A/N: Eh, this just came to me. I should be preparing my Royai Week pieces for this site, but have this random piece of suffering first!
Riza Hawkeye is no stranger to irony. She is a marksman forever marked by her sins, a guardian forever imprisoned by her charge. In her hands are blood and a smoking barrel; it's only justified that she too should have bullets put in her head as penance.
Bang. A daughter estranged from her father.
Bang. Deadly secrets given away as a weapon for genocide.
It's a game of roulette in which every chamber is loaded. Every shot means a sin, a permanent mark on her soul.
Bang. The unfailing aim of a murderer.
Bang. Pardon and exultation and a title she does not deserve.
She stays alive to carry the dead across a river of blood, wherever that may be on this earth. She remains on earth so she could follow him into hell. Still, on many days, she prays for the bullets to be real.
Bang. Trust, unconditionally placed in a man whose sin is as great as her own.
Bang.
Her feelings, their feelings, foolishly gambled on a future that may never exist—that they may never deserve.
The chambers are reloaded, and the cylinder is spun. Her finger remains on the trigger.
She plays the game again and again.