Prompt 43. Forgiveness
The gun had felt almost too heavy in her hands to not be real, the doubt of the thought had her looking at the weapon instead of at the man she was pointing at.
The distraction stretched too long for his comfort, with the agonizing hiccup of blood bubbling up his throat before he slammed a hand down with nearly all the strength he had left on the table in front of him to draw her attention back to the matter at hand.
"Ariadne. Now."
If she could have heard projections pounding down the door or a reign of chaos outside the windows, she thought it would have been much easier to raise the gun again and take aim. The squeeze of her finger against the cold and soulless metal of the trigger felt as if the bullet had to rip through her own body first before it could slam in between his pained but clear blue-gray eyes and make him collapse like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut.
Putting the gun to her own temple and squeezing the trigger again was much easier.
When she wakes he's already there with his arms open for her to throw herself into. Eames feels real and solid enough as he wraps his arms tightly around her and holds her close, making comforting noises with the soft stroking of his hand over the dark waves of her hair, that she feels no need to check her totem to be certain.
The distraction stretched too long for his comfort, with the agonizing hiccup of blood bubbling up his throat before he slammed a hand down with nearly all the strength he had left on the table in front of him to draw her attention back to the matter at hand.
"Ariadne. Now."
If she could have heard projections pounding down the door or a reign of chaos outside the windows, she thought it would have been much easier to raise the gun again and take aim. The squeeze of her finger against the cold and soulless metal of the trigger felt as if the bullet had to rip through her own body first before it could slam in between his pained but clear blue-gray eyes and make him collapse like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut.
Putting the gun to her own temple and squeezing the trigger again was much easier.
When she wakes he's already there with his arms open for her to throw herself into. Eames feels real and solid enough as he wraps his arms tightly around her and holds her close, making comforting noises with the soft stroking of his hand over the dark waves of her hair, that she feels no need to check her totem to be certain.