Zhavi hated silence. She couldn't stand it. Always had to fill it up with something -- humor, mockery, sarcasm. . .rage. Didn't matter, so long as something was making noise, even if it was her laying down a thick patter. The room was silent. Silent but for their breaths, for the ever-so-slight crisp of his burning cigarette. She suspected he wanted to wait her out, to fry her until she couldn't help but squirm. He wanted to flay her open and watch her to see what happened.
She hated it. She knew he knew she hated it. So she stayed silent for a long while. She held it in, felt it curdle in her gut, her head, until it came up her throat and into her mouth. It tasted like bile. Every time she swallowed without speaking, it was like blood down her throat: thick, slimy, salty. Then there was the sweat. It dribbled out from her armpits, beaded on her forehead, prickled all over her skin.
She hated him so godsdamned much, Nald'thal shred his side of the scales.
Even when she knew she was losing, she held out. Even when she knew she was going to open up her blimming tongue and gabble, she held it. Every second won was a victory. Every. Last. One.
"How long ye been tailin' me?" Slow as molasses dribbled over sugarcakes, those words. Sour as lemons. She bit her lip and hung her head even lower.
She hated herself.
She hated it. She knew he knew she hated it. So she stayed silent for a long while. She held it in, felt it curdle in her gut, her head, until it came up her throat and into her mouth. It tasted like bile. Every time she swallowed without speaking, it was like blood down her throat: thick, slimy, salty. Then there was the sweat. It dribbled out from her armpits, beaded on her forehead, prickled all over her skin.
She hated him so godsdamned much, Nald'thal shred his side of the scales.
Even when she knew she was losing, she held out. Even when she knew she was going to open up her blimming tongue and gabble, she held it. Every second won was a victory. Every. Last. One.
"How long ye been tailin' me?" Slow as molasses dribbled over sugarcakes, those words. Sour as lemons. She bit her lip and hung her head even lower.
She hated herself.
