Guts @Guts_21 - Twitter Profile

Vayne takes you on a hunt. you don't know why. she doesn't take anyone. she says stay behind me. don't speak unless i speak first. don't make a sound when we move. you say yes. she looks at you for a second longer than usual. "if i tell you to run, you run. you don't look back for me. are we clear" you say yes. she doesn't answer. she just turns and walks out the door. you follow her through the city streets. she moves different when she's working. shoulders lower. steps shorter. her head doesn't turn but her eyes do. you can feel her cataloguing everything. the man smoking outside the tavern. the cat under the cart. the second floor window with the curtain half drawn. she leads you through an alley you didn't know existed. stops at a brick wall. then she climbs. there are handholds carved into the mortar that you wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't used them first. she's halfway up before she realizes you're still at the bottom. she looks down at you. "up" you climb. your hands are shaking by the time you reach the top. the roof is flat. old clay tiles along the edges. a low wall you can crouch behind. the city stretches out below you in every direction. a thousand windows glowing gold in the dusk. she's already at the far side. crouched. crossbow unslung. watching a building across the square. she doesn't look at you when you come up beside her. "stay low" you crouch. "that building. third floor. second window from the left" you look. "i see it" he'll come to that window sometime tonight. i've watched him do it for three nights. i want to know who he meets you ask who he is. her jaw tightens. "a demon pretending to be a man" you don't ask what that means. you settle in beside her. the wind is up here. it pulls at her hair and she doesn't bother fixing it. the sun is going down behind her. her profile in the gold light looks like something carved. her hands on the crossbow are steady. completely still. you've never seen anyone be this still. an hour passes. she doesn't move. you try not to move. your leg falls asleep. you shift an inch. she looks at you. you go completely still again. she looks back at the window. another hour. the sun is gone. the city is blue and black. lamps are lighting up one by one. the air is getting cold. you're shivering before you realize you're shivering. she notices. she doesn't say anything. then she takes off her cloak. doesn't look at you. holds it out to the side. "take it" you say "you'll be cold" "i don't get cold. take it" you take it. it's warm from her. it smells like leather and steel and something underneath. pine. smoke. something you can't name. you put it around your shoulders. the hem pools on the tile. it's huge on you. it's not huge on her. you hadn't realized how tall she is until you were wearing her cloak. she doesn't look at you for the next ten minutes. the stars come out. she shifts closer to you. just a little. so her shoulder is almost touching yours. you don't say anything about it. she doesn't either. you can feel the heat coming off her even through the cloak. another hour. still nothing at the window. she says "tell me something" you blink. "what" "anything. i need to stay sharp. talking keeps me sharp. not about the target. something else" you didn't expect that. you tell her about a book you've been reading. she listens. actually listens. her eyes never leave the window but you can tell she's hearing every word. she asks one question. you answer. she goes quiet again. you keep talking. quieter now. she interrupts you. "shh" she's not looking at the window anymore. she's looking at the roof two buildings over. you don't see anything. you don't see anything for a long time. then you do. a shadow that moves the wrong way. her hand finds yours. she doesn't look at you when she does it. her eyes don't leave the shadow. her fingers lace through yours and LOCK. tight. too tight. knuckles going white around your hand. "don't move" she breathes. you don't move. you can feel every ounce of her focus through her grip. it's not a lover's hold. it's a predator's. every muscle in her hand coiled. ready to drop yours the instant she needs the crossbow. she's not holding you for you. she's holding you to keep track of where you are without having to look. it should scare you. it doesn't. there is something about being held that tight by someone that dangerous that makes the rest of the world go quiet. your heartbeat slows. your breathing slows. the cold stops mattering. you are not the one hunting but you are with the one who is. and nothing is going to get through her to reach you. the shadow crosses the roof and disappears into a stairwell. she watches the spot it left for another full minute. her hand is still locked around yours. she doesn't loosen it. you don't want her to. finally she lets out a breath you didn't know she was holding. "not him. but someone who works for him" her grip eases. slowly. finger by finger. like she's having to consciously tell each one to let go. the last one is her thumb. it stays against your palm for half a second longer than the rest. then she takes her hand back. the cold rushes in where she was. she glances at you. just for a second. then she looks back at the window. the rest of the night she's quieter than before. the target never shows. when the sky starts turning grey she stands up. stretches. rolls her shoulders. looks out over the city one last time. "we're done" you stand too. your legs don't work right. she catches your elbow without looking. "careful" she keeps her hand there until you're steady. then she takes it away. you start to hand her cloak back. she says "keep it for the climb down" she goes first. you follow. the handholds are easier going down once you know where they are. when you're both on the ground she turns to take the cloak. you hand it to her. her fingers brush yours. she doesn't pull back as fast as she usually does. she puts the cloak back on. it's warm now. from you. she has to notice. she doesn't say anything about it. she walks you home. at your door she stops. "don't tell anyone what you saw tonight" you say "i didn't see much" she looks at you. her eyes in the lamplight. the edge of her mouth. almost softer than it should be. "you saw enough" then she turns and walks back into the dark. you close the door. your hand still feels cold where hers was. you can still smell pine on your shirt. you don't sleep. Study the Saskio way