#infideliter

               "-- See, I really don't like being crept up on"

     { Her gun is raised, and Emily is incredibly stiff. Strange, because she's never exactly like this around people. Eyes become heavily lidded as she sizes them up, and hands are tightening around the trigger of her trusted musket }

                       S h e w o u l d p u l l  i f s h e h a d t o.

With a tilt of his head, the Londoner brows knitted in confusion. More? Thinking that he had gotten away from the crowds, it felt as if they were coming in by the boatloads.  

                                                                              [ what makes you think i need you now? ]

         the stone struck once, twice, three times across the dulled edge of the dagger, each movement growing louder with the scrape as he grew violent. he could feel her eyes on him; hot and brows furrowed, like a blue fire, and he did not stop.

                                                                                                                                      [ but i do. ]

                                                                scrape.

         he lied and swore and stole from her but she still invited him, she still rested a gentle hand on his like his sins were forgiven.

                                                                                                                       [ but they weren't. ]

                                                                scrape.

         everything before was dust and dirt and the stench of iron on thin steel, rough fingers and guilt. the unmistakable, unforgettable noise of jeering laughter and swears yelled at the top of lungs played in the midst of city streets, the noise of pleas overpowering voices of children. the smell, the taste, the feeling repeated like a swarm of angry flies above his shoulder, a confused mess of noise--

                                                                                                                                    [ kiss me. ]

         in a single stroke the blade caught on his hand and ripped tender flesh down to the wrist, and tumbled to the floor with a clatter so loud he leapt up, the stone following with a dull thump! as it rolled to her feet, bloodied and warm; and nary a word was spoken as she held his arm, dripping with crimson, and bandaged it with a scarf.