[she doesn't give a single fuck about how he tries to talk around the accusations she's thrown at him — because out of the two of them, she knows exactly who's deluded. that gets nothing out of her; she's still giving him the same stone cold expression, the same hard, piercing gaze. even if the way he hisses as he speaks sets everything in her on edge, she still changes nothing. gives nothing.
until three words linger: put her down.
put her down, like lyra erso had been some kind of a farm animal with a life-threatening injury who'd needed to be put out of her misery, and not a person. not the woman who'd held her small hand on the shores of lah'mu and explained the color of the sand, who'd taken care of her injuries and kissed her goodnight, who'd told her to trust the force.
rage, a constant for what seems as long as she can remember now, reaches a boiling point in her. she lunges forward, flattening both her palms on this bastard's coat before shoving him with all the strength she has.
no subject
until three words linger: put her down.
put her down, like lyra erso had been some kind of a farm animal with a life-threatening injury who'd needed to be put out of her misery, and not a person. not the woman who'd held her small hand on the shores of lah'mu and explained the color of the sand, who'd taken care of her injuries and kissed her goodnight, who'd told her to trust the force.
rage, a constant for what seems as long as she can remember now, reaches a boiling point in her. she lunges forward, flattening both her palms on this bastard's coat before shoving him with all the strength she has.
she snarls,]
Say one more word and I'll kill you.