I N B O X.

[catholicisms]

"You missed me, I'll get back to you. If you're leaving a message, I'd prefer voice to text. Thanks."

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[catholicisms]

( matt can't see the odd tint to her eyes, that's true. but it isn't true to say he doesn't notice something is wrong. it's little things, the way she pulls back. the space between them. the things she's not saying. the distance that she doesn't mention but he feels, all the same. and maybe that could just be a result of everything she's been through, and he has to remind himself that's fair. even with all the discussion of what happened, he doesn't really know what it's like to have lived it. he has no idea what she's going through, as much as he wants to be there for her.

it goes from bad to worse. she's sick, physically so. her body is revolting against something, and he can't really guess what. she's not told him exactly hat happened in the medical center, beyond a few mentions when they were escaping. Matt hasn't wanted to push. it might be a bit of a stretch to guess what is happening now is related to the attack, but the fact remains they haven't had much reason to be sick since they've arrived in their afterlife. beyond him being sick from the smell of rotting corpse flower, they've both been healthy.

it might be a hell of a guess, but he has to all the same assume that something that happened in her captivity is to blame for how ill she feels now. it just reminds him of exactly how powerless he is; there's little he can protect her from, here. not even the mundanity of feeling ill.

she's laying on the couch and while she didn't necessarily ask for company, he rubs her shoulder, anyway. ) Here. Maybe this will help. ( it's a teeny, tensile offering... but a cup of tea would be the most she's put down in a few days. and he's worried, he can't help it. )

[ultraviolents]

[ she's pulled away because she's frightened and angry; not of him or at him but at what's been done to her and what she could be becoming. there were theories in the downtime, that the green eyed spirits had been trying to turn them into their kind, and she can't tell at this point whether or not they were successful. she still feels like herself, but who knows how long that will last? matthew's there, remaining close whenever she allows him to be and giving her space when she needs it. she doesn't end up asking if he can sense anything different, both due to not wanting to worry him further and being afraid to find out if her theory is correct. the baby mandrake spirit had taken to crying whenever they sensed her near, right before she'd noticed the glow in her eyes. maybe it's a sign of what's to come.

she can't tell if the glint is still there. she hasn't felt inclined to look while in the bathroom, too sick and weak to move from her spot on the floor. she's only on the couch now because the vomiting's subsided for the time being, though the nausea is still very much present. she's not sure how long she manages to rest before matthew's at her side, rubbing a hand over her shoulder and offering tea; it doesn't feel like it's been very long, but apparently she'd slept through him moving around the kitchen. her eyes blink slowly a couple times as she focuses on him, pushing herself up on her elbow enough to accept the cup he offers. ]

Thank you. [ her voice is small and weak and she hates it. she hazards a tiny sip of the liquid; it's prepared enough to her liking that the taste is soothing and pleasant, but it doesn't go down easy and settles even worse. she grimaces, shivering as a chill runs through her. she pulls the blanket tighter as she settles back down, pressing her cheek into the couch cushion. ] I don't know how long it'll stay down.

[catholicisms]

( he wasn't there, and he missed out on much of the theories. it has yet to feel like a good time to ask. what it was like in there. what she experienced. what they did. he's heard it in figments and pieces and whispers, some from her but most of them not. maybe he's better off not knowing. maybe he's better off not asking. as much as he wants to know, he also doesn't. whether he wants to or not, Matt will have to ask at some point. he can't not. but he knows better than to press now, when she's still reeling. when this illness out of nowhere has her feeling even worse. )

I know. ( he's been there, after all. when the corpse flowers blossomed, he'd hardly been able to keep water down. he's not sure what is hurting her that left her just as sick — after all, there hasn't been many colds or flus in their afterlife. but he's still worried about her, and knows that even if most of it comes back up, she needs both the hydration and the calories he snuck in with the honey he laced it with. )

Drink what you can. ( and when she seems solid enough for more, he'll make her more. he pulls the long strands of her hair over her shoulder so his touch can land at her neck, rubbing a careful touch of comfort with the pad of his thumb near her spine. )

[ultraviolents]

[ that he hasn't asked is probably for the best, even though she's sure he must want to. she doesn't know what the others who'd been taken are saying about what they've been through, if everyone's been suffering through this or no one else is. her mind drifts occasionally to a conversation she'd had with another captive, right after she'd been returned from force feeding. she'd said it'd be better if it was out, was this what she'd meant?

she closes her eyes against the touch, allowing herself the comfort it offers. after a few moments of it she elevates slightly to take the tea from him and sip from it again. her stomach really isn't liking her attempts to keep something inside it, quavering with whatever she manages to get down, but she manages about half of it before needing to settle back down. ]

Can you hear anything? [ maybe it's an odd time to ask, maybe she should have asked earlier, when she first noticed the gleam in her eye. she's been afraid to know. she's still afraid to know. but if this is happening to her because something's changed or is being altered, maybe it's better she knows. maybe it's better to make him aware of it, in case she becomes something dangerous. ]

[catholicisms]

( he can tell when the tea starts to revolt, thanks to super ears. he reaches for the mug wordlessly to place it next to her, figuring she was probably better off using her energy to try and keep some of it down, instead of worrying about keeping hold of the glass. he leans against the back of the couch, elbows propped against the cushions, glasses off and unseeing eyes looking down at her. his expression unguardedly worried — even if he isn't asking questions, they're practically written on his face.

Matt's brow tucks downward at the question. hear anything? he hears all sorts of things, all the time. that's not quite specific enough to know exactly what she means. ) Like what? ( he's not being cagey, exactly... but he hears a lot of things, probably more than Elektra really wants to know. Foggy's reaction to exactly how refined his hearing is had been enough for Matt to proceed with caution with sharing more than he has to. )

[ultraviolents]

[ her head tips back against the side of the couch as she closes her eyes for a second, trying to breathe through a wave of nausea. she's hoping to keep what she's drank down long enough to retain some of the hydration and calories, but based on how it's been settling she's not all that optimistic.

her eyes reopen when he asks her to clarify what she meant by the question, and for a second she wants to tell him not to worry about it. if he has to ask, that means he hasn't heard anything she should be worried about, doesn't it? but that's the coward's way out and she knows it. more than that, she knows it's not fair to not let him know she might be becoming something even more dangerous. ]

Anything different about me. [ her head swims a little as she tries to prop herself up, to get a better look at his face. her stomach cramps violently in protest and she winces, curving in on herself for a second, but pushes through it until she's upright. ] Aside from the sickness, is there - is there something wrong? Anything that sounds different than it did before?

[ however weak it is, her voice starts out relatively steady. it ends wavering, genuine fear creeping into her tone. ]

[catholicisms]

( logically, yes. that's a fair assumption. and also the correct assumption — if Matt sensed something off, it would be very likely she'd know about it. if not because he'd ask about it, just in the way he treated her. he's worried, sure, and that's obvious. something supernaturally or physically off about her, though, and he's bound to be more anxious. and while Matt hides things incredibly well, he's never been any good at hiding anything from Elektra.

still, as she asks, he is silent long enough to take her in. really take her in, all the bits and pieces and signals and fragments that he pieces together to make a whole. her temperature is surprisingly low for the flush against her skin. her smell is soured by the fact she can't keep anything down. there's a stale sweat sealed to her skin, paired with soap and tea and the smoky hint of jasmine perfume that she still indulges in and he can still smell on her a good week since she'd put any on last. her heartbeat is faster, and spikes faster still as she waits for his answer. her entire body is suddenly knit into a tight, tense crumple, anticipating an ugly truth she's not ready to face.

none of it to be particularly unexpected, considering what she's going through. so he's absolutely honest when he assures quietly, ) No. I don't sense anything off. ( that doesn't mean there isn't something wrong, off — it just means what remains of his senses aren't astute enough to catch it. or it could be something that he can't track at all. that happens more than plenty in Beacon, too. )

Elektra, what happened in there? Why are you asking me this? ( there's a worried and guilty tinge to his tone as he asks, but he can't not, after a question like that. )

[ultraviolents]

[ the breath she's been holding since she'd gotten the question out is exhaled shakily, stuttering as her stomach starts cramping in warning again. she deflates against the back of the couch, eyes sliding shut again in mild relief at his confirmation. she's not naive enough to believe she's out of the woods, especially with how she's currently feeling, but that he doesn't hear any difference aside from the illness she's suffering is something of a comfort anyway.

he has a question of his own, once he answers hers, and it's one she knows he has to have had on his mind but was hoping he wouldn't get around to asking. she'd mentioned it as they were fighting their way out, but hadn't gone into detail since they'd arrived home. he hasn't pressed, hasn't done anything except try to help her heal, but she knows he's been worried. ]

They - [ she draws in a slow, deep breath when she hears the waver in her voice again, trying to will it out. ] The green-eyed spirits, they tried to put themselves inside us. They'd cut us open and try to pour their blood in our wounds, they'd pry open our mouths and force feed us their dead.

[ a sudden chill rolls through her as she recounts the memory, leaving her shivering and nauseous. she swallows as she pulls the blanket tighter. ]

I forced it out whenever they'd bring us back, as much as I could. But when we got back, before I got sick, I saw - [ she swallows again, against her mouth filling suddenly with water ] - my eyes looked like theirs.

[ she doesn't know if they still do, but it feels like she's about to get the opportunity to find out. ]

Matthew, I'm - [ she cuts herself off, bolting upright as she claps a hand hastily over her mouth. ]

wrap here or on yours mb?

[catholicisms]

( his touch lingers at her shoulder, and tightens slowly as she forces herself to give him details she doesn't really want to share. they've insisted on honesty with each other, have they not? even truth that's ugly. truth that isn't easy to hear. his stomach roils in protest at the idea of what feels close to forced cannibalism, and he only has to imagine it. not experience it. )

Looked like theirs how? ( Matt, sadly, doesn't honestly have much concept of the wicked green glow of the green eyes. he can connect the dots that she means ... green, but details beyond that? he doesn't know. sadly that's not a piece of the puzzle his super senses can fill in.

still, when her stomach starts to revolt, he knows that it's not really a good time for her to answer. he lets her go, knowing that she's going to have to flee as fast as she possibly can for the bathroom. she doesn't have to suffer the experience alone, though — he'll be with her, trying to keep her hair out of the fray and a careful touch of comfort on her shoulder until it seems the worst of the vile is out. )

I'm with you, ( he promises, even though that's about all he can do for her right now. he won't push the subject of the spirits anymore, though the idea that consuming a spirit was connected to making the green eyes what they were is far from lost on him. it's just not worth it to keep pushing that subject any farther. not when she's still suffering the worst of it. )

sure!

[ultraviolents]

[ she hasn't kept this from him out of a desire to hide anything from him, and she really hopes he knows that. she'd kept it from him because she's been trying to convince herself she was projecting the memories of what she'd been through, that her mind was playing tricks on her after the trauma, because facing what might really be happening, that she could be becoming something harmful and frightening, was terrifying.

she'd died trying to prevent it from happening before. now it might be happening anyway and she doesn't know how to stop it.

he gets his question out right before she starts gagging and she doesn't really have the time to respond. as it is, she barely makes it into the bathroom, stumbling over her own feet as she pitches through the doorway and nearly faceplanting on the floor. she manages to catch her balance and makes it just as she starts retching, her stomach turning itself inside out as it rids itself of its contents. she's aware of his hands through her hair and on her shoulder as she empties her stomach, as careful and steady as his voice in their attempts to protect and comfort, and it's oddly reassuring even if it doesn't necessarily make her feel better. she was afraid. she's still afraid.

considering how little she's managed to get down, there's not much to come up, but her body seems determined to rid itself of every part of the spirits she'd consumed, down to the molecule. in addition to the tea, she loses a not insignificant amount of stomach acid and dry heaves a few times before her body finally relents and she leans back against the wall, curling over her knees and covering her eyes. ]

They glowed. [ her voice is low and rasping; her throat aches with the burn of the acid. he'd seemed to have put the question aside for the moment and she appreciates that, but she doesn't want him to think she'd forgotten he'd asked. ] And they were green.