[ It's madness everywhere; people fighting, grappling, screaming at each other. She can feel it snagging in her own chest like a broken claw, a flush heating her face like drink.
But she'd promised Kate, and March, and Little, and Bigby, that she'd stop being so reckless, and the sheer novelty of having people give a shit about her is bright and present enough to keep her from falling into fury the way so many others have. That, and she's been busy, traveling back and forth between Milton and Lakeside, trying to keep an eye on her people as much as she can when they're this scattered. It's a fool's errand, but she tries it anyway.
And hey— look at that, it's two for one; a thing she thinks first when she sees Holland and Mal. It's hard to tell at first what's going on: they could be fighting, they could be making out (nice, if true, for both of them; she sees the appeal), but then she sees a glint of metal and Holland's finger curling around the trigger and she launches herself at them like a rocket. ]
March, stop!
[ She doesn't stop. There's not time. Instead, she flings herself bodily at Mal, her chest catching him just above the elbow of the arm he's not using to pin March as she tackles him to the side. There's a sharp report and she hears something whizzing through the air like an angry insect, feels a tug on the side of her winter coat as she and Mal go tumbling towards the ground at March's side. ]
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But she'd promised Kate, and March, and Little, and Bigby, that she'd stop being so reckless, and the sheer novelty of having people give a shit about her is bright and present enough to keep her from falling into fury the way so many others have. That, and she's been busy, traveling back and forth between Milton and Lakeside, trying to keep an eye on her people as much as she can when they're this scattered. It's a fool's errand, but she tries it anyway.
And hey— look at that, it's two for one; a thing she thinks first when she sees Holland and Mal. It's hard to tell at first what's going on: they could be fighting, they could be making out (nice, if true, for both of them; she sees the appeal), but then she sees a glint of metal and Holland's finger curling around the trigger and she launches herself at them like a rocket. ]
March, stop!
[ She doesn't stop. There's not time. Instead, she flings herself bodily at Mal, her chest catching him just above the elbow of the arm he's not using to pin March as she tackles him to the side. There's a sharp report and she hears something whizzing through the air like an angry insect, feels a tug on the side of her winter coat as she and Mal go tumbling towards the ground at March's side. ]