The adventures of Helen and Sephala continue with TFR's writing prompt #28! I'm really enjoying stringing prompts together with them. Here's to many more shorts with these two!
The storm gathering at the top of the tower was something out of a bad movie with underbudget graphics. Nasty purple clouds flashed blue with lightning and the sky itself was an angry gray, torn with black clouds.
"This is batshit. We should wait for back-up." I said, eyeing Sephala as she geared up. The slender elf holstered a sidearm, tucked a knife into her boot, and checked that her jacket was strapped on properly before turning to me. Her face was flat, devoid of expression with not even a sparkle of her usual mischief in those plum eyes.
"You are going to wait for back-up. I'm going to start clearing a path. If I'm lucky, I'll end this before anyone else gets hurt."
"Seriously Sephala? You? You realize how ridiculous this is, right? I'm normally the one charging in guns blazing. Don't you think if I say we should wait, we should, you know, wait?"
"You are a human with a gun. I'm one of the deadliest elven wizards on this side of the planet." She hoisted an M4 and turned smartly, heading into the jaws of the tower. The wind pulled at her bun, tugging free wisps of dark hair and setting them afloat around her face. As she turned, her expression lost is blankness. Her mouth was weighed at the corners, lips thinning in severity. I had never seen her this determined. Facing off against an ancient draconic shapeshifter imprisoned for war crimes was precisely the kind of thing Sephala had been raised to avoid.
But here she was, and I had never loved her more.
Jogging after her, I checked my own belt. No guns for me, this time. If Sephala wanted to play range, I'd play melee. When I was close enough, I grabbed her arm.
"You'll die alone. I'm coming with you."
"I might die. But if I don't do this... we all die." She paused, her eyes locked onto mine. "If I don't do this, you die. Stay here, Helen. This is my mess. I'll clean it up."