milliways_bar | (no subject)

Not today. Why?

*Meg hesitates.*

We sort of. Had an. Well.

We found out why she was having those dreams . . .

You did? Why? Can it be stopped?

I think maybe it has been now.

*Meg pushes her hair out of her face impatiently and gets herself together.*

It seems like - she was having them 'cause I was thinking about saving Sylvaine . . .

Oh -- yeah, that, I was looking into that with...

*He trails off.*

Wait, because?

*Meg nods, rather blankly.*

She was really - she pulled -

she wasn't happy.

*Andrew's face darkens with concern, and he reaches out to touch Meg's hand.*

Not happy as in...?

*Meg's hand tightens on his, but she avoids his gaze.*

She hadn't slept for days, properly.

She thought I was holding out on her deliberately, I think.

... what'd she do?

I don't think she would've really used it.

*Andrew goes pale.*

She was ... angry, then?

*Meg doesn't answer.

She draws her knees up to her chest.*

*Andrew moves before he realizes he's doing it, and wraps his arms around Meg.*

*Meg rests her head on his chest, and looks down at her knees.*

She thinks I'm mad at her now, or something. I am, a little. But -

She should be more mad at me than anything, I guess. Considering.

*His voice is very soft.*

You want to tell me what she did?

Knife.

At my leg.

Oh god.

*Andrew shudders convulsively, once.*

*Meg unwraps her arms from her knees, wraps them around him instead.*

Hey. It's okay.

I'm okay. I promise.

She maybe isn't.

That is not okay. That is not okay on an epic scale --

Like I said, I don't think -

she wouldn't've done it really.

*Andrew is not so sure. He's heard stories....*

*But no point going into them now.*

She didn't, anyway.

*Meg's voice is very quiet. Little more than a whisper.*

You know what would happen if she had, right?

*Andrew flinches at that. Hard.*

*Meg's arms tighten around him automatically.*

Please don't -

*And then she stops, unsure of what, even, she was going to ask.*

*His voice comes out almost too low to be audible, each word bitten off.*

You wouldn't be able to dance anymore.

And I'd have to kill her.