[ Everything is likely from a certain perspective. From the consummate cynic's vantage, everything is a mistake waiting to be made; so it is, too, for an operative of their kind, to assume the same paranoia, though this is given by the knowledge that death comes for them all for the smallest of errors, and that death is not merciful towards such faults.
Illya counts his breathing. One. Two. A pause to let the blood rush settle in his veins, ill-advised as that might be. A faint cold seeps in, and it calms him a little. Calm is always good, after all. Illya was born under the watchful eye of an angry fire; the cold will ease the burn of it on his soul.
(Don't let it pass from a man's lips, that the Russian man has no poesy carved in his bones.) ]
Walk now, Cowboy.
[ There's a siren wailing in the distance, headed towards them. Too quickly for the rounds fired. ]
no subject
[ Everything is likely from a certain perspective. From the consummate cynic's vantage, everything is a mistake waiting to be made; so it is, too, for an operative of their kind, to assume the same paranoia, though this is given by the knowledge that death comes for them all for the smallest of errors, and that death is not merciful towards such faults.
Illya counts his breathing. One. Two. A pause to let the blood rush settle in his veins, ill-advised as that might be. A faint cold seeps in, and it calms him a little. Calm is always good, after all. Illya was born under the watchful eye of an angry fire; the cold will ease the burn of it on his soul.
(Don't let it pass from a man's lips, that the Russian man has no poesy carved in his bones.) ]
Walk now, Cowboy.
[ There's a siren wailing in the distance, headed towards them. Too quickly for the rounds fired. ]
We are expected.