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“An example it is.”
Somehow the suggestion of the action is worse. Lorenzo’s form obscures the gory details from her but she can see what is to come from his movements. Time was barreling forward at a brutal pace just a heart beat ago but she got stuck somehow in the inbetween. The brief moment in which Molly is neither quite dead nor alive; a window of infinite potential narrowing faster and faster and faster and just enough time for Beau to understand that it is over. Just enough time for the horror to build as inevitability sets in, a split moment magnified in her adrenaline-addled mind with horrifying clarity, of Lorenzo’s shoulder moving as he steadies his grip on the sword, the little shift of his weight in his footing, registering intent, Molly still breathing but gliding through her grasping fingers, no, inevitable, inevitably—
Beau heard him spit defiantly, but it didn’t register. That wasn’t Molly. Surely that wasn’t Molly, she must’ve heard it wrong, she can’t bear this moment being drawn out any longer. Just let it be over, stop acting like you’re alive, like there is anything left that can be done.
But there is still tension holding his body together, she can see him strain against what has essentially already happened. Leave it to Mollymauk to be so carefree that he doesn’t even give a shit that he died.
“Respect.”
Yeah, and then he really is dead.
What a fucking joke.
An ache spreads through her from her failed last ditch effort, beginning in the tips of her fingers and crawling down her arm while leaving a tremor in its wake. One missed strike, what the fuck. She can feel her lungs burn from exertion and tries to inhale but frenzied panic had crystallized into paralyzing rage. Makes her feel stupid and she has to look fucking stupid because she is standing on some goddamn horses with her jaw slack, just watching her friend die a miserable death, but stupid is good. Stupid is keeping her together. Her blood boils in her veins, and that makes sense to her more than anything else right now.
Molly really isn’t moving anymore. He’d cut into Lorenzo one moment, and how many times had she seen him pull these crazy stunts with his swords before now when things were looking dire? And that trick with the eyes? Fucking creepy is what it is—was— and then the next he’s dead. From cocky bastard to nothing. He and his useless fucking cards, should’ve warned him about this.
Suddenly, two crossbow bolts shoot at her from the side; one whirs past her with only inches from her body, the other one she catches mid-air out of reflex. Doesn’t even matter, her hand goes limp as she stares at Molly and drops the bolt, she doesn’t even need to look up. The world around has ceased to be and it’d be better if it stays so. The dead shape is burning itself into her retinas, still half-covered by Lorenzo.
But right, Lorenzo. He’s looking at her again, his features twisting with satisfaction at the sight of her reaction, smears of blood on his cheek. A grimace of a grin pulls across his face and her body tenses. “Is it time for another, or have you learned your lesson?”
Beau trembles slightly still. Under different circumstances she might’ve laughed. Of course, it’s always this, always men trying to teach her lessons that only benefit them. She’s sick of it, so sick of it, she could puke.
So she only leans forward, ready to spit in his face too. “You should know: I have no respect for authority.”