[ There's more that he wants to say, because her lack of a response is telling, at least to him. He tries to force the words to come out, but all he manages is a strangled sounding exhale. The fight with the Dark Presence took more out of him than even he has realized. But he believes in Jesse, believes that she is more than capable of working with the scars left behind by her experiences and turning them into strengths. He knows that it's paradoxical, but he wants to work alongside her to help her turn what she's gone through into something she can use. But telling her as much will have to wait until he's stronger.
If he could find the strength to say it, he'd reiterate again how much he loves her. How grateful he is to her. Instead, he tries to put as much of those expressions into his eyes as he can. Again his eyes slide closed for a second or two in response to her hand resting against his cheek, fingers brushing along the skin there. Her touch comforts him, and it makes him feel loved. Not forgotten about. Not alone.
But then Jesse stops him from talking by pressing her fingers against his lips, and again, he has to rely on his expressions to communicate what he wants. The look in his eyes speaks volumes, if she's looking. The exhaustion is there, but the desperate need to pull himself together and start writing is starting to drown that out. Or, it would if his state of mind was more stable. His breath hitches, and his already heavy breathing quickens as a panicked kind of hysteria claws at him. It's muted by his exhaustion, of course, and his inability to move hinders him further, but it does nothing to stop the chaotic thoughts churning in his head.
If I'm not writing, something else will write for me, and we've seen what happens then. Who will die this time? How many of them? It's- It's hard to undo something once it's been done. I have to be writing, to get ahead of it, or it'll get ahead of me, and then- and then people will die.
Alan's gaze is still directed at Jesse as his lips begin to move again. His voice still has that same quiet tone, but loud enough to be heard. ]
I won't let anyone else die. No more deaths. There's been too many.
...No, I can't do this again. Not this. Please.
[ The sentences don't seem to follow each other in any sort of logical way, but Alan isn't aware of how odd they must sound. He's too worn out to keep up the seemingly endless flood of thoughts that his mind wants to get lost in; well, it doesn't want it, but it's just something that happens. But now, Alan doesn't want it to happen; he wants to stop it, wants to hold it at bay.
It can't get you in here right now. But it'll come back. It always comes back. It'll take me again. I don't want it to take me again.
Alan leans against her more, putting more of his weight on her, as he lacks the strength to stand on his own. It's not just the lingering weakness rendering him unable to stand; it's the fear of being taken by the Dark Presence again. That fear never goes away, but somehow it's worse now. Stronger than before, leaving him weaker than before.
Let Polaris help the Light how you need it. Yes, I need it. The Light. It's supposed to help, isn't it? I need it to help. I need to be stronger, to get back to work. What good is being awake if I can't do anything?
Letting it help means surrendering to it, and surrendering in general has never been something he's good at. But now, he needs it. He needs the Light, if it really will restore his strength. He can't continue this fight on his own, so he just lets go. His knees bend suddenly, and he'd be falling if not for Jesse's hold on him. Instinctively, he reaches for her, hands wrapping around her to slow his descent, even though his knees don't want to support his weight any longer. ]
no subject
If he could find the strength to say it, he'd reiterate again how much he loves her. How grateful he is to her. Instead, he tries to put as much of those expressions into his eyes as he can. Again his eyes slide closed for a second or two in response to her hand resting against his cheek, fingers brushing along the skin there. Her touch comforts him, and it makes him feel loved. Not forgotten about. Not alone.
But then Jesse stops him from talking by pressing her fingers against his lips, and again, he has to rely on his expressions to communicate what he wants. The look in his eyes speaks volumes, if she's looking. The exhaustion is there, but the desperate need to pull himself together and start writing is starting to drown that out. Or, it would if his state of mind was more stable. His breath hitches, and his already heavy breathing quickens as a panicked kind of hysteria claws at him. It's muted by his exhaustion, of course, and his inability to move hinders him further, but it does nothing to stop the chaotic thoughts churning in his head.
If I'm not writing, something else will write for me, and we've seen what happens then. Who will die this time? How many of them? It's- It's hard to undo something once it's been done. I have to be writing, to get ahead of it, or it'll get ahead of me, and then- and then people will die.
Alan's gaze is still directed at Jesse as his lips begin to move again. His voice still has that same quiet tone, but loud enough to be heard. ]
I won't let anyone else die. No more deaths. There's been too many.
...No, I can't do this again. Not this. Please.
[ The sentences don't seem to follow each other in any sort of logical way, but Alan isn't aware of how odd they must sound. He's too worn out to keep up the seemingly endless flood of thoughts that his mind wants to get lost in; well, it doesn't want it, but it's just something that happens. But now, Alan doesn't want it to happen; he wants to stop it, wants to hold it at bay.
It can't get you in here right now. But it'll come back. It always comes back. It'll take me again. I don't want it to take me again.
Alan leans against her more, putting more of his weight on her, as he lacks the strength to stand on his own. It's not just the lingering weakness rendering him unable to stand; it's the fear of being taken by the Dark Presence again. That fear never goes away, but somehow it's worse now. Stronger than before, leaving him weaker than before.
Let Polaris help the Light how you need it. Yes, I need it. The Light. It's supposed to help, isn't it? I need it to help. I need to be stronger, to get back to work. What good is being awake if I can't do anything?
Letting it help means surrendering to it, and surrendering in general has never been something he's good at. But now, he needs it. He needs the Light, if it really will restore his strength. He can't continue this fight on his own, so he just lets go. His knees bend suddenly, and he'd be falling if not for Jesse's hold on him. Instinctively, he reaches for her, hands wrapping around her to slow his descent, even though his knees don't want to support his weight any longer. ]