Midpoint Pre-Game
May. 4th, 2020 01:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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(Continued/deviated from here.)
The silhouette, the tensed mass of A Person, Without Specificity, stills her at the doorway by itself. Easier to tense than venture back already, and clearly moving forward would be unwise. The glint off the barrel pointed her way justifies that line of thought; in fact, perhaps no broad movements at all quite yet.
His lantern isn't in her immediate view, but she doesn't need that highly identifiable object dangled in front of her to recognize the obvious when it's right in front of her. The impossible. Because everything-- because he'd--
"Soldat?" She manages, hardly louder than a sigh. It takes all the air she has left. She'll wait, counting her own heartbeats, eyes darting from menacing barrel to familiar, sorely welcome face under furrowed brows.
It can't be.
The silhouette, the tensed mass of A Person, Without Specificity, stills her at the doorway by itself. Easier to tense than venture back already, and clearly moving forward would be unwise. The glint off the barrel pointed her way justifies that line of thought; in fact, perhaps no broad movements at all quite yet.
His lantern isn't in her immediate view, but she doesn't need that highly identifiable object dangled in front of her to recognize the obvious when it's right in front of her. The impossible. Because everything-- because he'd--
"Soldat?" She manages, hardly louder than a sigh. It takes all the air she has left. She'll wait, counting her own heartbeats, eyes darting from menacing barrel to familiar, sorely welcome face under furrowed brows.
It can't be.