Firefly Ravine [M] Pulling the heads from dolls

The single step she'd managed to take became nothing more than a waste of energy, for he'd matched it naught even a moment later. From there, he'd moved his head forward, too, practically begging her to lash out at him. The temptation was certainly there, the only thing holding her back being the numerous possible outcomes of her actions. Doing so would mean shortening the distance even more, given him ample room to retaliate. Having worked well to avoid confrontations for the majority of her life, she wasn't yet ready to fall off the wagon—or, so had been what she'd originally believed. While she had yet to act against him, she could feel herself beginning to gravitate towards his form, unknowing that which might arise from doing so.

"Fear you? I don't trust you," came her correction, blunt as usual. "I don't trust this—myself." The cat was out of the bag, the momentary confusion of her mind giving her instincts the chance to take the reins, if only for a moment. During their brief ruling, she'd taken another step, though this time it was towards him. She'd regretted the movement right after, but it went by uncorrected nevertheless. Instincts, her body, they were beginning to win the match against her mind, something she had expected to never happen.