[ He's not her preferred choice of drinking partner, and the honest truth (beneath all of the ways he's usually able to pretend otherwise) is that she isn't, either. Someone who doesn't want his company at any given point in time, who feels like an itch he can never quite scratch, or maybe more like a wound that won't quite heal. Right now, he's not able to pretend anymore, to find joy (or something shaped like it, but maybe not quite joy, maybe more thrill) in the pursuit of trying to make someone approve of him. He's too tired, andβ she is too, he knows, from her own frustrated, restless thoughts. Both of them left because they needed quiet, solitude. Both of them would prefer to be alone.
But they also both need something to drown out the other stuff, soβ
So neither of them really wants to head off in the same direction as the other, but it's not about want. They can both utilise each other, and maybe that in itself is some weird breath of relief. Because Konstantin finds himself doing that, giving a soft exhale of relief as Wynonna agrees in just about the least-thrilled way possible, and he shoves his hands deep into his coat pockets as he quickly falls into step with her.
(Guilt pools into his stomach as he realises the further he steps away from the sources of those strings, all of them except the one currently tethering him to her, the more relief he feels. Like the longer those golden and red threads stretches, the more distance he has, the more he can breathe.) ]
Has anyone found a way to cut these things off yet?
[ He asks her, lifting a brow over at her as they walk, unable to add his usual light-hearted layering; the words just come out dark and sardonic as he slips one hand briefly from his pocket to lift in gesture. He can't see all of hers, but he can guess she has multiple, like him. One name seems most prominent, one of the people she'd listed before. Edward.]
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But they also both need something to drown out the other stuff, soβ
So neither of them really wants to head off in the same direction as the other, but it's not about want. They can both utilise each other, and maybe that in itself is some weird breath of relief. Because Konstantin finds himself doing that, giving a soft exhale of relief as Wynonna agrees in just about the least-thrilled way possible, and he shoves his hands deep into his coat pockets as he quickly falls into step with her.
(Guilt pools into his stomach as he realises the further he steps away from the sources of those strings, all of them except the one currently tethering him to her, the more relief he feels. Like the longer those golden and red threads stretches, the more distance he has, the more he can breathe.) ]
Has anyone found a way to cut these things off yet?
[ He asks her, lifting a brow over at her as they walk, unable to add his usual light-hearted layering; the words just come out dark and sardonic as he slips one hand briefly from his pocket to lift in gesture. He can't see all of hers, but he can guess she has multiple, like him. One name seems most prominent, one of the people she'd listed before. Edward. ]