[ The string nearly does, snap, at Kavinsky's words. He didn't mean it, she thinks, he couldn't possibly know and at the same time, how could he not? A sense of rushing water, incessant waves rolling over bare bodies and her hand holding on to another's, desperation coursing through her veins at the threat of losing someone not that into being alive. But underneath it all is just anger, cold and steady. Only those with the will to live get to survive. ]
no subject
( What about you? )