Better run, better run- faster than my bullet

Axelle Napier · 08-23-2012, 03:14 AM

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Quiet like you,
Violent like you

[WC: 451 || Pts: 3]

Hehe Smile

Axelle continued to look at his leg, lifting it the slightest bit out of the water, careful not to throw Itzal’s floating balance off. ”Um, didn’t you say not ten minutes ago that you could bleed to death in the water?” She let go of his leg and exhaled enough to sink into the murky waters. She swam back under him to the other side; her head was the only thing to pop up this time. ”I think you should get it checked out.” She couldn’t really tell him where to go. Halifax was the closest thing available and all she could think of was Rio. ”There’s a woman who lives here in Halifax, Rio. She’s not too skilled, but she could at least wrap it and give you some healing gel to help it.” Axelle was unaware that they had already met. Rio had healed her in her worst of states – and look at that, she was still alive. She must be a little bit better by now in her newfound skill.

Hearing Itzal’s second comment, she smirked. Their second meeting. Itzal came with her to buy weapons, and that’s where she fell in love with her crossbow - and almost shot him in the head, on purpose. It was also where she realized how dangerous he was, but how that much more she wanted him around her. It was one of the times she realized what she liked – danger. All the time. ”Hah. Yeah, I guess you did.” She made little splashes with one of her fingers and kept her eyes on that for a few seconds. She heard his question and thought about it for a few seconds. Then she looked up at him and into his eyes, ”Yes…” There was a small silent pause as she looked back down at the little ripples her fingers were making, ”I think you should come back. Anathema had always suited you the best. I think it’s either Anathema or Salsola for you, but I vote Anathema.” She was honest enough; plus, she wanted to keep him around for at least a little while.

There was another silent pause after that, a shorter one this time as she was reminded that her former lover might have been slowly bleeding to death. ”Come on. Let’s go sit on the bank – I’m clean enough. You?” She was as clean as she was going to get. She was in no way, shape, or form going to touch her wounds as they hurt too much. Plus, she hated leaving her crossbow so far away. It was an unspoken bond that they had – something like no other bond she had with anyone else – between item and owner.

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