five, ungodly, unspoken, unheard

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five"how ungodly"

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five
"how ungodly"

A blip greets Lusine when she wakes.  Though no terrors had come to her that night, she still found that familiar unease bobbing in the pit of her stomach. A mighty ship battered by the writhing seas, never resting easy, never plain sailing.

Not wanting to slip into sleep again, she slides out of bed, grabs her bag and enters the bathroom to freshen up. The dress she'd bundled into her bag looks worn as she pulls it out and holds it up. Something about the purple was duller. Tired. It bleeds into her blurring vision as she curls her hands into its fabric, purple swirling into the bathroom tiles, violet ichor staining her palms as she tears the dress in half and lets the shreds fall around her bare feet.

For a moment, she stares down at the mess she's made.

Then she hides it away in her bag, never wanting to have to explain herself for the impulse that had rocketed through her in that moment.

Lusine pulls on a button up shirt and tailored trousers and exits, unable to bring herself to put more effort into her appearance.

When Steve offers her food, she politely declines and opts for a mug of tea instead. A little while later, they leave for their day of training and the rocking ship only gets worse. Now, crew members were panicking, some tumbling from the deck into the famished waves never to be seen again. Asleep with the fish, they would lie upon the sands for all of time.

"Steve?"

Just the way she says his name snags his concern. In so few words, she is reduced from the mighty to the small. Or that's how she imagines herself as she reaches out for help, the movement tipping the crown from her head, shattering it on the marble into millions of glittering pieces, tears dotting the white and gold.

How ungodly.

Even the way he turns to pay attention to her renders her with inconsiderate weakness.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, though he knows that expression well and knows that everything is definitely not okay.

"I don't know if I should –I don't know if I can do this," She admits, coming to a halt on the stairs leading down into the bustling city streets. "I think it's a bad idea. No, I know it's a bad idea. With all due respect, Steve, I don't think Director Fury knows how dangerous this is for them and for me."

"You're in control," Steve tells her, moving back up a step to provide a comfort for the distressed woman. "You're not going to hurt anyone."

"But what if I do?" She questions quietly, her face the picture of a woman painted with blood. "I don't think –I don't know if I'll come back if I lose control again. I'm a threat to everything you stand for and more." The blood seeps and rots as she speaks her mind, leaving a sour taste in the recipient's mouth.

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