(no subject)
There are decisions that are made in split seconds; the fire and passion of the idea consuming any common sense you have left. There are decisions that have to be thought through; slow and methodical as hell, but worth it when you know you got it right.
Then there are those decisions you wish you never had to make. The ones that reveal how heartless you truly are, the ones that leave your gut burning and your little fingers tingling with nervousness.
Lilith doesn't waste time with shoulda, woulda, coulda, her mind is made up and there ain't nothin' left but cold, hard steel. The old-fashioned door knob is easy enough to deal with, just unscrew the supports and lift the thing clean off, trusting the carpet inside to take care of the thump of the other side. She hopes he's a heavy sleeper, if not it could get ugly.
Atlas. It always came back to them. The only fuckers in the Universe she couldn't outrun. There's a bounty on her head could feed a small planet for a year, that ain't something you come back from. Which leaves two options. Keep running, or broker a deal.
He did all the wrong things. He promised to go with her. He pushed. And now one thing's for certain, the only way Mordecai is making it to Pandora, is in a pair of handcuffs. The door opens with barely a whisper and the quiet padding of her bare feet make even less noise. She is not trained in stealth, but it serves her well when it has to.
She wants this to be easy, needs it to be uncomplicated. She is full of misplaced confidence.
The figure in the bed is still, sleeping and when she approaches her friend she can see the tired lines on his face. His chest rises ever so slightly and then falls. His face is that of a young man, without the jaded cynicism he wears in waking. Lilith swallows, drawing her hunting knife; sharp enough to cut the jugular of any man she takes exception to.
She swings onto his bed with cat-like grace, one leg on either side of him. She gets the knife to his throat before his eyelids have a chance to flutter and then she waits for him to open his eyes. He's no fool and she knows he'll catch on quick.
Then there are those decisions you wish you never had to make. The ones that reveal how heartless you truly are, the ones that leave your gut burning and your little fingers tingling with nervousness.
Lilith doesn't waste time with shoulda, woulda, coulda, her mind is made up and there ain't nothin' left but cold, hard steel. The old-fashioned door knob is easy enough to deal with, just unscrew the supports and lift the thing clean off, trusting the carpet inside to take care of the thump of the other side. She hopes he's a heavy sleeper, if not it could get ugly.
Atlas. It always came back to them. The only fuckers in the Universe she couldn't outrun. There's a bounty on her head could feed a small planet for a year, that ain't something you come back from. Which leaves two options. Keep running, or broker a deal.
He did all the wrong things. He promised to go with her. He pushed. And now one thing's for certain, the only way Mordecai is making it to Pandora, is in a pair of handcuffs. The door opens with barely a whisper and the quiet padding of her bare feet make even less noise. She is not trained in stealth, but it serves her well when it has to.
She wants this to be easy, needs it to be uncomplicated. She is full of misplaced confidence.
The figure in the bed is still, sleeping and when she approaches her friend she can see the tired lines on his face. His chest rises ever so slightly and then falls. His face is that of a young man, without the jaded cynicism he wears in waking. Lilith swallows, drawing her hunting knife; sharp enough to cut the jugular of any man she takes exception to.
She swings onto his bed with cat-like grace, one leg on either side of him. She gets the knife to his throat before his eyelids have a chance to flutter and then she waits for him to open his eyes. He's no fool and she knows he'll catch on quick.