Anonymous asked: If you are in the mood to write pain (and, really, when aren't you in the mood to write pain): Rachel/Tobias during the early war
*mean cackling* So when I’m in a very particular mood
about the little girl I used to be and how much she was screwed over, I tend to
take it out on my characters. Ergo, I am
banned from touching my Alleirat story until our houseguest leaves, and will
instead be writing Animorphs because how much worse could I make it. Sorry. And since this got pretty long and also there’s not exactly loads of
Animorphs fic, I crossposted it to AO3. If you like Animorphs, maybe comment on that
shit or something.
here we stand (with our arms folded)
It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since
the disastrous attack on the Yeerk pool, the sun still over the trees at the
edge of the forest where it butted up against Cassie’s farm. The horse she’d morphed, whose quick legs had
saved Cassie and one single woman the night before, was loose in the field, and
Rachel was cross-legged on a crate in the barn as Cassie murmured to a wounded
rabbit. Rachel felt dazed, with
exhaustion and shock, as if every blink and turn of her head demanded a fresh
calibration of her brain, a new moment of I’m
alive and nothing is okay. She’d
spent an hour in the shower after getting home, with the water as hot as she
could stand, but she could still feel the grit of the Yeerk pool floor on her
palms and feet, and kept expecting to catch a glimpse of Hork-Bajir blood on
her human teeth in the mirror.
Cassie didn’t seem much better, her hands
still where she would usually be smoothly going through her tasks and her voice
mindless nonsense, as if she was as numb as Rachel. The silence wasn’t quite tense, but there was
an unmistakable taut feeling that kept even the noisiest patients subdued and
quiet.
“Did Jake say why he wanted to talk to us?”
Rachel finally asked, and Cassie glanced up, shaking her head.
“No,” she said.
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