"I am not to speak to you." Anakkala said stiffly, shaking herself away from his gaze. She began to pace. He continued to talk, his words becoming a steady drone.
"Such faith you have in Santiago, who is my subordinate."
She turned to watch him again. Again his eye began to move, and she stared at it with fascination, watched it as if following a moon across a night sky.
"She captivates you, so great is her charisma. You look at her and are filled with admiration, feel your own will slipping away."
Anakkala’s breathing slowed. A flush came to her face and her eyes became wide, deep, blue. Her hands began to loosen, the tension draining from her shoulders.
"You wake and think of her eyes. You sleep...you sleep and believe..."
Now he trailed off, but she remained as still as a waxen statue, watching him, watching everything about him.
"You believe she can keep me here, but perhaps she cannot."
He lifted his hands and they parted easily, the shackles falling away. Anakkala gasped and half-lifted her weapon, but her eyes remained wide, transfixed, her motions dreamlike.
"Watch the face of your enemy."
He reached up and brushed his hand across his own face, then moved forward and brushed his hand across hers.
"This is the face of your enemy."
He stroked her face again, caressing her, his voice a whisper.
"This is the enemy you seek." One more time.
"Now I will leave." He turned and walked away.
"Stop!" she cried, through lips thick and numb. She lifted her weapon, turned it on him, on her enemy, on the enemy she was... She felt her hands shaking as he turned back, his face impassive. The face...she turned her weapon, felt her wrist shaking as it turned back towards...her own face...
There was a burst, short and sharp. Yang watched impassively as Anakkala fired, transforming her face into a swirling mist of blood and tissue. He shuddered once, remembering the beauty in her deep blue eyes.
when yang tells you to kill yourself you better believe you'll fucking kill yourself
They're in the Alpha Centuri fanclub.
