Feb. 11th, 2005

eleutherios: (eye)
Eros sits alone in his swingin' bachelor pad - that is to say, not-quite-of-the-mortal-realm apartment - carefully loading bullets into cartridges. Many many many bullets... many, many, many cartridges.

If he was anyone else, he'd clearly be preparing for a massacre. But he's Eros, also called Cupid, and his bullets don't even break skin. Monday's the Big Day. One could say that he's preparing for a massacre of an entirely different kind.

Set to one side are a number of cases of a different kind of bullet. Less potent than the kind he himself uses, the effects of these won't last forever. Whoever's shot by them will feel the effects fade away after a certain number of hours, a safeguard Eros himself put in place. These are for his trainees; it's not that he doesn't trust in their abilities, it's just that he knows that they have no experience... whereas he has been doing this since the world began.

He's made several new guns as well, in different make and design. It's these, with some of the bullets, that he puts into a pair of black duffel bags. Then he heads out the door.

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Eros | Eric Eleutherios

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