[ Holland isn't foolish enough to keep working himself up like this. He also doesn't trust himself alone, honestly. For so long he'd done whatever he needed to do. Years ago, he'd simply had to stop letting his anger get the best of him, simply allowed his body to act of its own will and do what it wanted. The Danes wanted to see him suffer, so he'd had to convince himself he wasn't suffering. He'd never stopped fighting, not where it mattered in his heart, but his body... was something else entirely. It wasn't entirely his.
It is now, of course, but at times Holland finds he doesn't know what to do with it. And likely it's better he walk this off with Kell than light this whole place a fire with a lightning strike or something like that. As much as Holland is a killer, he doesn't want to kill. ]
Fine.
[ He goes, the air around him still frigid, though he is working it down slowly. Holland should be better than this. He's stronger, the one in control. But this place has him completely out of sorts. This party, this world -- touching Kell and being touched by others... none of it makes any sense, and as much as Holland may think he's handling it, he clearly isn't.
But he needs to. He runs a hand through his hair, shaking off what little he'd done with it. It's darker here than it was in White London, a fact that isn't lost on him. He also takes his mask off while he's at it, holding it in his hand and crumbling it to dust. A bird, what was he thinking? When was the last time anyone had seen a bird in White London? He was a fool for even thinking it.
Just as he knows he's a fool for this tantrum, but it's too late now. He follows Kell. ]
no subject
It is now, of course, but at times Holland finds he doesn't know what to do with it. And likely it's better he walk this off with Kell than light this whole place a fire with a lightning strike or something like that. As much as Holland is a killer, he doesn't want to kill. ]
Fine.
[ He goes, the air around him still frigid, though he is working it down slowly. Holland should be better than this. He's stronger, the one in control. But this place has him completely out of sorts. This party, this world -- touching Kell and being touched by others... none of it makes any sense, and as much as Holland may think he's handling it, he clearly isn't.
But he needs to. He runs a hand through his hair, shaking off what little he'd done with it. It's darker here than it was in White London, a fact that isn't lost on him. He also takes his mask off while he's at it, holding it in his hand and crumbling it to dust. A bird, what was he thinking? When was the last time anyone had seen a bird in White London? He was a fool for even thinking it.
Just as he knows he's a fool for this tantrum, but it's too late now. He follows Kell. ]