watching her, jesper’s… reminded, in an odd way, about the first time he had held a gun. their ma had worked them up from a child’s pellet gun to pistols, and then from pistols to rifles. she had positioned herself behind him, wrapped her sun - warmed hands over his tinier ones and had been there when the kick of the rifle had propelled him back. she had to be a few years younger than him, at least, and much, much, much, smaller than him. ( part of jesper always worried for people that young, around the barrel. he had only been maybe a few years older when he first came to it, but still. )
at least he could hope on this protecting her, if there’s a chance.
jesper breaks out in a sharp burst of laughter that surprises even him. “ i happen to be one of a kind, ” they say. “ sure, i tend to swing towards the deadly, but i try to keep my hands from getting too dirty when there’s no need for it. ” now, jesper raises their eyes to the sign, searching for a bullet hole. he finds none, but he finds the scrape in the bricks a few feet away from it that marks a bullet.
“ oh, look at that! you got a bit closer. how’d that feel? ”
annika lowered the gun towards the ground, feeling the thrum of its power... weakness was deadly. she has seen power in its truest form, an aching triumph of savageness reclaiming the darkness, and she has longed for it ever since: she had loved that power. she had hated that it would never be her own. the gun was a poor facsimile of that outrageous strength, but it was better than relying on her body. that had always proven to be a traitor. she is not as good as jesper -- rumours are quick to fly in the barrel, quicker even than fists, and she has heard of his prowess. able to shoot straight from miles away, they said. he could shoot the gum from out of your mouth without touching your teeth. most of it was no doubt deluded fancy, but every rumour came with a touch of truth. she gripped her hand more tightly around the barrel.
‘ a little better. it’s more comfortable against the shoulder. ’ she should not hate herself for her ineptitude -- she has only shot this weapon twice. but frustration is an obvious flicker across her features, shown in the tightening of her brow and the grinding of her teeth. ‘ people die every day around here. i don’t know why more people don’t carry a gun on them -- you could earn a lot of money, teaching people. ’
