[He's holding back, but he's still holding his own and no matter what she does, he meets her. At first, it only makes her angrier, but she isn't like him, and when the anger drains back into misery and stops short of fear, nothing changes. She keeps fighting anyway, fighting to stay submerged and fighting him.
Every time they meet now, it's that same strange something, that extra pull that sets her blood buzzing under her skin. It flicks against all the switches in her brain, lighting up more each time, and it's not what she wants even if the Hulk seems to feel the same effects, somehow waning in some unidentifiable way. His presence dims each time although he's still the brightest being, the densest body; the fragile space they move through bends around him a little less each time. It doesn't seem to stop him fighting, either.
Every time he's just as strong, every time he doesn't hit her, every time he looks at her with that infuriating expression and those too-knowing eyes, she pulls that much harder and comes that much closer to the hostile surface of awareness.
Betty's been gone for a long time. Not just since last night when she died or last week when she changed. There's a span of years, a void the size of an entire lifetime, between the thing she is now and the self she's buried; every coherent thought she has flinches from it, but the contours of that negative shape are Betty too, and she can't hide behind the nothingness forever.]
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[He's holding back, but he's still holding his own and no matter what she does, he meets her. At first, it only makes her angrier, but she isn't like him, and when the anger drains back into misery and stops short of fear, nothing changes. She keeps fighting anyway, fighting to stay submerged and fighting him.
Every time they meet now, it's that same strange something, that extra pull that sets her blood buzzing under her skin. It flicks against all the switches in her brain, lighting up more each time, and it's not what she wants even if the Hulk seems to feel the same effects, somehow waning in some unidentifiable way. His presence dims each time although he's still the brightest being, the densest body; the fragile space they move through bends around him a little less each time. It doesn't seem to stop him fighting, either.
Every time he's just as strong, every time he doesn't hit her, every time he looks at her with that infuriating expression and those too-knowing eyes, she pulls that much harder and comes that much closer to the hostile surface of awareness.
Betty's been gone for a long time. Not just since last night when she
diedor last week when she changed. There's a span of years, a void the size of an entire lifetime, between the thing she is now and the self she's buried; every coherent thought she has flinches from it, but the contours of that negative shape are Betty too, and she can't hide behind the nothingness forever.]