originallutece: bread makes you fat (shock; reeling from the revelation)
Rosalind Lutece ([personal profile] originallutece) wrote in [community profile] nysalogs 2018-03-03 09:03 pm (UTC)

[She jerks her head in a nod, her cheeks pale but her expression determined. Yes, she's ready. Her stomach pitches, because she really doesn't like this kind of thing, and it'd be a lie to say there's not a thrill of fear within her, but she ignores it. This is what they have to do, so there's no sense in being a child about it.

She releases his wrist. Surely this will be easier if they're both running unhindered? It seems to make sense, and she takes a step forward. She's aware enough to count down on her fingers, at least: three . . . two . . . one--

And then bolting, and thank god she'd worn her boots today, because that's so much easier than heels, and her arm hurts and so she bites her lip to stop herself from making a noise. She can't stop the sound of her feet hitting the pavement, but there's nothing for it, and the alley isn't so far--

She feels as though they're obvious. She feels as though there's going to be a shout at any second, a cry of anger, the feeling of a bolt hitting midback, piercing her, killing her, and she can't die again, she can't--

And yet somehow, it works. Somehow, she reaches the alley's mouth within a minute, panting sharply in both fear and exertion, her eyes wide. She shoves her hand over her mouth, biting on her finger to stop herself from making a noise, because she won't give them away at the very last stretch.]

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