His approach to join her at the fire was loose, easy; predator’s muscles relaxed and liquid in the presence of a kindred spirit. Sevrin had always felt there was an undeniable tone of fellowship, of sorts, among murderers. It was an ultimately insignificant detail (as it wasn’t a factor that’d be cause for hesitation if it came down to another kill), but a tangible one nonetheless. No matter their reasoning, their moralities (or lack thereof), one did not take a life, watch their victim’s eyes dull and taste the notes of their blood in the air, without something in them changing - something in their frequency that he’d become attuned to over his long career of making people die.
“Blood IS the new black these days, you know,” he responded, perhaps more thoughtfully than was intended, taking her comment as a sort of invitation for a lounging once over down his companion’s chosen wardrobe. “And it does bring out that lethal little sparkle in your eyes, too.”
Sitting adjacent from her, he took the meal Eva offered with a short, upward nod in thanks. The soup was thin, far from gourmet even by apocalypse standards, but it was hot and the miles he had ahead of him would appreciate the calories no matter how they came.
At the mention of the bag, his lips twitched upwards into another grin, brows lifting in amusement at the comparison. “That bag’s worth a life’s supply of your shit soup. Besides, I don’t imagine think you’d have any use for it, anyway. Hell, the dumb bitched who hired me for it doesn’t even have a use for it,” he corrected, with a roll of his eyes. “Girls, am I right?”
A pause then, a curious gleam brightening his gaze before he reached back, grabbed the cord that kept the contents secure, and tossed the bag within her reach. “Want to see what half a damn pharmacy looks like?”
The soup warmed her hands even as the chill shaped around them, the fire doing the rest of the work on keeping warm bodies warm. His comment was well thought out for the one she’d thrown out, and Eva offered him a cocked brow in appraisal. Well of course, a seasoned look was nothing without some focal point to make it pop-- -the ‘lethal little sparkle,’ was it? Tilting her head with the accompanied edge of a smirk that knew all too well the things her hands knew to do, she spoke. “Let’s not get it twisted-- -that’s the blades.”
And yes, you’d think it was fondness cutting into her tone. Muse was as muse did, and Eva was but a muse for the blades and the crimson symphonies they culled. She was picky, sure, but Eva had plenty of love to give no matter the size and shape of the blade. Her arsenal was bigger than most, though she carried only parts of it when she was on the move like this.
Tongue silent as it laved over the soup she had swallowed, Eva offered him a huff bemused for his hire’s whims, but curiosity brought her gaze over from her food to him, and then eventually to the sack in question. Placing her bowl down in favor of the bag, Eva tugged it over. The moving insides gave birth to a few guesses, and tugging the cord open only revealed the worst of it into reality.
( In an ideal world, the dead deserved burials. Metaphorically speaking of course, the act didn’t have to be a burial. Burials, cremation-- -less formal than it once was, now just burning the body would do- --and the sort. Not funerals, those were bullshit; there was no point in digging a grave and then taking the time to cry over it. But the dead deserved respect, because if death had no worth, than life had no cost.
Then again, not every dead deserved the respect, and the living weren’t saints and were hypocrites to top it off-- -took one to know one. )
A noise of affirmation dislodging from her throat, she peered in as if to wander her gaze over the extent of the request-- -and then straightened to rope the cord back into the sack. “Sentimental.” Eva commented, her expression otherwise regimented with years of practice in seeing dead things that were once dying people. “It’ll get her killed.” The hire, that is. She knew hers would do the same to her someday, but Eva was better at hiding the fact behind her blood-soaked weapons.
Tossing the bag back over to him, Eva caught his gaze and held it as her chin rose up in a nod of question. “You planning on going into the medical supplies business, then?” Light jest shaped on a sharp tongue that never really left the way Eva spilled her words added to the lilt of her following words, though the question was serious enough. Passing along the title, she’d call it. He could do the dirty work if it meant Eva didn’t have to make the trek. HQ was low staffed these days ( most days ), and their reputation was only good at keeping them safe in lulls. Everyone was a killer now, but the medics still needed someone making sure the base was safe from raiders or people looking for trouble. “Deadliest mercenary becomes…dealer. Doesn’t have the same ring to it, but I could use one if you’re thinking on it.”
vaporwave
amandla
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
blakekathryn
dailybridgerton
yousharknotpass
