#thirdhat

     ❝ don’t move. ❞

     her pointer finger dances along the trigger as her eyes size    him up, judging whether he’s a threat. in any other world, she    would greet him with a smile and a ‘hello’; the epitome of friendly    rather than cautious. but with in a world where 90% of everything    she encounters try to kill her, she can’t take that chance. 

      “You really should be more careful if you plan on breaking into someone’s home.” Small frame leaned against counter top, .32 pistol clasped comfortably in hand, Euphemia didn’t seem afraid in the slightest. It was hard to be scared, even when lacking almost all of her vision, when her foe was stuck hanging upside down by his ankles. Rope traps were rather handy, although Euphy did feel for the poor man. He was just a smidge too big for it, scalp dragging against the wooden floor of the building she called home.

E.E. CUMMINGS SENTENCE STARTERS. | send one to seven.

       ❛  ha. i think that might be easier for you t’do than it is for me.  ❜  a laugh of solidarity, arms folding across her chest. her gun feels heavy on her back, like a guilty burden, a reminder of what could’ve been if she hadn’t been at home when it happened. she counts herself lucky ( how she even survived, she doesn’t know ), like an ace of spades -- the card of death, but highest in the deck. her skin crawls, & she feels like she’s going to burst. she can’t go back there again.