اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
"He's dead."
"What?"
Snow crumbled under Artemisia's feet when she paused. In an impulsive motion, she reached for a manual hook and saved herself from declining into the ridge. She hissed through her teeth, biceps pulling. She pretended to keep it together, the time for acting frail was over.
Her partner, a slightly taller black woman, continued reading the message, ignorant of Artemisia's near death. She was waiting at the top, pacing about. "Somebody fucking killed him. I can't believe it. Fuck!"
Struggling to climb the last few meters, Temi found the strength to continue the exchange ( turns out using the hook made the challenge easier ). "Was it one of ours?"
"Does it sound like it was one of ours?" Milo König stared down at her with her arms crossed, still refusing to acknowledge Artemisia might have needed help. She stepped away from the border, allowing her room to slither up. "It was those guys you asked us to spare. What a fucking mistake."
The snow was soothing against her aching feet, she wished for her entire body to be embraced in chilliness. She plopped onto the hard bed of snow, grunting at the impact. Her eyes closed involuntarily, unwinding. "Well, at least we get to rest for the next week."
"Not really. They'll want us to do better for the next mission." Milo's footsteps echoed through the iced ground; it was deafening. "You don't achieve that by lazing around. In fact, we should start right now."
A wooden staff punched her abdomen, knocking out her breath. She did not complain, not out loud. The League was no place to feel hurt. Her glare struck Milo as she rose to her feet, seizing the weapon.
Her fierceness shattered when a gush of cold breeze pushed her back. She wasn't far from the rim. The staff anchored into the heavy snow, Artemisia held onto it with all her spirit. "We have to train up here?"
Milo rolled her eyes, unafraid of the wind that threatened to take them away. Her staff danced among her limbs with ease, defying nature's force. "You're seriously scared of falling?"
Taunting this newfound terror, the woman swung the wooden weapon at Artemisia with intent. Dodging the strike, she pushed towards the safer area, the less crumbly base. Color returned to her freezing face. "I'm more scared of the whole dying and being brought back to life part of falling."
"Dying is not that bad."
The fragile, white cushion cracked as Milo purposefully jumped on top. Artemisia caught her suit with the staff, dragging her away from the border. The woman croaked out a laugh, disentangling the weapon with aid of her own. Another smack of wood forced Artemisia further onto the center, where she recovered confidence.
"I dreamed about dying. More like revived it." The train, Joker, explosions, it all flashed before her eyes. The memory of Dianna's death was forever carved into her mind and soul. She suppressed a shiver, tensing the muscles of her back. "It felt awful. And, mind you, I've been tortured."
