or discord within all kinds of relationships
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Waverly looks like she’s steeling herself to take a bullet. “I hurt Nicole.”
Wynonna’s eyes widened.
“She’ll forgive you, accidents —”
“Wasn’t an accident,” Waverly cut off determinedly, fingertips still shaking.
“What — what was it— ”
“Purposeful. I hurt her on purpose. Nicole, Wynonna. Something’s wrong... really, really wrong.”
Wynonna blanched at her tone — it was rare to hear Waverly this terrified. She expelled a fucking demon from her body and started making jokes and herbal teas disguised as coffee. That was just Waverly. This was...
“Like.. Mikshun wrong?”
“No... this was entirely conscious. At this point, I kind of wish it was still Mikshun."
OR, Waverly is terrified of what she can intrinsically feel herself capable of, and is tired of being told it's something to kill, because it's not something. She remembers what Dolls said -- "The thing inside me isn't a passenger; it's just me."
It's just her. And there's a part of her that doesn't want to kill it. Even a part that would fight for it.
(This is basically a dark, tragically fated love triangle between Waverly, her soul & her identity.)