He was a damned fool, an idiot, a drunken, moronic, stupid - and how dare he? How dare someone as evidently thick in the head not listen to her when she was giving him what he wanted. That was the point. He was looking to get himself killed, and it wouldn't be from a walker: it would be her. She would get fed up one day and she would put one of his own bolts through his eye if he insists on being like this with her. She didn't need him treating her like this. Like her company was so necessary, or like she was half so human as him, more than any of them put together. Everyone else was content to just touch her expecting marble, and she pretended she didn't see the disappointment when they found her a person.
She'd never understand why he treated her differently. After all, he'd seen her heal, he knew what she was capable of coming back from.
Dixon must mean stubborn as an ass, and no one had told her, laughing at the immortal queen that didn't know what a iphone was or whatever it was this time. Give her time, she'd work it out.
He's an idiot, an idiot and she's leaving him in the woods on the way back. She doesn't need to stay with him, she can make a point once and for all that she didn't need any of them, and maybe, he'd leave her be.
( That she craves, that she wonders at - she shoves deep, below the virulent curses of him and his name and his father before him and any children that she'd die for, that she promises to see to, after him. Because it shakes her - when he just goes running off, the way he fights beside her. She expects, even now, for them to fall back to just let her do it. What did they care if an immortal got shredded limb from limb? They could grow them back, after all.
It was how it worked for centuries. Why didn't he just fall in line like everyone else? )
None of which, things she's willing to accept and the calling him stupid at the back of his head, come out of her mouth. Rather, she rushes into that room with a comfort and an ease as she tackles the first walker, and lets it take a bite. If it's too busy tearing into her flesh, they don't see her blade come down for their head. The next one goes down with a kick to the head, the one after that has its arm torn off and a piece of glass shoved through its skull. It goes and goes and goes in a violence of its own art, its own brutality. That takes chunks out of her and she kills off the stab of pain that she finds so necessary.
( Because she never worries that he might shoot her in all this, she trusts him with her life as it might be, and that's what she'd never say, that she needs that kind of comfort. that she might need anything at all, she has stopped even considering. )
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She'd never understand why he treated her differently. After all, he'd seen her heal, he knew what she was capable of coming back from.
Dixon must mean stubborn as an ass, and no one had told her, laughing at the immortal queen that didn't know what a iphone was or whatever it was this time. Give her time, she'd work it out.
He's an idiot, an idiot and she's leaving him in the woods on the way back. She doesn't need to stay with him, she can make a point once and for all that she didn't need any of them, and maybe, he'd leave her be.
( That she craves, that she wonders at - she shoves deep, below the virulent curses of him and his name and his father before him and any children that she'd die for, that she promises to see to, after him. Because it shakes her - when he just goes running off, the way he fights beside her. She expects, even now, for them to fall back to just let her do it. What did they care if an immortal got shredded limb from limb? They could grow them back, after all.
It was how it worked for centuries. Why didn't he just fall in line like everyone else? )
None of which, things she's willing to accept and the calling him stupid at the back of his head, come out of her mouth. Rather, she rushes into that room with a comfort and an ease as she tackles the first walker, and lets it take a bite. If it's too busy tearing into her flesh, they don't see her blade come down for their head. The next one goes down with a kick to the head, the one after that has its arm torn off and a piece of glass shoved through its skull. It goes and goes and goes in a violence of its own art, its own brutality. That takes chunks out of her and she kills off the stab of pain that she finds so necessary.
( Because she never worries that he might shoot her in all this, she trusts him with her life as it might be, and that's what she'd never say, that she needs that kind of comfort. that she might need anything at all, she has stopped even considering. )