[ over the roar in his ears, he doesn't hear the door slam. he doesn't hear his name. the room tilts sharply when he presses his palm to the floor and attempts to rise, a frustrated groan in his throat. he's human, he knows it, but perhaps it's been too long or perhaps this is just part of the darkling's design. a shudder runs through him, his skin unnaturally chilled, and he automatically curls into his coat, clutching it around his shoulders and trying to steady his ragged breathing.
slowly, he opens his eyes again, the room blurry. there's something warm in here, something he feels a powerful compulsion to get away from. no, not him — the monster. the shadows rolling beneath his skin shrink back at the source of the sudden glow, and anything that makes the monster retreat is something nikolai wants to hold fast to. he lifts his eyes, his blond hair dirty and unkempt, curling against his forehead. the ringing in his ears slowly fades, the room righting itself, and his eyes finally sharpen enough that he can see a person standing by the door, light seeping from her fingertips.
the sun isn't in the right place in the sky to offer this kind of brightness. nikolai blinks away the stinging in his eyes, sudden realization flooding back to him. ]
Alina?
[ his voice is scraped raw, pitiful and exhausted even to his own ears. he wants to stand. he wants to cross the room and bury his face into her shoulder, but he doesn't yet have the strength. he wants her light.
saints, he's a man again. he draws in a breath, lifting one scarred hand to run carefully over his face. it feels like him. he can think again. he runs his tongue over his teeth, pressing hard, but they don't draw blood. they're smooth and flat again, not sharp. a relieved sound tumbles out of him, something between a laugh and a cry. ]
Saints. [ no fangs. no talons. his mind is back. saints. he sags with relief, leaning against the cracked trunk for support. ] I won't hurt you, Alina. I promise I won't hurt you.
shh it's beautiful and perfect
slowly, he opens his eyes again, the room blurry. there's something warm in here, something he feels a powerful compulsion to get away from. no, not him — the monster. the shadows rolling beneath his skin shrink back at the source of the sudden glow, and anything that makes the monster retreat is something nikolai wants to hold fast to. he lifts his eyes, his blond hair dirty and unkempt, curling against his forehead. the ringing in his ears slowly fades, the room righting itself, and his eyes finally sharpen enough that he can see a person standing by the door, light seeping from her fingertips.
the sun isn't in the right place in the sky to offer this kind of brightness. nikolai blinks away the stinging in his eyes, sudden realization flooding back to him. ]
Alina?
[ his voice is scraped raw, pitiful and exhausted even to his own ears. he wants to stand. he wants to cross the room and bury his face into her shoulder, but he doesn't yet have the strength. he wants her light.
saints, he's a man again. he draws in a breath, lifting one scarred hand to run carefully over his face. it feels like him. he can think again. he runs his tongue over his teeth, pressing hard, but they don't draw blood. they're smooth and flat again, not sharp. a relieved sound tumbles out of him, something between a laugh and a cry. ]
Saints. [ no fangs. no talons. his mind is back. saints. he sags with relief, leaning against the cracked trunk for support. ] I won't hurt you, Alina. I promise I won't hurt you.