" I am the sea, and nobody owns me. "
Born with a gift that's seen as a curse, a young woman must try to regain some kind of normalcy in a world that sees her as a monster.
Suicide Squad | Sunny Scribbles 2023
Bloodsport| Robert DuBois| Mature Rating
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A little bit salty, and a little bit sweet. Together, Robert and Amila had made a life worth living. The ravages of him being gone that past year had done a number on her trust, but slowly Robert showed what kind of man he was, and he had a surreal explanation to boot.
Things unraveled a bit. Amila was of course very upset about how Robert had just basically vanished, and not one to get hung up on any kind of man, She had a hard time showing her true feelings for him. Robert revealed that he wasn't some off-base military man who worked on navel ships and helped with weary sea travelers, he was a mercenary. He had been sent out on back-to-back hits, which is why he had to leave so suddenly. This explained his flat ( or rather, lack of ) and his reservations about telling her the truth. Amila accepted every word, quietly waiting as he divulged the gruesome war crimes he'd committed. Dictators, terrorist heads, even US Senators, no one was off limits. They'd stayed in a Rockport one last night at his place, where he made both of them a hard drink and sat with her by a small electric fireplace. Amila changed into dry clothes and tucked her sopping-wet hair down behind her ears. She listened to every last sin he repented to her, and still loved him more after. He didn't sit right next to her, didn't caudal her at that moment. He sat close but across from her, she assumed to gauge her raw, real reaction and anticipate any resentment or anger. When Robert was done he cleared his throat, rubbed the back of his neck, and tossed back the small glass of liquor on the table next to him.
He only winced for a moment before putting his hands on his knees and shifting his petrified eyes to hers. Only he was met with the calm waters of Amila's steady stare. His body tensed, fully bracing for her wrath. Robert DuBois was met with a smile.
Amila nodded to his confession. Confused by her reply, or lack thereof, he mentioned more of his atrocities. Listing off reasons that may sway her from loving him, how his father tortured him for years, indoctrinating in him into the madman he was now. Each new story made her fall more and more in love with him. Her crazy suddenly was much more normal.
When Robert settled down, looking more anxious than when he'd started rambling minutes earlier, Amila prepared her confession. Robert snapped his fingers in front of them suddenly as if to break her from a trance. Her smile only deepened. He let his hands rest at his side as he sat back, looking at her with intrigue and a little apprehension.
" Milla, you're stone quiet love. " Robert reached for a thick amber bottle on the table next to him on a wooden table. He poured himself another drink and sat back, trying to see through how she was handling the news that he was a mercenary, a trained killer. Finally ready for her retort, Amila crossed her legs and leaned back against the plush beige couch in Robert's flat. She smiled at him fondly, finally realizing there was a deeper level to her love for him. The tides had truly brought them together.
" That's it then? No fucking fighting, no 'holy shit, you're'a fuckin' murderer,' or fuck I donna know, " he downed the glass he'd jus filled, trying to dampen his anxiety. " Jesus Christ, somethin. I'm a son-of-a-bitch. You can start'are."
