notpetals:
Just temporarily he has forgotten where he is. The heart of the City, a thriving landscape of squabbling people who had only just settled back into normalcy, sounds of construction echoing past voices. Someone had brushed just too close to him. No thought was pushed towards it until the whispers scream in his ears, the shadow flinches and claps his hands over them, eyes flicking down to where Thorn was supposed to be.
Very few things garnered such a response from the terrible dark and being separated from his weapon of Sorrow was one of them. It is gone but beckons to him like a flame does a moth. Arc crackles at his feet when Dredgen starts towards the accused. Rage drips as a venom in each movement, pushing people out of the way without a second look, making a beeline after the small form weaving between others.
Just as they think they’ve lost him by dipping between buildings, the shadow is upon them. An offer is made to return that which they pilfered but the shadow has no patience for thieves (he is a hypocrite considering all the lives he has stolen). The meek smile is wiped away when Yor sends a jolt of Arc Light from his hand, through the air, and into the thief’s form. Both them and the weapon fall to the ground but life has not yet been claimed.
Leaning over to retrieve his corrupt Rose the words are faintly registered, ‘Guardians aren’t supposed to hurt people like me, you will regret that.’ Curling fingers around the grip Yor stands straight and offers no shred of amusement towards the statement. Instead of toying with the pickpocket he raises the weapon to horrified eyes and pulls the trigger. A crack resounds, body falls back, and he breathes out the relief of a kill.
“I know you heard that shot.” Liza ever the voice of Light spoke to her ear, hovering between shoulder and dark tresses. “You should investigate. Someone could be in trouble.”
Beatrice scrunched her nose. An emissary of the light as all guardians were, though a reluctant one, she would have vastly preferred to leave shots to the dark they sprang from. There was work to be done. Rumors of a bunker recently excavated (a lucky break in a dreg as nosey as she was passing on the information). Pre-golden age and ripe with information… and maybe parts for her workstation.
Liza made a high pitched mechanical sound. The precursor to what she’d do for hours if not days when she didn’t get her way. Beatrice sighed, waving away her ghost.
“Fine, FINE I’ll check it out. Go ahead home and start putting out feelers for a fire team. People who don’t mind – ”
“I know the routine.”
Weight shifted to the balls of her feet, Beatrice followed the echo of the shot. She was unarmed, little cause for her sidearm in the Last City and less still for death being a brief interval at most. Still there was a feeling of dread in her stomach. Not unlike the moment the Traveler went dark and Liza fell to the ground at her feet.
A body on the ground. Bloody and still. Beatrice reached for her light or rather the void of it. A step to the side of all things bright. A quiet and still place.
“They don’t get up if you kill them.” She spoke easily, purposely so. “Though I’m suspecting you knew that Stranger.”
