“I believed in you.”

HE doesn’t move.

“I trusted you.”

SHE steps closer.

“Now you face me with my own weapon. What went wrong?”

A sigh escapes HIM.

A hand touches HIS shoulder; HIS eyes slide shut. The accent flows over HIM like water.

“How did everything become so very wrong?”

HE tries to ignore the voice as another hand grips HIM.

Breath on HIS throat. HE can smell HER, clean, sharp.

Lips on skin. Air leaves HIM in a rush.

HER mouth insistent along HIS jaw, holding HIM in place.

The past sword flashes silver before hitting the ground.


[700x175]