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]

( 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.