she had remembered feeling the bullet rip through the tissue and muscles. however, her drive to survive and finish the job had affectively allowed her to ignore the pain, the blood, and the dizziness. that was efficiency. kill or die trying. after all - she was an thing to be thrown away.
she finished off the last assailant and turned, dropping the mans knife to the ground. anya stepped towards her trainee, brows furrowing as she asked the question : are you okay?
its as if it all became real in that instant. the blood she was losing suddenly obvious. her hand came upward to press into the wound - as if to make sure it was happening - and pulled away soaked in blood. the adrenaline began to wear off, and the tunnel vision settled in. instinct tells her to move towards the other, her other hand reaching out to take their forearm. as she made contact her legs buckled under her.
the widow dropped to the ground beneath the younger, skin paler than normal and eyes barely opened. she peers up at her through half slit lids and parted lips.
her breath was becoming more shallow by the minute. it had to have been an serious hit - point blank and somewhere dangerous. she could see the edges of her vision become fuzzy. - if there was something she knew, it was that her student was capable of saving an fellow widow. they were also capable of letting her die. anya couldn't decide which would be better in the end. perhaps dreykov would pull the trigger first?
still, the porcelain widow allowed desperation to take hold, and softly she spoke. " я доверяю тебе. . . "
