#fatedtwist

100 nonverbal prompts ( accepting )   ↪  @fatedtwist​  asked  : ∗ 52﹕ sender  takes  a  [ bullet ]  meant  for  receiver . ( teehees )

                    𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒   that it’s coming as soon as he sees the man finger the trigger. another fool who’d tried his luck gambling with none other than twisted fate ― and lost a small fortune for his cockiness, to think he could get anything out of it. folks tend to get ANGRY when you empty their pockets like that, perhaps understandably, and the question of dishonesty gets thrown around quite a bit. another day, another dollar.

          the guy’s going on about cheating, pistol in his hand shaking with his rage, and destiny tightens in graves’ grip. tobias is standing closely behind him, purring something like easy there partner and that’s fine ― it won’t be the FIRST time graves takes a bullet for him, and definitely not the last. he’s been shot before and he’ll get shot again. the outlaw simply braces for it; sucks a breath around the cigar in his teeth and wonders whether or not it will scar. better me than you, partner.

          everything from then on is in slow motion. the man raises the gun, and pulls the trigger with a deafeningly familiar crack. tobias steps in front of him. tobias gets shot. the man ―

tobias steps in front of him. tobias get shot.

          graves can hear it, see it, ROARING to life in his skull like some long dead engine. through all that noise he somehow still has the clarity to raise destiny  ( the part of him not consumed by panic, anger, fear pats himself on the back for having the forethought to make sure she was loaded before they left the bar )  and fire two slugs directly into the bastard’s chest. a death sentence, heralded by an earthshattering boom and sickening wet CRUNCH that the entire city must hear. he has half a mind to give her a pump and do it again, but there’s just no time.

          he drops destiny  ( yes ― drops her. sorry, girl )  and scrambles to the ground after tobias, hauling him into his arms to lean him against the wall of the alleyway and CURSING all the while. the bullet was lodged in his shoulder ― not fatal, at least, not yet. his coat is torn, stained with the red seeping from the wound, and graves’ hands are already drenched. he hadn’t realized they were shaking.

          ❝  sweet  tommy  fuckin’  kench,  tobias,  you’re  an  IDIOT.  ❞   he barks, hoarsely, ripping a chunk of fabric from his serape to press to the wound and staunch the bleeding. he tilts tobias’ head towards him with his other hand, surprisingly tender, forcing eye contact so he doesn’t have to look at the consequences of his actions.

“     i  just  don’t  know  what  it  means     ...     and  i’m  not  entirely  convinced  anyone  else  does  either,     considering  i  haven’t  gotten  a  straight  answer.     ”

           ‘  Looks like you lose,  ‘  he hums pulls the small prize pile towards him before Camael can react.   ‘  You said you,   ah,   had the rest of the gold on you,  then?   How bout we see it?   ‘

        Camael,   tome held between two tensed hands,   offers a nervous smile in return.   ‘   Y  - yep!  Sure do!   Just,   erm,   one moment—   ‘   He feigns fumbling through the bag over his shoulder,  taking the opportunity to hiss to Grimm,   ‘  You said you could make sure we win!  ‘

        The books single eye wouldn’t meet his.   ‘  ... Perhaps my confidence was misplaced.  Ahem.  Page forty-seven should—   ‘   Even as he begins suggesting a means of escape,  Camael is already trying as subtly as he can to flip through the spellbook.   Just as someone starts reaching for it and suggesting that fancy book might serve as a substitute for the gold  he utters the right string of words to stir the page’s magic. 

        The resulting spell all but throws him several yards away in a small burst of light,  sending the young mage stumbling on his hands and knees.   For one precious moment he thinks he’s far enough away to avoid the problem,   but he hears curses being spat at him in the next and clambers to his feet to start running.   Navigating this deep into the alleyways of the city was hard enough earlier that day,   now it’s a maze of garbage and backdoors,  and Camael prays he won’t end his escape at one of the fenced-off passageways.   It’s fine,   though,   he just needs to be careful.   Wait for the spell’s cooldown to reset and—

     Slam into someone else as he’s running around a corner.   While he doesn’t have the size to knock the other man over,   Camael somehow ends up on his face again,   book thrown across the damp cobblestone.  

     The bounty hunter that Rell has chased here turns, and so do several of his cronies, just in time to shoot her looks of fear and recognition. A few of them scatter immediately at her explosive entrance, diving for cover or to make for the nearest exit, but the hunter himself turns away from the man that he’d been holding at gunpoint to raise his rifle to her.

     Not that it does him much good. The weapon comes up, and she raises a hand, yanking it from his hand and ripping the metal barrels into shrapnel before the man has the chance to pull the trigger. Then, she’s coming down on him, her horse coming apart into armor plates as she dives him, lance-first. 

     Rell’s weapon is not a piercing instrument, but that doesn’t matter much when you’re punching through leather with the force of a moving train. She drives it straight through the man’s ribcage, staking his body down into the floor below. 

     As the dust settles, Rell reaches up. She’d formed a helmet this time, just in case, and she tears the metal casing away from her head with one hand, as if she’s pulling apart paper. Then, she turns to face the stranger that the bounty hunter had been threatening. Incidental, but she must have knocked him down during her charge—or maybe he’d just been startled enough to trip, she hadn’t seen.

     She offers one gauntleted hand down to help him up, stating in a slightly more sheepish voice than one would probably have expected, ❝ ...uuuh, sorry if i spooked you. ❞

It would be a lie to say she wasn’t feeling completely out of her element in the port city. Emilia wasn’t on Elise’s good side after sending her here, that much was certain. On the contrary, she made a mental note of spilling some wine on the Deceiver’s favorite carpet upon her return to Noxus. Such thoughts were quickly swept aside, however, when she came upon a peculiar looking man. Elise would have been impressed with his looks, had they not been a tad too colorful for her tastes.

❝    Evening.    ❞    She purred, lips curling upwards at the corners, revealing a single pearl white fang in the dim lights.    ❝    I am looking for someplace with a little less filth laying around. Perhaps a tad cleaner air. You look as if you know your way around these parts. Perhaps you can be of help?    ❞

@fatedtwist​.

                    𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃   crossed in the windowsill, cigarette dangling betwixt fingers as he stares off into the distance, into nothing at all. it’s a clear night, though the beauty of such a thing is not what encompasses his thoughts. for as much as he tells tobias to get his head out of the clouds he certainly has his OWN stuck there now; the past rings uncertainly in his skull, as if he remembers it all differently each time the bell tolls. smoke billowing from lips, he wonders. and he wonders some more.

          ❝  tobias,  ❞   he murmurs despite himself, turning head to behold the man on the other side of the room. there is a MORBID sort of curiosity clouding in cornflower blues, but not of the innocent sort. if anything, his tone is somber as he taps the ash from his cigarette in the ash tray beside him.   ❝  the  night  that  i  …  found  ya  again.  after  i  got  outta  prison.  ❞   voice catches somewhat. malcolm is able to pick himself back up quickly enough.