where the evening splits in half (PG13)inkvoicesAugust 13 2012, 23:43:50 UTC
Warnings: mild swearing, murder, lots of blood, wanting to die.
Author Note: this is a prologue of sorts for the small acts verse by workerbee73 and bob5fic, also with an epilogue by sugar_fey. This verse took over my brain. Thank you for letting me play in your sandbox!
Extract:
“Once upon a time,” begins the storyteller.
Language is a lens through which the world is viewed and the ones that tell the stories paint the glass so beautifully, making an art out of lies.
Natalia, Natasha, Natalie, Nadine, Nancy, Naomi.
Romanova, Tsarina, Slut, Bitch, Whore.
Words are names and labels put to objects and ideas, and names and labels, she knows, are nothing. Words are like breasts, hips, and thighs: things to use, to manipulate people with, and deadly. Words are weapons. Truth can only be learnt from action. People can only be judged by what they do. Experiences are the only thing that can be trusted and even there she treads warily.
So when the Ambassador escorts her outside, telling her that they’re going to his fancy car and then to his home, seductive words falling from his mouth, she is ready. She is ready for the dark of the abandoned factory, the bullets, and the pain.
Author Note: this is a prologue of sorts for the small acts verse by workerbee73 and bob5fic, also with an epilogue by sugar_fey. This verse took over my brain. Thank you for letting me play in your sandbox!
Extract:
“Once upon a time,” begins the storyteller.
Language is a lens through which the world is viewed and the ones that tell the stories paint the glass so beautifully, making an art out of lies.
Natalia, Natasha, Natalie, Nadine, Nancy, Naomi.
Romanova, Tsarina, Slut, Bitch, Whore.
Words are names and labels put to objects and ideas, and names and labels, she knows, are nothing. Words are like breasts, hips, and thighs: things to use, to manipulate people with, and deadly. Words are weapons. Truth can only be learnt from action. People can only be judged by what they do. Experiences are the only thing that can be trusted and even there she treads warily.
So when the Ambassador escorts her outside, telling her that they’re going to his fancy car and then to his home, seductive words falling from his mouth, she is ready. She is ready for the dark of the abandoned factory, the bullets, and the pain.
full fic at my journal
Or here on AO3. With thanks to dictator_duck for being the one who got me an AO3 invite :)
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