She was sweet like honey
But all I can taste is the blood in my mouth
But all I can taste is the blood in my mouth
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
"Fuck!"
The explicative snarls through the gunsmoke left behind by Savera's shots, hurtled viciously into the empty training ground. Three shots, three hits, but none where they're meant, and the non-fatally-wounded dummy seem to jeer back at her mistake. Black holes spot its shoulder and both legs, pointedly not the head or heart. Rocking back on her heels, Savera glares at the mannequin, as though it were responsible for her poor performance today, not the unsteadiness of her hands.
The soldier stalks forward with a scowl, replacing the paper in a practiced move. She's wearing training attire, a dark red jacket over sleek black pants, hair pulled back in its usual spiked braid, a stormcloud of irritation practically visible above her head. Once the track is reset and her earmuffs back on, she braces herself to shoot again: breathe in, breathe out, one, two--
Bangbangbangbangbang!
This time all five shots land true, a perfect circle torn through the target's skull. Savera's glower is replaced by a feral grin; "Gotcha," she whispers under her breath, bronze eyes gleaming in the afternoon light.
Bang!
Bang!
"Fuck!"
The explicative snarls through the gunsmoke left behind by Savera's shots, hurtled viciously into the empty training ground. Three shots, three hits, but none where they're meant, and the non-fatally-wounded dummy seem to jeer back at her mistake. Black holes spot its shoulder and both legs, pointedly not the head or heart. Rocking back on her heels, Savera glares at the mannequin, as though it were responsible for her poor performance today, not the unsteadiness of her hands.
The soldier stalks forward with a scowl, replacing the paper in a practiced move. She's wearing training attire, a dark red jacket over sleek black pants, hair pulled back in its usual spiked braid, a stormcloud of irritation practically visible above her head. Once the track is reset and her earmuffs back on, she braces herself to shoot again: breathe in, breathe out, one, two--
Bangbangbangbangbang!
This time all five shots land true, a perfect circle torn through the target's skull. Savera's glower is replaced by a feral grin; "Gotcha," she whispers under her breath, bronze eyes gleaming in the afternoon light.
Savera
