Date: 2013-08-08 05:24 am (UTC)
subtleserenity: (dead sober)
[Smoke, blood, dirt... the battlefield. There's a voice in her ear telling them to lay down arms. They're on their own. She turns to look at two men she doesn't recognize. And then the sound of death.]

Not dyin'. It hurt, too.

[And the sense that it had never stopped hurting worries her with needle-sharp teeth even now. She doesn't trust him enough to tell him just yet. Not everything.]

There was a war. The Keeper said I could protect him, make up for not doing it right the first time.

[But his face, even his voice is distant, muddled. She can't quite recall either.]
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subtleserenity

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