Kate's fumbling, dazed words make it all real. If there were any lingering disconnect between himself and the impossible reality before him, it's made solid and whole by the girl's reply. 'there's something wrong with him, he did something, he wouldn't let go'
Edward's stomach drops with a nauseating sinking that almost sends him reeling sideways. He sways where he's half-sitting up, feels his shoulder against the pew nearest him, the smell of his own blood swirling through his senses. Then comes Wynonna — 'oh, you idiot' — and he can't see Kate but he can see the older woman as she looks around at him for that brief moment inbetween helping Kate, anger steeling her eyes into shades of ice as she helps draw the girl up into his line of vision. Edward flinches from the sharp daggers in Wynonna's gaze; he draws in a ragged sound that's supposed to be a breath but sounds more like a gasp, having to force air into his lungs.
'what did you do?'
Kate's up and his eyes finally find her, looking back at him like he's an animal she's not sure is safe or not to approach, hurt and fearful and barely able to stand upright. What did you do?
He stares up at her, eyes wide and mouth open. His rambling thoughts have abruptly frozen in him, everything going still and silent. He doesn't know how to answer what Kate asks — as he looks at her, he can see that something's— wrong, he's made her wrong, but how?
What did he... feed on? What is it that he feels inside of him now, that he craves more of— no, not him, this isn't him. There's some darkness, some demon, he would never want to harm her—
Her... spirit? Her vitality? Life, Wynonna said, my life.
He's stricken, numb. It's Wynonna's question that pulls a response from him again, and his eyes tear from Kate's tear-stained face and snap down to the hand that rests at the gun. He might do something again. Might try to hurt someone again. Wynonna is protecting Kate from him, and the horror of that realisation feels like a punch.
"I— I thought it was under my control, I didn't—" He's breathless, as though the wind's been knocked out of him. He's in a great deal of pain. He's still hungry. "I would never...—" And yet he had. With one simple touch, one simple movement.
His eyes swim; he finds Kate again. Looking at her is a different kind of pain; his heart wrenches itself into beats, his eyes plead. "Kate. I—"
There's apology there in him, but he can't even voice that much. How could he? How could he ask to be forgiven? Of course he couldn't. Wynonna's question demands an answer once more, and he shrinks back as though from her, one arm wrapping around himself, slumping back.
"I don't know. I don't— understand. Mr. Drake...did something to me, too. It hurt—" Different from the other hurts, the physical tearing, the clamp of jaws and weapons. Edward winces sharply against his own shallow breathing, too-aware now of his own injury.
Can... hear him in her head. Wynonna can hear him? The way people can hear Kate. And Tim's a wolf now, the way Edward can be. He felt strong and vital so briefly, and then Tim took something from him, weakened him again.
"I think we— we took something. We fed." That word makes him flinch again with another shuddering sound. He fed on Kate. And Tim... fed on him...? Edward's eyes flutter, voice hoarse. He feels lost, able to latch only onto the concept of fixing whatever he'd done to Kate.
"I don't know what to do. What... do I do...? I have to help her..." He reaches his other arm up towards the girl, weak and fumbling, as though he could grasp hold of what's wrong, make it right.
no subject
Edward's stomach drops with a nauseating sinking that almost sends him reeling sideways. He sways where he's half-sitting up, feels his shoulder against the pew nearest him, the smell of his own blood swirling through his senses. Then comes Wynonna — 'oh, you idiot' — and he can't see Kate but he can see the older woman as she looks around at him for that brief moment inbetween helping Kate, anger steeling her eyes into shades of ice as she helps draw the girl up into his line of vision. Edward flinches from the sharp daggers in Wynonna's gaze; he draws in a ragged sound that's supposed to be a breath but sounds more like a gasp, having to force air into his lungs.
'what did you do?'
Kate's up and his eyes finally find her, looking back at him like he's an animal she's not sure is safe or not to approach, hurt and fearful and barely able to stand upright. What did you do?
He stares up at her, eyes wide and mouth open. His rambling thoughts have abruptly frozen in him, everything going still and silent. He doesn't know how to answer what Kate asks — as he looks at her, he can see that something's— wrong, he's made her wrong, but how?
What did he... feed on? What is it that he feels inside of him now, that he craves more of— no, not him, this isn't him. There's some darkness, some demon, he would never want to harm her—
Her... spirit? Her vitality? Life, Wynonna said, my life.
He's stricken, numb. It's Wynonna's question that pulls a response from him again, and his eyes tear from Kate's tear-stained face and snap down to the hand that rests at the gun. He might do something again. Might try to hurt someone again. Wynonna is protecting Kate from him, and the horror of that realisation feels like a punch.
"I— I thought it was under my control, I didn't—" He's breathless, as though the wind's been knocked out of him. He's in a great deal of pain. He's still hungry. "I would never...—" And yet he had. With one simple touch, one simple movement.
His eyes swim; he finds Kate again. Looking at her is a different kind of pain; his heart wrenches itself into beats, his eyes plead. "Kate. I—"
There's apology there in him, but he can't even voice that much. How could he? How could he ask to be forgiven? Of course he couldn't. Wynonna's question demands an answer once more, and he shrinks back as though from her, one arm wrapping around himself, slumping back.
"I don't know. I don't— understand. Mr. Drake...did something to me, too. It hurt—" Different from the other hurts, the physical tearing, the clamp of jaws and weapons. Edward winces sharply against his own shallow breathing, too-aware now of his own injury.
Can... hear him in her head. Wynonna can hear him? The way people can hear Kate. And Tim's a wolf now, the way Edward can be. He felt strong and vital so briefly, and then Tim took something from him, weakened him again.
"I think we— we took something. We fed." That word makes him flinch again with another shuddering sound. He fed on Kate. And Tim... fed on him...? Edward's eyes flutter, voice hoarse. He feels lost, able to latch only onto the concept of fixing whatever he'd done to Kate.
"I don't know what to do. What... do I do...? I have to help her..." He reaches his other arm up towards the girl, weak and fumbling, as though he could grasp hold of what's wrong, make it right.