The first time his emotion sweeps over her, it engulfs her, swallows her whole; a riptide, a forest fire, a whirlwind of aboriginal force, a fervor not felt in millennia nor easily forgotten.
Mockingbird has felt nothing from him before; not a hint nor a whisper of his intentions, his thoughts, his feelings, toward her.
Now it is as if she is grasping at the threads of a fraying rope, fingernails cracking and breaking as she scrambles to keep herself from washing away.
He is far from her- the other side of the planet, in fact- yet his vast presence engulfs her; she struggles alone in her own whirling tides, yet she is surrounded, suffocated, within a cloud of heightened energy.
A moment of calm in the storm and a single thought of how strange it is to be so exceedingly desperate for attention yet so terribly strangled once recognized. Then and only then does Mockingbird allow herself to be swept away; a leaf twisting, tumbling in the wind.
Her own rage struggles to match his. It fluctuates, rises, only to be beaten back and mangled, barely able to compete with such a force as his, yet too stubborn to renounce its place in her burning chest and rigid bones.
With a tightening of limbs and a fierce exhale of breath, she folds herself as small as she can; she cowers not only from her arrogant god, but from herself, afraid of her own fury, afraid of the damage she might cause, afraid that she will lose to the creatures that have chosen to make her planet home, and above all, that she will become a distant memory, forgotten within the gnarled mind of a merciless universe.
