#withstvnd

          It’s  just  a  cut  on  his  arm,  a  gash  when  he  ran  into  a  tree.  Maybe  he  should’ve  been  looking  where  he  was  going  but,  while  running  after  Mika  deep  in  the  woods  right  outside  of  Alexandria,  his  mind  wasn’t  exactly  on  looking  where  he  was  going.  His  head  whipped  around  to  look  behind  him,  seeing  if  the  buck  they  had  bothered  was  still  chasing  them.  That’s  when  he  felt  the  full  force  of  the  tree  bark  against  his  face.  When  he  fell,  a  tree  branch  cut  his  arm.  At  least  the  buck  wasn’t  chasing  them  anymore. 

He  feels  Mika  by  his  side,  helping  him  up.    ❝    Ow,  fuck.    ❞    he  mumbles,  rubbing  some  off  bark  off  his  face.    ❝    What  are  you––  Hey!  Stop  that  hurts!  Quit  touching i t!    ❞    Mika  had  pulled  out  a  cloth,  pressing  on  the  cut  on  his  arm. 

Out  of  frustration,  she  pulls  the  cloth  away.    ❝    I  can’t  help  you  if  you  don’t  let  me!    ❞    She  squeaks,  trying  to  put  the  cloth  back  to  stop  the  bleeding  of  his  arm. 

❝    I  wouldn’t  have  needed  your  help  if  we  didn’t  come  out  here  in  the  first  place.    ❞    Lucas  says,  moving  away  from  her  cloth.  There’s  an  attempt  for  him  to  stand  up  but  she  pushed  him  back  down.    ❝    Come  on,  stop.  I’m  fine.    ❞

❝    I  wouldn’t  have  to  do  this  if  you  didn’t  piss  off  that  buck!    ❞ 

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♦ | slow dancing

The music is soft enough, taking her hand is easy. Corvo has no gun and she has no self-defense in her eyes and he thinks, once, that if the DUP wants to catch these Bio-terrorists and teach them the way best to handle their powers, then the first step might be to treat them like people.

Her fingers are strong, each digit folding over his palm slowly like she is measuring each action. There’s thought put into this, but they’ve created an alliance, a kind of truce, and it is a friendly one by now. Shared food, shared stories — they all balance out eventually. And if Corvo is keen to practice what he has not done in years, well — she doesn’t seem to balk. If anything, she seems very sure of herself.

It’s a good truce.

They step in time with the song, a sway and slide of bare feet on carpet that is surprisingly in rhythm with not only the music, but each other. Fighting, strategizing, escaping — it is all similar to a dance anyhow, and Corvo does not think to ask her where, how she learned; but he does smile slightly, a half-curve of a thing on his otherwise focused expression.

A dreamy haze of neon smoke blankets the dance floor, glittering with the flashing glow of strobe lights. The atmosphere smells bittersweet and soft, almost velvety - it's a crowded room, full of gyrating bodies and the scent of sweat and the impossibly loud thrum of music. This isn't the first time Delsin has been to the club, in fact he's been a DJ here before, and it had been a haunt of his since moving to the city.

Standing off to the side, the deranged conduit watches the floor like a predator, his inner beast taking note of everyone and everything. Then he picks his prey, and the change is instantaneous; stalking forward, he drifts close to the person in rhythm to the music, brushing his hands against their arms and eyes meeting theirs, a smile painting his features.

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