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Entry tags:
- [comm] lastvoyages,
- bond your life,
- but loving her was red,
- do not ever follow this man's example,
- his life is awesome,
- i typoed terrible sorry,
- losing her was blue like i'd never known,
- m : bitch,
- missing her was dark gray all alone,
- prepare for the healthiest coping,
- take the bloody shot,
- too proud to beg,
- ugh the worst,
- vesper you rly should have expected this
♠ | 011 | Video
[Take the shot.
Don't you dare, he'd thought, struggling to find an upperhand in his fight. He dodged a kick, blocked a punch, couldn't spare the breath to tell M he had this.
I can't, I may hit Bond! He can hear the girl - not even sure of her name - and her reluctance, and there's a hand around his throat, but he wants to say let me finish it - instead he kicks hard at the man's thigh, slams an elbow down on his arm, sucks in air--
Take the bloody shot!
He struggles, doesn't have the time to turn but it doesn't matter, he's not even certain where she is--
The bullet hits him with more force than the train they'd been riding on top of. He loses consciousness ten seconds after impact, just long enough to feel that first rush of freefall as he's shot off the train. He doesn't know how long the fall is; a hundred feet, two? It doesn't matter, but for a few blissful seconds, he's unconscious, and there's no pain.
He comes to as he hits the water, and wishes he hadn't. His whole body is on fire, his lungs burn, but as the rushing water helps him rise up into the air, he still feels like he can't breathe. Can't move. Dead already.
He hears the waterfall before he sees it, and he knows he's drifting in an out of consciousness; he just can't find the energy to care. His feet go over first, and he's in freefall for the second time in less than ten minutes. He hits the water back first, and all the air leaves his lungs. He thinks someone is pulling him down, down, and he wants to reach out to her, touch her, he's so glad she's here to meet him--
When the video clicks on, it's an accident; left sitting on a the table Bond uses to drag himself up, it starts broadcasting as he lifts himself up. It's hard to see through the rush of water that drops on it; he's still soaked. And then something darker drops into frame, thicker and nearly black, and when he pushes the communicator out of the way, blood smears over the camera. It stays there as he stumbles out of sight, recording the ceiling, the blood, and the sounds of a man unwilling to call for help.]
Don't you dare, he'd thought, struggling to find an upperhand in his fight. He dodged a kick, blocked a punch, couldn't spare the breath to tell M he had this.
I can't, I may hit Bond! He can hear the girl - not even sure of her name - and her reluctance, and there's a hand around his throat, but he wants to say let me finish it - instead he kicks hard at the man's thigh, slams an elbow down on his arm, sucks in air--
Take the bloody shot!
He struggles, doesn't have the time to turn but it doesn't matter, he's not even certain where she is--
The bullet hits him with more force than the train they'd been riding on top of. He loses consciousness ten seconds after impact, just long enough to feel that first rush of freefall as he's shot off the train. He doesn't know how long the fall is; a hundred feet, two? It doesn't matter, but for a few blissful seconds, he's unconscious, and there's no pain.
He comes to as he hits the water, and wishes he hadn't. His whole body is on fire, his lungs burn, but as the rushing water helps him rise up into the air, he still feels like he can't breathe. Can't move. Dead already.
He hears the waterfall before he sees it, and he knows he's drifting in an out of consciousness; he just can't find the energy to care. His feet go over first, and he's in freefall for the second time in less than ten minutes. He hits the water back first, and all the air leaves his lungs. He thinks someone is pulling him down, down, and he wants to reach out to her, touch her, he's so glad she's here to meet him--
When the video clicks on, it's an accident; left sitting on a the table Bond uses to drag himself up, it starts broadcasting as he lifts himself up. It's hard to see through the rush of water that drops on it; he's still soaked. And then something darker drops into frame, thicker and nearly black, and when he pushes the communicator out of the way, blood smears over the camera. It stays there as he stumbles out of sight, recording the ceiling, the blood, and the sounds of a man unwilling to call for help.]