the alley shimmers under a sickly orange sunset glow and the bricks of adjacent buildings bend at the edges of their perception. shadows stretch like smoke and curl into hissing, taunting shapes all around them, and the faint smell of rain mixes with something sharper. every surface hums with a quiet tension, and the air feels thick, almost liquid, pressing against her skin. rose’s gaze flicks to the edges of the twisting shadows and almost instinctively, she takes a step so she's back to back with orla. ' you're right, ' she replies coolly, her voice steady against the tension. the pulse of the city below their feet is slow and deliberate as though the streets themselves are holding their breath in anticipation. ' we need to run or we need to fight-- your choice. ' @rosaedolor from here
your choice. like any of this has ever been her choice. orla doesn't know if she's ever had a real choice in anything since she was fourteen. even this : she'd never wanted to come back. it was all supposed to be over. but here they are, out again, shadows twisting dangerously in their peripherals as the air stings their cheek. they cast a glance towards rose when she moves, and watch as the dying sunlight droops across her expression, dimmer than it was only a minute ago. her stomach twists.
there's only one real thing to do, though — again, it's not really a choice, is it? their fingers curl into fists at their sides, the burn of their ring against their skin almost achingly familiar. ❛ well, ❜ she starts, rolling her shoulder, ❛ we can't just leave it. someone's gotta do something. ❜
