
she isn’t one to typically intervene – on ANYTHING, even as her thoughts race in their debates and judgement’s; but there was a line for everyone, wasn’t there ? —- a line where it become TOO MUCH.
dark skies envelope shadows around everything in it’s wake, she hears rustling down alleyways where not even the moonlight has room to illuminate. she shouldn’t even be out here, but at the least – she’s protected. her own life was screwed up enough that a small gun tucked in the back of her jeans was a bare necessity, even for her brief trips to the store. hearing someone say ‘ STOP ‘ is her line crossed, and she stalks further down before pulling out the gun at the predator.
❛ get your hands off them. ❜ even her tone is shaky – confrontation wasn’t her best skill, but she’s brave with the weapon she’s behind. ❛ and get the fuck out of here. ❜
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