magicalpadawan | (no subject)

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Dammit.

[The voice on the PCD sounds a little tinny and staticy, as if it's music playing from a radio station that you can't quite get reception from. There is no picture, though the video function should be working, only a haze of static. The speaker smacks the PCD a time or two, and the picture flickers on to reveal what would be a stunningly gorgeous girl with long, dark purple hair, if she weren't so skinny and dressed in what appears to be rags. She looks half-starved, and her eyes are shadowed and a little annoyed as she scowls at the screen. When she speaks, her words are broken up by bursts of static. What? Tech doesn't work well with wizards.]

This better --kshhh-- one of your tricks -- kshhh-- don't have time for your stupid games.

[She smacks the PCD again with an irritated sigh, and the picture blacks out.] Can --kshhh-- me what happened to Chicago?

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[That in itself is a sign she's treading in dangerous waters, but Molly doesn't exactly care at the moment, though her better judgement says she really should. At Thomas' words, however, all that righteous outrage drains from her face and posture, and she grips her cane tightly enough that her knuckles whiten. Her voice wavers a little, but otherwise she is forcing herself to remain calm.]

I know that. I do. But it doesn't mean we can't fight for what he believed in.

[He turns away from Molly to hide the flash of empty, haunted guilt that flickers across his face, and continues moving again, the strides fractionally quicker. His tone is flat, almost emotionless, but the words come too smoothly, too quickly, betraying just how often they'd been said, how often they'd been repeated.]

What he believed in got him killed. I'm not about to do the same.

[She quickens her own pace to catch up with Thomas, staring firmly at her feet to hide the own guilt in her eyes. She doesn't look up, intent on not slipping on the snow, if anyone asks, but Molly does speak again, quiet and shaky.]

Not exactly.

[Her words are spoken so quietly that Thomas nearly misses them. But when he hears her, he abruptly stops and turns to Molly. His voice is cold. Flat.]

What do you mean.

[She draws back in spite of herself. Molly's seen too many people that are victims of vampires, lately, and she knows the power Thomas is capable of. But she looks up again, staring intently at a point just in between Thomas' eyes. Her voice is clear and as emotionless as Thomas' is, she doesn't trust herself to be anything other than painfully, completely sane right now.]

He planned it. He and I both did, he asked me to help.

[The words sink in slowly, more slowly than they should have because there are so few of them, but the weight of their implication is palpable. Thomas blinks, once. Twice. Three times. And as the words sink in, he moves, faster than a human being, faster than anything human-shaped had a right to move.

In the moment between heartbeats, he goes from standing out of arm's reach of Molly to pinning her against the wall of one of the derelict buildings. The air around him is cold, and there is a pale, luminous sheen to his skin. His hand is at Molly's throat in an iron grip, and silver gleams in his eyes, cold and angry.]

You. Did. What.

[She doesn't even have time to throw up a shield, half-hearted though her efforts would be, in any case. Molly is, once again, studiously avoiding his eyes as much as she possibly can, grappling at Thomas' hand, and manages to gasp out:]

Let me breathe, dumbass.

[The only clue that he'd even heard her words was the fact that his grip loosened ever so slightly around Molly's neck. Thomas neither moved away nor did his expression change, and the Hunger's predatory touch gilds the sharp cold anger in his voice when he speaks.]

You helped him plan what exactly.

[Molly takes a shaking breath and bites her lip a bit.]

He asked Kincaid to kill him, so Mab couldn't get to him to collect her debt. He asked me to veil it from him, so she wouldn't know when she healed him.

[And just as quickly and suddenly as he'd moved to pin her to the wall, Thomas' grip on Molly's throat is gone, letting gravity take over. He backs away a step, just staring at her. The comprehension slowly dawns in his eyes, even if the silver touch of the demon's presence is slower to fade.]

And neither of you thought to tell me about his brilliant plan.

[She falls and rubs her throat, keeping a wary eye on Thomas. Best not to move too much, if he's still looking like that.]

I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone.

You promised you wouldn't tell anyone.

[His next words come out in a bare hiss.]

He was my brother, Molly.

[Her free hand is searching for her wand, just in case.]

I know. And I -- [A shadow passes over her face, but it is brief, and she continues as if she'd never paused at all.]

He didn't want you to do anything stupid like get yourself killed.

[A bark of bitter laughter escapes Thomas, but it doesn't lessen the anger and pain still seething in his voice.]

You mean so I don't do anything like kill Kincaid before his stupid plan had a chance to work.

[Without waiting for Molly's response, Thomas turns and continues back on the way to the clinic.]

Maybe that, too.

[She sighs and pushes herself up, using her cane for leverage, and continues following.]

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