She doesn’t know what she could say: that she should be the one to walk away this time, that she fucking hates today, that she hates him, that it hurts – there are a lot of options. Lilah dislikes them all. The wound in her side is spreading, reaching down, splitting her apart, and something else, something deeper, aches as well. She doesn’t know which of these wounds burns brighter, or even when one ends and the other begins. She knows she feels steeped in it, soaked in it, drenched. A thin film of rage coats her nonetheless – anger at him for walking away, at her for caring about him walking away, at the blood pouring out of her and staining a well-ruined suit. She wants to throw something. She wants to scream, actually, but the echoing sound would announce her presence. Instead, she continues to hobble into the dark, teeth clenched.
-- I just love this so much. It's freaking HER. AND THEM!
She feels, for the first time, truly naked, and tries to turn away. -- Whenever I think of Lilah, I think of strong, and how the worst thing for her was appearing weak.
All the same, Wesley wouldn’t let her just wander out into the cold. She’ll have to run off one night when he’s not looking. She’ll have to walk away. -- GUHKLJKDJLG.
Lilah jolts awake, snaps back to the reality, to the hole in her side and inside her and the drama downstairs and the demon in the basement, to the ex-lover standing in front of her and leaning against the sink.
-- I don't know what it says about me that I practically quoted the entire fic. I think it shows that when I'm into something and I really love it. I am so excited and completely swept away.
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timeasmymeasure
softly_me fic recc
Date: 2010-12-09 01:18 pm (UTC)Secondly, this is now canon to me.
Thirdly, here are my fave lines:
She doesn’t know what she could say: that she should be the one to walk away this time, that she fucking hates today, that she hates him, that it hurts – there are a lot of options. Lilah dislikes them all. The wound in her side is spreading, reaching down, splitting her apart, and something else, something deeper, aches as well. She doesn’t know which of these wounds burns brighter, or even when one ends and the other begins. She knows she feels steeped in it, soaked in it, drenched. A thin film of rage coats her nonetheless – anger at him for walking away, at her for caring about him walking away, at the blood pouring out of her and staining a well-ruined suit. She wants to throw something. She wants to scream, actually, but the echoing sound would announce her presence. Instead, she continues to hobble into the dark, teeth clenched.
-- I just love this so much. It's freaking HER. AND THEM!
She feels, for the first time, truly naked, and tries to turn away.
-- Whenever I think of Lilah, I think of strong, and how the worst thing for her was appearing weak.
All the same, Wesley wouldn’t let her just wander out into the cold. She’ll have to run off one night when he’s not looking. She’ll have to walk away.
-- GUHKLJKDJLG.
Lilah jolts awake, snaps back to the reality, to the hole in her side and inside her and the drama downstairs and the demon in the basement, to the ex-lover standing in front of her and leaning against the sink.
-- I don't know what it says about me that I practically quoted the entire fic. I think it shows that when I'm into something and I really love it. I am so excited and completely swept away.