we're dangerous people | { uly / myr } blitz
Sept 20, 2017 2:17:43 GMT -5
Post by gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan on Sept 20, 2017 2:17:43 GMT -5
myrcella hudson |
as long as you love me
this could get ugly
yeah, baby trust me
but it's fucking good
Nock, inhale on the draw back, aim, fire.
Golden tips from a golden girl.
She stared at her progress: smiley face of arrows plunging into a target she'd made herself out of a bed sheet and a hay bale. A girl has to get creative when practicing for the big show, she had thought, especially when it is illegal. But that wasn't really the case with her anymore, was it?
She glanced up at the clock on the nearest wall of the warehouse, cursing. She was supposed to be getting her make-up finished about right now. She sat her bow down and raced upstairs, dumping the contents of a plastic container out in front of her. Suddenly, her heart felt like lead, pressing against her rib cage and making it harder for her to breathe.
I'm actually doing this, she realized with a start. They'd tried recruiting her time and time again, and she had told them the same thing: I'm no good at acting. It was a lie, of course. Not a damn person involved in Operation Olympus was a bad liar; it was what made them right for the job. And when she had finally run out of excuses, Ezri had come knocking on her apartment door for morning tea, smiling that gorgeous smile at Myrcella. She knew already that she couldn't say no anymore, so she made a bargain that she would do it when her brother was free to do the scouting.
"Where is Uly?" she snapped to herself. She shouldn't have been surprised. Ulysses was the exact type of person to show up late, even in serious situations like this. She'd studied the case file for a month— Slade Kinsey. Eighteen years old. Heir to the new vineyards that had been sprouting up across the district, which she assumed were worth a lot of money. Otherwise, why bother?
Finally, as she put on the finishing touches of her mascara, she heard the door open. She swung around, furious eyes meeting Uly's.
"You're late!" she growled, turning back to her reflection in the mirror, "And, as a result, I have all but talked myself out of doing this, so you owe me some kind of pep talk or something."
