Midpoint Pre-Game

[shadowsran]

(Continued/deviated from here.)

The silhouette, the tensed mass of A Person, Without Specificity, stills her at the doorway by itself. Easier to tense than venture back already, and clearly moving forward would be unwise. The glint off the barrel pointed her way justifies that line of thought; in fact, perhaps no broad movements at all quite yet.

His lantern isn't in her immediate view, but she doesn't need that highly identifiable object dangled in front of her to recognize the obvious when it's right in front of her. The impossible. Because everything-- because he'd--

"Soldat?" She manages, hardly louder than a sigh. It takes all the air she has left. She'll wait, counting her own heartbeats, eyes darting from menacing barrel to familiar, sorely welcome face under furrowed brows.

It can't be.

Comments

[worthallthis]

The gun doesn't waver yet, but their voice does, when they counter her use of their name-- that name, the chosen name-- that they haven't heard in years now-- with her own: "Misty?"

It'll come down when she's confirmed they're not hallucinating. That this isn't some new cruel joke played by the game makers.

... even if she's real, it's still a cruel joke played by the game makers.