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FT. @eightholyterrors
BASED ON LAST BULLET.
EIGHT YEARS. Far too many months, long hours... several minutes. He had been gone. One night, no word, no telltale of scheme he had elaborated for a while apparently. Tears had been shed, far many to be reminisced a precise amount. He had been loved, had been adored... revered even. But then, he had been gone, and she left without some other to tell her mischieves to, no other she could sneak into bed with while the rest were fast asleep, soundly on their beds. Unaware of how close they were, how she had clung to him through stormy nights. It shouldn’t have been allowed, an eight year old slumbering with a grown young man as he. He had been gone for the worst of times. Poverty, abuse, brutalize. It was at fourteen she had been sold to a man, paying favours with flesh... bruised, battered, broken. But she lived... she has made it through. And not at favour of her ought to be protector. Her sweet, sweet brother who she had loved far much.
Gaze meets his as he saunters into the club she works at, her dress accents her silhouette, a woman she is now, wondering whether she will be recognized by him. Louisana awaits for him to approach, as she is perched on a stool by the bar, it is not suitable for a young woman as herself to be there, but ever known to many, she is no longer noble, no longer pure... but tainted, used and sought for nights by a fair price. Fiery haired patently sits there, smiling at how it must look like, her not once deviating hues from his form. Not even once. “Hello brother... it’s been a long while... eight years to be precise... alive I see”.