Hey! [ the pillow attacking him stops. she holds her weapon up, covering her face as a shield against his new way of attack. she'd been hitting him with more than a pillow since the day they met; with her words, her distance, her stone walls. cora knows how to throw a punch, there's no doubt that she understands the physical nature of fighting, but when it comes to not closing all doors and windows to someone possibly getting to know her, it's still something new. she struggles to find a balance with even her brother. but she forgets, sometimes, that jacob black isn't an unmoving wall; he strikes back. she'd been wondering when he would — if he would — for he never struck her as the type to simply take shit from those he cares about. (and he doesn't. cora's blind to seeing that him sticking around is him fighting her every step of the way.) ]
[ supposedly cares about. it's weird to think of herself as someone he could care about. he's the sun and she's the cloud. don't clouds block the warmth of the sun? ]
[ she chooses to reprimand him instead. she frowns, her tone serious. ] You're not supposed to fight back.
it is important for you to know that i wrote this tag while on holiday because you suck
[ supposedly cares about. it's weird to think of herself as someone he could care about. he's the sun and she's the cloud. don't clouds block the warmth of the sun? ]
[ she chooses to reprimand him instead. she frowns, her tone serious. ] You're not supposed to fight back.
[ except he is. ]
[ and he does. ]
[ of course. ]
[ hasn't he been fighting her all this time? ]