i can assure you, it was not an oversight. - Indiana Jones IV
WATER DRIPS FROM THE CIELING OF THE WOODEN SAFEHOUSE. Persephone raises a brow as she looks toward the other figure, her arms folded tight across her chest while thunder rolls through the safehouse walls like something trying to get in. Pierre had arranged the rescue and she knew she would owe him for it, another debt stacked on the quiet ledger she pretended not to keep. Indiana Jones stands across from her, half lit by the flickering lamp, and Persie tilts her head as if studying a relic she has not yet decided is worth stealing. The storm outside refuses to break, rain hammering the roof in relentless sheets, and the night feels swollen with pressure.
“If it is you involved, it is always an oversight” she says, her voice low and steady, and the words taste like a truth she has carried for too long. Here she sits with the hero, the legend, the man whose stories are told in every corner of the world, and all she feels is the smallness of her own early steps into villainy, a craft she has not yet mastered. Her gun rests in its holster at her hip, hidden for now beneath the loose fall of her shirt, but she is aware of its weight the way she is aware of her pulse, steady and ready beneath the storm.
a complicated situation ft. @brotherhoodwarlord
