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half Iago, half Fu Manchu, all bastard
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
It all seemed a bit anticlimactic when the other boy just...walked away. If he'd been in a movie, Erik thought, there would have been some dramatic last stand. It was perfect. Him and Kimberly outlined in bright blood, facing off against a stronger enemy amidst the carnage lef behind. Oscar bait for sure. Starring roles. But the tension had gone out of the moment like air from a balloon, and there was just him. And Kimberly. Just partners, standing unsteadily together against...what?

Who knew.

He gave her a shaky smile, one hand splayed firmly against the torn place where blood leaked sluggishly between his fingers. It wasn't all bravado -- the warmth of shock and adrenaline in his veins helped enough that he didn't feel particularly panicked. That would come later. Later he would think about blood and bullets and knives and two dead people at his feet where there had been two live ones earlier. Later he could scream and cry and break down but in the here and now there were things to do and people depending on each other and he was one of them, so.

"I'm okay," he said. And meant it. "It's not so bad. I think it just winged me. Week and a bit on this stupid island and -- first one to get me wasn't even aiming, it's just," he choked on a nervous laugh, "um, funny. I guess."

Besides, he knew how this went. He'd seen the movies. He was supposed to be the one tending her. "Are you?"

marc st. yves

light it up or burn it down we'll all die in fire

lydia hausen

if you don't look down you don't have to fall

sebastian conway

everything will be okay in the end

(so you've got to keep in mind, when you try to change the world for the better not everybody's gonna be on your side)
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Burn On · The Mountain