink, showing her skin as unmarked as it had been before the needle. "There y'go. My party trick."
"Admitting to it is easy, because you're in the mix yourself. We're on pretty level footing, you and me. Explaining it is a bitch. But... thank you; it's good of you to say that." Under other circumstances, Sam would've inflicted a companionable shoulder-check; she just wasn't in a good position relative to Saxsice to do that, though, and would've waited for her to set the needle down regardless. She kept quiet to join the other woman in watching, the anticipation unmistakeable... and the 'party trick' worth the wait, odd enough to make her laugh aloud. "That's cool! But also definitely something I could intervene in."
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It was a lot to say, all out in a rush, but it (was Sam again trusting her mouth to solve a situation by just letting whatever wanted to come out of it come out of it unexamined, unimpeded) worked, pushing through the heavy moment like a woodpecker working through the bark and phloem. That was it; the moment was over, ended, eroded, and Sam set it aside to stand and poke softly at the beginning of Saxsice's rather temporary tattoo. "Anyway,"
no subject
Settling down the needle, Saxsice hugs her knee to her chest, watching the ink for a moment. Before their eyes, it bleeds, scabs over, then smooths out, all within a handful of moments. Then, just as suddenly, the ink starts to weep out of the skin, slow at first, then spraying out like a tube of toothpaste that's been squeezed. Saxsice watches, bemused, then wipes away the last drips of ink, showing her skin as unmarked as it had been before the needle. "There y'go. My party trick."
no subject