[It'd be an effort, but he's right. She could stop all the nightmares, the constant clawing feeling beneath her skin, the screaming urgency she feels each time her temper rises . . .
She comes to a halt. Her back is still to him, she lifts her hand, glancing down at her palm. It's far easier to call up that darkness now than it was a few weeks ago; in an instant it's curling around her fingers, twisting and writhing like some living thing.]
You'd be giving up a few things yourself, if we did that.
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She comes to a halt. Her back is still to him, she lifts her hand, glancing down at her palm. It's far easier to call up that darkness now than it was a few weeks ago; in an instant it's curling around her fingers, twisting and writhing like some living thing.]
You'd be giving up a few things yourself, if we did that.