May 25th, 2005

tank girl


BulwarkWith her chin resting on her folded arms, Dawn leaned on her windowsill, looking down into the yard.

Spike leaned against the tree in the yard, barely visible through the leaves; Dawn could just make out his shape from the little ambient light. He'd been there for more than an hour and, aside from smoking, hadn't moved.

Dawn yawned against her hand, muffling what little sound she made, but Spike still heard it. He stepped out from under the tree and smiled up at her; a flash of white teeth competing with his hair, her protector in the night.


open_on_sundaychallenge #113: moving