Somehow, despite the kidnapping kelpie and the almost-drowning and her minor meltdown about how all this might affect her adoption status, Triss still finds the energy to panic at the shoe thing. Danae's so casual about it, like she doesn't even care that other people might get hurt, or that she could end up tied down and punished. Triss flushes and shivers in turns, battered by the sense-memory of stifling candleflames and biting cold ice water. Her pulse drones in her ears, drowning out Hannibal's rebuke, if there is one, and anything else he might say to Danae about that.
The pressure on her chest is all in her head. She knows that, she's actually talked to Hannibal about it before, how sometimes it's like she's stuck in a small space even when she's not, and sometimes she feels like there isn't enough air when there is. When that happens, she's supposed to try and count to five and take a breath, right? She's just groping for two when Hannibal says "Let's get you some dry clothes,", his voice closer and louder than before, direct enough to snag her attention. Triss' face jerks towards him, nostrils flaring and pupils rapidly dilating back to something normal.
"Yeah, yes, 'kay," she slides off the bench, shaking hands in her sleeves, and bolts for the stairs. Everyone's watching her now, even Argus, which only drives her need to run. She'd take the steps two at a time if her knee didn't hurt so bad; she ends up half-hopping just to climb the stairs normally, 'cuz her palms sting too much to grab at the bannister.
The house, her room, it's all still too new and impermanent to feel safe, especially since she'd been snatched out of it like six hours ago. Triss hangs in the doorway for a moment before darting to her dresser, digging past the top layers of carefully folded new clothes to the faded, well-worn stuff underneath. She wants her things right now. If it wouldn't be such an obvious sign of babyish weakness, she'd grab Otto off her bed and take him back downstairs with her for the grown-up talk to come.
Triss turns with an armful of clothes to find Hannibal with his feet still respectfully in the hallway. "I don't like this," she blurts before burying her mouth and chin in her favorite shirt. It's got jellyfish on it and her mom bought it for her on the last field trip before things went bad and even if her mom lit all the candles herself the shirt's still really soft. "I don't wanna."
no subject
The pressure on her chest is all in her head. She knows that, she's actually talked to Hannibal about it before, how sometimes it's like she's stuck in a small space even when she's not, and sometimes she feels like there isn't enough air when there is. When that happens, she's supposed to try and count to five and take a breath, right? She's just groping for two when Hannibal says "Let's get you some dry clothes,", his voice closer and louder than before, direct enough to snag her attention. Triss' face jerks towards him, nostrils flaring and pupils rapidly dilating back to something normal.
"Yeah, yes, 'kay," she slides off the bench, shaking hands in her sleeves, and bolts for the stairs. Everyone's watching her now, even Argus, which only drives her need to run. She'd take the steps two at a time if her knee didn't hurt so bad; she ends up half-hopping just to climb the stairs normally, 'cuz her palms sting too much to grab at the bannister.
The house, her room, it's all still too new and impermanent to feel safe, especially since she'd been snatched out of it like six hours ago. Triss hangs in the doorway for a moment before darting to her dresser, digging past the top layers of carefully folded new clothes to the faded, well-worn stuff underneath. She wants her things right now. If it wouldn't be such an obvious sign of babyish weakness, she'd grab Otto off her bed and take him back downstairs with her for the grown-up talk to come.
Triss turns with an armful of clothes to find Hannibal with his feet still respectfully in the hallway. "I don't like this," she blurts before burying her mouth and chin in her favorite shirt. It's got jellyfish on it and her mom bought it for her on the last field trip before things went bad and even if her mom lit all the candles herself the shirt's still really soft. "I don't wanna."
She doesn't. Not any of it.