bryce-edwards:
Limit reached. Fine, he thought to himself. She’d followed instructions and shot until she couldn’t anymore, taken down a fine number of them, too. He could still see that dependence in her, past those eerie white eyes, but so be it. Maybe it was the same with him all those years ago.
In any case, now wasn’t the time to deliberate over it. Bryce sighed low in the back of his throat and stepped forward, pulling his rifle strap onto his shoulder and unsheathing the knife from his hip instead. That was quite enough gunfire. Admittedly, if the others had heard, there would have to be some explaining about it. But their shift wasn’t over yet, far from it. If anything else wanted to step to them, it would be over again come morning.
“Stand up straight. You did your job,” Bryce scolded Naomi as he passed. In less than five seconds, his blade found the brain of one of the remaining revenants. From there he just went down the line, utilizing the natural space they’d given each other or pushing their bodies in a way that beat them back, had them reeling when his knife plunged into their skulls.
When every last revenant within eyesight was dead, Bryce took a deep breath, held it in, and listened, trying to determine if there was anything else around that required their immediate attention. Satisfied with the silence, he turned back to his small companion, sheathing his knife and wiping his hands off on his jeans, pulling the gloves out from his back pocket.
“How are you feeling?”
If Naomi stands straighter at his scolding, it doesn’t last for long, her eyes watching every move the hunter made. He’s flawless, compared to the sloppy kills she made, putting down each revenant before it gets the chance to do anything but snarl. Though every skill is made with a knife, it’s far faster than the shots she’d taken and for a moment, Naomi feels like she hadn’t done any job at all.
Bryce finishes cleaning up before she knows it and slowly, she holsters her empty gun, noticing now that her hands are trembling something awful. The nausea gifted by the revenants fade as the last one dies and eventually, the white in her eyes begins to break like a blue sky shining through the clouds.
There’s an urge to run forward and take her comfort where she can find it, take her place back in his shadow so she could collect herself in peace. But she knows better than to expect that from Bryce. People weren’t missing this time. There’d be no hand atop her head, no comforting gesture that this was all he needed from her again.
And it’s not until he asks how she’s feeling that Naomi realises that she’s doing anything but. There’s no remorse for the fallen dead, no guilt, no relief that it’s over and the people that once were are finally at peace.
Naomi stands there with a frown, looking down to the bodies at her feet, then back at the dead creature behind her. Surrounded by red again and yet, unaffected this time.
“I’m... fine?” she mumbles with uncertainty.
