#person. but her injuries draw themselves across her skin and she opens clouded eyes and pitch blood pours from her like a fountain.

[trollbreak]

Girl help I’m tormented and thinking abt the snake themed bitches destroying each other and exalting each other and cycling in an endless spiral into power and desolation and

[kristahliaweek]

The Perfect Crime

Baron Whitney. That man had been allowed to live for far too long, considering how absolutely atrocious of a neighbor he was. His disgusting lawn had been the subject of much ire across the neighborhood, since the residents generally prided themselves on their dignity and the overgrown wilderness festering at his front door was a blight on their image, but nobody had the guts to just kill him already. All over the neighborhood website Dahlia had seen people publicly complaining that Whitney’s front lawn needed to be raided by the Homeowner’s Association effective immediately, but nothing ever came of their empty threats. Since nobody ever confronted the man, he neglected to clean up his act.

Why did Dalia have to do everything herself? Although, she supposed she wasn’t completely alone this time… she did have a co-conspirator after all.

The night was quiet enough that a gunshot would be heard almost immediately, but since base weapons such as those weren’t really Dahlia or Kristoph’s style anyway she supposed it didn’t matter. Poison was much more attractive, but even the combined power of both their maniacal brains couldn’t think of a way to poison Whitney without having to socially interact with him. Ranged weapons would be most suitable for the crime since the criminals didn’t want to step foot in the pig pen that man called a house, but neither of them knew nearly enough about bows to get reliable results. Kristoph insisted that he would make an excellent archer, but Dahlia knew he wouldn’t have the physical strength to draw the string back.

Eventually the diabolical duo settled on throwing sharp objects at him through his window, which was always open so that birds and bugs were entering Whitney’s house at all times. Whenever Dahlia looked across the street she could see the slob in his living room, asleep in his rocking chair while the television blaring at full volume. No matter where you were in the neighborhood, it was a guarantee you could hear the distant voices of soap operas characters.

The second obstacle in the assassination was transportation. In order to get Whitney in range they would have to push through the wasteland of trash and overgrown wildlife all without making a sound. Dahlia had mapped out the most convenient route after a few minutes of diligent tactical analysis, eventually deducing that the safest and most sanitary way would be to sidle along the gate before slowly creeping through the puddle of ambiguous liquid towards the porch. It wasn’t ideal, but it was what had to be done when the rest of the lawn was covered with towers of trash that could topple at the slightest disturbance, alerting the neighbors and ruining the pair’s outfits all at once.

Once they had arrived at the porch, the trouble became a matter of aiming over the piles of garbage that fortified the house both inside and out. There was a wall of trash that almost completely covered the window so that there was only a small opening for a weapon to fly through, and once it had traveled inside it would require an even greater precision not to skewer it on one of the many magazine stacks that stood between the target and the blade. Even if the weapon did manage to pierce Whitney there was no guarantee that the first injury would be fatal, so they had to be prepared to overcome all those obstacles again to land another blow. There was no way to know how many shots they were going to need, so Kristoph came prepared with his entire steak knife collection, discreetly stored inside his briefcase.

That being said, Dahlia only anticipated she would end up needing five knives at most. She and Kristoph had a dartboard in their room with a picture of Phoenix right on the bull’s-eye, and every night before bed they would both throw a dart each to see who would get the closest to his throat. In their nearly 3 years of living together, Dahlia was leading 881 to 103, and the amount of times she hit the mark exactly was around 20% compared to Kristoph’s measly 7%. Of the two of them, she was undoubtedly the more qualified for the job.

She felt every inch of the hilt as Kristoph slid a knife into her hand, “Let’s see how well you do this time.” His words were a whisper, and the same sadistic and condescending smile he always wore twisting across his face like a snake, “Remember to aim for the neck.”

Dahlia gripped the handle tightly and took aim, although finding a suitable angle was difficult when there was a narrow opening composed of stinking trash blocking her. Kristoph seemed to notice her disgust and reached inside his pocket, pulling out a small glass bottle not unlike the one Dahlia used to wear around her neck. Suddenly, an overpowering cloud of perfume had engulfed her. The flowery aroma was enough to nearly mask the repugnant odor, so she made sure to hiss back at Kristoph to show her appreciation before throwing her first knife.

The blade sliced through the air so quickly even Dahlia herself could hardly process it. She watched as it flew through the air and impaled a stack of papers right beside the sleeping old man, causing the tower to collapse directly on top of him. She heard a yelp as the man woke up and found himself buried by the avalanche of magazines, but she didn’t have time to celebrate just yet. Now that he was protected by layers and layers of pages, piercing his skin was going to be even more of a chore then it already was.

She could already feel the second knife being forcefully placed into her grip by her partner, so she took aim again while the man was still preoccupied with preventing himself from being buried alive. The weapon cut straight through the magazine pages and Dahlia soon noticed red staining a cluster of papers where his nose would be, but she couldn’t be sure the wound was fatal when he was still screaming. She kept her gaze trained on her victim and held out her hand to Kristoph, beckoning for him to supply her with another weapon, but after a few slow-motion seconds of not receiving one she was forced to briefly take her eyes off the prize and see what the delay was about.

Kristoph was preparing to throw a knife of his own. Of course that bastard would try to steal her kill! Before she had a chance to vocalize her betrayal, Whitney had burst out from under a sea of papers, wheezing as the blood flowing from his mouth stained the pages below him. Kristoph didn’t hesitate for a moment, immediately throwing the weapon with a frightening force. As always, his aim was just slightly off the mark and ended up burying itself into the drywall directly behind Whitney, but the blade still managed to tangentially slice the side of the man’s head during its travels. The wound cut deeply enough that blood began to begin dripping from his temple instantaneously, and after a shrill scream Whitney finally dropped to the ground.

“It seems I have won this round, Hawthorne.” Kristoph didn’t give Dahlia a moment to celebrate their accomplishment or to scold him for interfering, “Personally, I believe that should count as 5 points.”

Dahlia’s face twisted in anger, “You didn’t even hit the target! If this was the game you wouldn’t be getting any credit, much less five whole points! Who do you think I am?”

“If you had been paying attention, you might have noticed I did indeed hit the target.” Kristoph smirked, “How else do you explain the blood?”

“You get credit for fatal injuries!” Dahlia was struggling to keep her volume under control, “That was nothing but a flesh wound!”

Kristoph laughed a little too loudly, “Why do you think he went limp as soon as I wounded him? Surely you aren’t going to suggest it’s a coincidence. Clearly it was I who dealt the fatal blow.”

“All your little scratch did was hurry the process along!” Dahlia insisted, “I was the one who killed him! I dealt the killing blow, it just took a moment for him to actually die from it!”

“Can you prove that?” Kristoph’s smugness was reaching critical levels, “We didn’t even see the impact.”

“You would never have been able to hit him if I hadn’t trapped him under those magazines in the first place!” Dahlia could feel herself losing control of her temper, “At least give me credit for that! You know you’re a terrible shot compared to me. You can barely hit a piece of paper on a dartboard, there is no way you would have been able to even touch Whitney if I hadn’t restrained him!”

“So when I miss I’m disqualified, but when you miss it’s suddenly some sort of accomplishment?” Dahlia could see his mouth twitching, “Not that I did miss. But you must admit, your first attack even draw blood.”

“This isn’t about my first shot! All that matters is who killed Whitney!” Kristoph’s eyes were no longer visible behind his glasses, “We may not have seen the knife enter the body, but we did see the blood! If I had missed, he wouldn’t have been bleeding! Not to mention that he must have been bleeding buckets for us to have seen it under all that paper. Clearly I was the one who killed him!”

Before Kristoph could respond, a small and unfamiliar voice echoed from across the yard. The criminals whipped their heads away from each other and saw a short man standing at the front of the gate, eyes wide with terror and whimpering at what he had just witnessed. When Dahlia and Kristoph‘s murderous gaze met his, he was petrified for a moment before letting out a deafening scream and running as fast as he could in the other direction.

How inconvenient. Witnesses were always such a hassle. Dahlia supposed her argument with Kristoph must wait until they got home. She looked over to her partner and saw that he was thinking the same thing.

“We will resolve this later. Right now, we must focus on getting rid of the witness.”

[thesalemsaga]

𝟳 — 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝘂𝗻𝘁𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗻

—   𝙨𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙖.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 7.7k words

𝙨 : after losing their ship, it has become obvious the journey they’re due to continue will be a tough one. however, they come across merchants, people beyond the walls, and find themselves hunting a creature that apparently stole their precious trade.

“ does anyone have some water they can spare? ”.

the only stroke of luck they had that night was that they would not have to tread through a desert. it still didn’t take away from the fact that they were short on resources, some of which were still in the ship and they didn’t bother to recover them. they were short on water, short on food, and when night began to fall on them, found themselves short on shelter.

truth be told, they had been walking for hours ever since the incident. they might have lost their means of transport but they all still had feet to carry them forward, and after a full hour of getting kailen back on his feet and finding their means of direction, they finally began to travel north east like they intended.

seren was knackered. years of training had never prepared her for hiking for at least four hours, without a break, mind you. the temperatures were cool, they didn’t have to deal with heatstroke but her feet were aching and her muscles were tense, not to mention that she was too shy to request some treatment from alexander. she could carry on!

above them, the heavens had darkened, clouds had pooled, and the winds became colder. kailen was still struggling to tread on despite the spells alexander put on him. the doses, as you could call it, had to be weak in order for the male to be healing whilst awake. if alexander did a full spell, it would send kailen to sleep, and nobody, except for evangelos, was willing to carry the boy.

their surroundings had moved from a rocky bay to a solid, grassy path, encountering a few meadows and streams and based on how romeo was smacking his arm and complaining about mosquitoes, they would soon be entering the tropics that kailen foresaw.

“ alright, let’s stop here for tonight. ”

seren groaned and collapsed onto her knees before she could ever look around her. their path had become slim, a path in between large rock structures that either belonged to temples or were meant to hold some sort of symbolism to the old world. regardless, they provided cover in the case of rain, and protected them from any watchful eyes from above when they lit their fire.

evangelos had been cradling firewood in his arms for a while, so when seren caught sight of the splinters on his forearms after he put them down, she frowned. he could have shared some of that burden with her, she wasn’t exactly the strongest but it would mean he wouldn’t be hurt.

setting up camp was rather easy. they mostly sought out grassy grounds so they didn’t have to lay on rocky surfaces. they removed most of their heavier clothes like the cloaks and jackets to be their ‘sleeping bags’, and whilst evangelos and alexander worked on the fire, seren approached kailen with a level of concern. “ if you’re going to ask whether i’m okay again ”, he began with an amused tone.

the swordsman knelt in front of him and smiled delicately. “ of course i’m going to ask you whether you’re okay. you’ve been struggling to stay awake for four hours. i just hope you rest well tonight ”, she said, thoughts drawing back to the moment where she was certain she was never going to see kailen again.

it was not the first time she saw the dead in front of her, yet the most horrifying detail about the issue was that she saw the color draining from his skin, the blueness on his lips and how lifeless he was. it was a horrid image she was most likely never going to get out of her head.

“ i’ll sleep like a rock, definitely. with a fire and maybe with a belly full of . . . cereal bars, bread and water ”, he laughed and sighed, resting back against his cloth bed and paid the girl another smile. “ i never got to thank you for saving my life. how rude of me. ”

seren shook her head furiously, “ i was only doing my duty as your teammate. i was just faster than the others. and i wasn’t going to let you die. ”

it’s not something someone can easily comprehend, staring down at a friend whose life is slowly draining away, dying breaths escaping from their lips in seconds and feeling powerless to stop death from yanking their soul from their body. it hit her hard because she had looked upon the body of someone she couldn’t save, and when the opportunity came, she didn’t hesitate the save the life of someone whose time wasn’t supposed to come so soon.

kailen had a lot to look forward to beyond the mission, seren was no soothsayer yet she could easily tell you that his time hadn’t come. saving his life didn’t give her a self-esteem boost even if it should, it just made her regret leaving him in the grasp of danger to begin with.

seren glanced back when a faint crackling came from behind her. the campfire they had made was small, but the heat was enough for her to shiver and for the tiredness to come creeping up her skin. the girl ultimately stood back up and turned to her backpack, where she took out her dinner for the night.

bread and water.

but at least it was milk bread!

settling down to eat, she observed the group of boys and how they went about settling in for the night. kailen had fallen fast asleep as soon as he finished eating, alexander putting a jacket over him before turning to his book. romeo was having a tender discussion with evangelos about guns. immediately, seren began to look around for the missing perseus.

she tried not to jump when she heard a minor grunt beside her, with perseus taking a seat beside her and flashing her a small smile. “ you look seriously tired, how are you still awake? ”, he questioned.

was it obvious? the warmth from the campfire was causing every muscle in her body to pause and rest after hours of exercising them profusely. she had begun to unwind and hadn’t even noticed it until her blinks became longer and her head started to nod off.

yet a part of her remained restless. she couldn’t exactly sleep when there were many things ahead of them, and seren was definitely the type of person to have a mental breakdown at midnight for no particular reason.

it was salem keeping her up. it was kailen’s injury keeping her up. it was the fear that they would encounter something bad tomorrow keeping her up. yet her body fought violently for rest, and as the others began to lay down, she and perseus were the only ones still sitting up.

seren’s head fell on his shoulder in an instant, drawing a long sigh from her lips. “ a lot of things. mainly the issue with kailen, but also the plans of the adventure as a whole. we got the fuel but what use is it if we don’t have a ship to go with it? ”, the matter remained rhetorical. being beside perseus was making her feel warmer, and as a result, sleepier.

and by the looks of things, with the way his body grew limp and how his breathing had drawn to a steady and drawn out sound, he wasn’t doing any better than her at remaining awake. why did she feel the need to lean against him suddenly? she certainly did not regret the decision. his voice also soothed some of the doubts and worries she continued to have in the dead of night.

“ if all that’s happened up until now has happened, well, i firmly believe it was supposed to. maybe this is a good wake up call for us. ditching the ship was on the plan anyway. we just didn’t know when “, the artist insisted on seeing things with a positive light. seren envied him. not even a self-proclaimed optimist like herself could do it. all she knew, based on this small conversation, was that perseus ursa did wonders to the soul.

nonetheless, seren withdrew her head from his shoulder in fear of burdening him. but turned it ever so slightly to face him, to admire his features under moonlight, to study his condition and figure out a way to send him to sleep. he was half way through and needed a small push. “ can i ask you a question? “, he spoke suddenly, meeting her gaze.

“ sure “. seren stretched her legs out against the ground and hunched forward slightly.

“ your hair . . . is it naturally like that? “.

natural pink hair? his naivety brought a giggle to build in her throat. she would like it to be true, her pink hair had been her favorite color since she was first ever allowed to mingle with hair dye. after going blonde and brunette, she settled with this waterfall of cotton candy. it drew too much attention, something she sought out purposefully. it’s difficult to be a person who wishes to be admired, only to receive little to none of it. maybe her hair could get her some recognition since her attempts of befriending people doesn’t do the trick.

in response to his question, seren chuckled and shook her head. “ i’d like it to be. but no, i’m afraid it’s not. i dye my hair for the sake of sparing my father from looking at me and being reminded of my mother “, she didn’t wish to open up to anyone about her family. but perseus was not one to judge, as it appeared to her. he could carry a secret. “ i’m an exact replica of her. “

“ do you have a picture? “.

indeed she did. her father knew little to nothing about the things she kept surrounding her mother, he was only aware of the sword she carried. but edged into her tiny purse which she carried everywhere, was a minute photograph. marks of folds cursed the corners despite her best attempts at keeping it flat, but the quality of the picture remained relatively the same. you could thank the woman in it for that.

because even as she pulled the photo out and placed it into perseus’s capable hands, seren was smitten by the woman smiling on it.

orange locks curled and drooping over bare, fair shoulders stained with some freckles. cheeks round and pink, also met with the familiar markings that seren was lucky to inherit, although not in the same amount. the eyes are the windows to the soul, and her mother’s was green; adventurous, wild, free. her expression was settled between a pout and a smile, a cheeky one at that. how old was she in this picture, seventeen? it’s easy to say that she was gorgeous inside and out from the moment she was born, and that beauty thrived when she became a woman.

did she charm perseus just like she did with nearly anyone lucky enough to catch sight of her? through the way he viewed the photo, his lips apart, perhaps she had worked her magic. and that brought a grin from her daughter.

“ i thought you almost gave me a picture of yourself “, he said after a couple moments of silence. seren lingered beside him, admiring the art piece within his fingers along with him. he turned his head and paid her a long glance. “ you’ve got orange hair, then. “

the dreamy tone which dripped from those words were enough to make the girl blush, for the first time in a while.

there was still a lot she wanted to say. the presence of a moral soul beside her brought an overwhelming surge of feelings of sensitivity. she wanted to speak up about how her father crumbled when her mother had enough. she wanted to muse about the gaping hole in her chest at the loss of a sibling. she wished to pour her heart out to sweet perseus in hopes he could present her some guidance. but that would be a burden, would it not? she couldn’t begin to comprehend what he felt, being away from home, from family, thrown into a strange environment that he couldn’t have ever dreamt of. 

she would simply have to carry those burdens for a little longer, until she could dump it when she reached her limit.

“ well, considering we’re far from home, i suppose i’ll be seeing that natural hair “, perseus said just as he sunk his fingers into her locks and then flicked them, watching as they settled down her back like a downpour of pink. could he do that again? that felt lovely. “ you know, despite what you say, i reckon your old man would be happy to see you as you naturally are . . . do you cover your freckles with make up? “.

seren’s head fell. guilty.

there was a time, early into the days where her mother decided to leave, where seren began to despise the girl in the mirror. she despised the orange hair, the freckles that coated the back of her hands and her cheek bones. she was a replica of the woman she hated, until of course she began to understand why her mother took her leave to begin with. yet it became a habit, to cover those markings in worry of upsetting the one hurt by it all the most; her dear father.

it was an incredible need to rid herself from any burdens, because if she didn’t do it now, perhaps she would become one as the journey progressed. seren was useless when her head was heavy.

“ i won’t cover them anymore. “

“ good. “

perseus grunted whilst lifting himself up, grasping his rags and bag. he was probably heading off to bed, and seren ought to do the same. yet she couldn’t put her kind to rest just yet, she wanted to ensure everyone was sleeping before she could do the same. it was just a habit, wanting to see them asleep or composed before she could lay down herself.

after seeing perseus settle down a few steps away from evan, the swordsman stood up with her own frail legs and tread around. kailen was knocked out at this point, sleeping deeply that not even her footsteps could wake him. alexander seemed to be out cold, his book placed over his face. romeo and evan, too, settling in for the night and cutting their conversation short. and perseus dozed off slowly only moments after settling down. from her observation, all these exhausted ‘pups’ had nestled in. this meant she could sleep with some liberty.

what seren first noticed about her surroundings, was the sky above her. star dusted, clusters of lights engulfing a sea o black behind them like a painted canvas. she would only see these sights from her balcony back home, and now she could see them for what they were in this cloudless night. and she couldn’t miss the crescent moon smiling down upon them, glowing faintly like her sisters that flicked to her as if to bask in her beauty; truly the prettiest moon of all.

what would tomorrow bring them? would they be sleeping under the stars again? would there be a roof above her tomorrow? how many nights would she sleep for until she got to salem?

questions that would be answered within the passing of time, nature’s enemy and ally. time that would bring the morning to them soon; and with that thought in mind, seren could almost put her mind to rest, craning her head to the side and settling under her cape serving as her only blanket. they were safe here, she hoped.

time skip . . .

they were up early the next morning, and seren was struggled to move an inch of a muscle.

truth be told, she felt like she had been smashed between two boulders repeatedly, her legs were equivalent to jelly and she couldn’t even think to take her sword out in case of an impending attack. everything hurt, but what aches her more was the thought that there was more to tread ahead, thousands of steps to be taken before she could think of growing proximate to salem.

kailen said they needed to keep heading north east if they wished to reach the rainforests of the peninsula. the idea of a dense landscape of damp trees and running streams put her mind at rest, but not completely; what gnawed was a slight trepidation directed to the wild. 

animals. wild ones, ones you wouldn’t think would exist until you set your feet into the real world and saw it for yourself. it was a worry that she shared with the first person who she thought looked awake. and that was romeo. he was also the gunner who knew of animals.

“ so, you’re asking me what kind of animals we’d find in a rainforest? “.

seren pouted, now she felt like an idiot.

romeo hummed and adjusted the straps of his gun hanging from his back. “ that’s a tough question, seren. but what i can tell you is that there are a lot. usually tame ones like monkeys. there are quite a lot of predators, though; crocodiles, big cats, snakes. “

“ and what’s the chance of us running into one of these predators? “, she was sure it was pretty much a hundred percent.

“ i’m bad at math but i can tell you; a lot. “

yup, she guessed right.

yet it didn’t bother her as much as it should. animals with a note of fear in their body would know better than to advance on a big group of intelligent mammals who are also armed. but she remained suspicious of the animals that weren’t on national geographic documentaries, the ones belonging to ancient tomes collecting dust down in the private portion of the valhalla library.

mythical beasts. romeo had failed to mention the chance of a run-in with them. and maybe it was for the better.

throughout their pacing, they traversed miles and miles on foot through dips between cliffs, following a path of savannah and a dry wind that just grew warmer as time went on. her throat was starting to ache, but she was far too timid to ask evan for water when kailen needed it the most. he still looked as pale as yesterday, hence why they made more stops than before. seren held gratitude for alexander in that prospect, he was the one timing and leading the way, and was more merciful than evan who wanted to carry on until they ran into something.

what she can tell you, though, was that small dips of water were scattered around as they progressed, with palm trees growing taller and bushes growing denser and the sound of water running growing louder. it even allowed for a chill gust of wind to blow against her face, and by god, was it the most refreshing feeling. never would seren believe that there would be an oasis in these parts, up until now.

as the sixth hour of their walk rolled in, perseus took note of something that brought their steps to a slight halt.

“ look up. “

half expecting there to be a military ship floating above them, seren went to grasp her weapon. but lowered her hand in an instant once the tone of perseus’s command dawned on her. the sky, which had previously been blue and raging with the sun’s blaring heat, now grew grey, clouds swarming to hide the yellow face teasing the melting youths below.

cloudy and dense skies; that can only mean one thing. they were getting closer.

the group grew closer to what seemed to be the final oasis in their path, this only half an hour after they stopped in the last one, which the swordsman could see in the distance by throwing her gaze back. had they really gotten this far? it felt like they were still back at the start, just seconds from seeing their ship being dragged into the ocean. and if not due to their quick thinking, their team mate would’ve gone down as well.

“ uhm, guys . . . what’s that? “.

ripping her gaze away from the plains behind her, she saw romeo pointing out towards the path they’d been following. there, right at the end, she spotted what appeared to be a cart that had been toppled over, vibrant in color and most importantly, swarming with what seemed to be people.

yes. people.

suddenly, salem became the last of her concerns.

what perseus had said just yesterday was a possibility she rendered as unlikely. she didn’t want to gamble but seren’s bet of seeing humans beyond the walls was set on being an absolute zero. nothing. she was set on seeing animals and wild beasts that had crawled out of the pits of hell when magic awakened, and seeing people . . . it rendered her immobile for a stretch of many seconds until she heard evan unsheathe his weapon. “ evan— “.

“ isn’t it weird that the first people we run in just so happen to be lost merchants gathering around a toppled car? “.

he was suspicious, that was a given but seren couldn’t bring herself to feel the same. in fact, her mind was entirely settled in reaching out and checking if these travelers needed help of some sort. 

and thankfully, in the most fucked up sense, help was definitely going to be needed when a woman let out an ear piercing scream, following by the scattering of the group running off in all directions.

what was she going to do, sit there and watch the danger unfold just like she did at the academy? seren was the first to take off running, followed swiftly by evan.

when she group took off running in various directions, seren took notice of the sort of people they were. men and women and children of all ages, and when her eyes came across that of a child no younger than eight who was crying out for help, she had to use her semblance, despite being a shift away from collapsing.

a snarl erupted behind her just when her arms caught the child, followed by the click and push of evan’s gauntlets and a shot gun behind fired. she didn’t dare look, in case she saw something that would stop her from getting this child to safety. upon shifting again, seren found herself standing some metres away from the fallen cart, buried within tall grass with a small boy in her arms.

why wasn’t she fighting? that was what she was trained for, she could’ve grasped her sword and done something, helped her teammates, but her mind froze, going in a loop of painful memories that led to those nerves being pulled. she basically grasped the boy out of danger like a reflect action, and couldn’t help but sense embarrassment at that. 

just as she was about to glance down at this tiny figure and ask him whether he was okay, a shadow began to loom over her, and seren was fortunate to roll away just seconds before a corpse to a creature landed just where she had been laying.

scales, talons, claws. a reptilian creature of some sort that carried a repugnant smell that went to the back of her brain.

“ seren! are you alright?! “.

kailen’s cry reached her seconds later, he peeked at her from behind the cart and rushed over, observing the creature and pulling out an arrow that had been etched in its neck, seren shuddered at the sound of shifting glands and skin. “ y-yeah, fine “, she replied and sat up.

the boy she had managed to rescue was trembling in her arms. he had just barely managed to tuck his face within the crane of her neck where he cried and cried, and although it seemed to gain a shudder from kailen, seren didn’t mind. she had to deal with this at some point, with another child drooling and sobbing and fussing. she felt almost thankful that there was no repetition of those actions in that moment.

it ran through her mind that perhaps this boy didn’t speak the same language as them, that maybe the people beyond the walls had adapted something of their own, so communicating through words was not an option for the time being. she only shushed him softly and patted his back, glancing at kailen and furrowing her brows. “ where are the other merchants? “, she quizzed.

“ we’re rounding them up. i think the mom is looking for the kid ”. and with that being sad, seren decided to let him go. it took a couple of seconds, for the boy was clinging hard to her and struggling to contain his tears.

it was just for a moment, but seren was able to look into the kid’s eyes. and saw familiar fear. shock. rightfully so. but he seemed to be totally unaware that he could’ve been squashed in between the cart and the ground, and he only continued to cry out for his mom when her voice called out for him in the wind. at that, seren picked her up, and dusted her grimy uniform.

after paying a small glance to kailen, she went to where alexander appeared to be healing a man’s knee that was deeply cut after the run-in with the creature, that still went unnamed and unnoticed. was it only her that was incredibly worried by it, perturbed that something this vicious would be out in the plains when the rainforest was a couple miles away? clearly not, since romeo rushed over to investigate what it was.

“ there’s more of them. ”

it was relief that washed over seren when a man’s voice reached her ears, in a language she could definitely understand.

upon looking, she saw him sat on the ground, dirt and grime coating his face as a young woman pressed a damp towel to his cheek and nose. seren tried not to take notice of the blood, only of what he had said. “ more? w-where did you see them, if you don’t mind me asking? ”, her tone slowed in something caring.

“ down by the forest ”, the woman beside him replied, accent heavy. she clenched her jaw and nodded in the direction of the path they would’ve continued to follow had this accident not interrupted them. “ we were coming out of there and heard some noises. we didn’t think anything of it at first, until something jumped on top of our wagon. we managed to kill one, and the rest ran off. ”

“ with our stuff, no less. ”

seren heard steps shift behind her and turned, seeing perseus giving her a sympathetic smile and then returning his attention to the bleeding man and the woman who continued to nurse him. “ you’re merchants, i figured. but these creatures seemed to hold bad intentions. and they’re intelligent. what did they take? ”.

the injured man grunted, “ just about everything of value. we were going to sell some of it down in the market in the south. a week’s journey. but they took all our silk and gold, and our food. we have kids traveling with us, we can’t let them starve. and the animals . . . we don’t know if they’re safe to hunt. ”

if she could cast her memory far enough, seren could recall a lesson she had with doctor oz. he was a brilliant man who knew of animals in a way that not many did. he was infatuated with studying them, and he once proposed an idea that gathered some laughs. until now.

the idea was simple; that through the course of salem’s reign, animals were being affected the most. normal animals, animals you’d find to be a native of anime landscape. they were consumed by this sort of nervous tick and anger targeted towards humans, something he had observed when he was allowed out to tuscany. when he’d managed to kill a bird, he examined it. and it was rotten from the inside.

of course, you wouldn’t really be able to tell with sight and touch alone. and that was why he figured that even animals which had survived ragnarok, were becoming a threat to humans.

a kid could some part of an animal body for dinner and then never wake up the next morning due to failing organs. the thought alone made seren sick, which led to her eventual conclusion.

they were going to get those items back.

“ absolutely not. ”

“ don’t be an ass, evan. ”

of course, when she brought the idea forth to her team-mates, the reactions were mixed. but her concern was on the merchants. the fact that they’d come across humans beyond the walls no longer really stunned her, the feeling of excitement and curiosity faded the moment she realized she could be responsible for their deaths if she didn’t try to help them in some way.

maybe she was just being far too naive, too much of a pacifist for her own good. but ever since the fall of valhalla, there was a thought gnawing at the back of her mind telling her something rather simple. 

even if you didn’t cause the harm, you will bring more at the refusal of helping.

“ we don’t know them ”, evan put it simply. “ our time is short, our resources are short. if we agree to this, we could be delaying our journal for a good couple of days and we’re already running low on resources. we could be putting the very nature of our journey in jeopardy at the sake of helping these people. ”

seren disliked seeing the wavering expressions, the hisses between teeth and the tuts. why wasn’t anyone immediately jumping in to counter evan? why? why?! had they not learned anything about valhalla?!

at that point, seren didn’t care for the majority. this time, she turned on her heel and began to make haste down the path they’d been treading towards to begin with and it didn’t take long before romeo was calling after quickly, rushing to catch up. “ woah, woah! seren, you can’t just go alone! ”.

“ if you arrogant idiots aren’t gonna move your asses, then i’ll move mine! ”.

maybe she wasn’t thinking right. maybe this was a bad idea, heading in alone. what if she was swarmed by a number of those monsters? but she couldn’t just continue on with her adventure when that boy’s face was imprinted in the back of her mind as a reminder that they weren’t just here to complete one goal and leave. this was a journey that would test their training, and perhaps valhalla hadn’t taught her about sympathy and being the hero for the people but small conversations with her father had.

he would be disappointed if she turned a blind eye, and that’s why she progressed.

so despite feeling ill after smacking romeo’s hand away, seren turned to look back just once to see if anyone would join her, anyone with just a little bit of courage left. and no one moved an inch. that broke her heart in half.

but it didn’t stop her from going by herself.

after the first few steps alone, seren began to feel a little certain that her lone adventure would end well. they could wait behind her and she could bring the stolen goods back to the merchants and they would be on their way. most importantly, the travelers would be content and healthy enough to get to safety and that was all she wanted.

her only concern was that night would fall and she was useless in the dark. her semblance may be speed but she could very much run face-first into a tree trunk if encountered with an enemy. not to worry, though! with her semblance, she would make it back in no time.

time skip . . .

the only rainforest she’s seen before is the one in the valhalla atlas, and it was nothing like the one she was currently going through.

through the gaps between the dense trees dancing above her, seren could count the remaining hours of daylight, and it only added to her worries. it was hot, humid enough for her to have to remove her coat and shove it into her bag if she had any hope of surviving through this intense environment.

every bush she brushed against, she would shudder at. it was the impending fear that she could fall into thorns and blind herself or just badly hurt her already aching body. she regretted not staying behind to see if someone would join her, but it just gave her a form of entertainment; grumbling about boys.

“ i have to everything myself ”, the pink-haired girl mumbled, smacking her rapier against another couple of bushes with a sense of irritation that was digging into every nerve in her breathing body. she still couldn’t believe the audacity of those boys standing there, claiming themselves to be self-righteous heroes, liberators of the empire, when they couldn’t even help a group of troubled, stranded merchants.

yes, she did want to agree with evan’s claim. they were limited on time, having to reach their enemy before she can launch a predicted attack on the island of crete and eradicating every possibility of humanity re-constructing itself. but that doesn’t mean a good deed along the way is going to be a heavy burden on them. so as much as she understood, she couldn’t agree with the notion.

which brought her further confusion on how all of them had agreed to stay behind.

well, her only option was to put it behind her. her skirt was covered in mud and soot and she was tempted on removing it and walking around only in her cycling shorts that she always wore beneath. it wasn’t going to do any harm.

whilst she was pacing through this endless jungle, that was soon losing its sense of tropicalness and began to soon resemble a normal forests. the sound of birds singing soon reached her ears, the rushing of streams grew quieter and her steps were replaced by the crunching of leaves and pebbles being kicked as opposed to mud. she wondered, if she looked in the mirror right now, would she be able to recognize herself?

nonetheless, the grounds were becoming far more plain, and she didn’t nearly twist her ankle every time she walked on. seren was beginning to grow thankful for this lonesome adventure, her ears could use a break from hearing those boys bickering. albeit annoying, she did feel prone to danger without that light-hearted heckling.

it felt . . . dangerous.

and without kailen’s watchful eyes on her back and romeo flinching at any odd sounds his sensitive ears could pick up, seren felt more open for an attack than ever. and it could come at any moment, but until now, she had to worry about the stolen goods tan she did about whatever creature from before attacking her now.

and as luck would have it, she would not have to wait for long. at least five minutes after entering a new section of the forest, where she could see the blue sky above her, seren spotted something on the ground that twinkled under the sun’s grace. a golden coin, a currency that she immediately referred back to the merchants.

she crouched and picked it with delicacy, brushing the bits of dirt covering it and squinting to see whether she could recognize the symbol. she couldn’t.

knowing nothing of the civilizations beyond the walls, she most definitely didn’t expect them to develop their own currency when so much was at stake. and it goes to say that the human race will always find a way to survive. and she allowed them to put her mind at ease, if only for a second.

seconds after placing the coin into her pouch, seren heard a clatter. followed by a grunt. and footsteps. and another grunt. all coming from a couple of trees ahead of her, so the swordsman immediately crouched and rolled behind a wide tree to hide her body.

upon peeking, it was quite hard not to gasp audibly at what she had managed to see.

the goods. she could see every fruit, bread, and drink tucked in large sacks that were behind heavily guarded. and how does she know that? well, for the two giant animals circling it and staring off into vacant spaces of the forest, shifting their sharp gazes in short seconds and snarling at anything that moved.

it was the same monsters that had attacked the wagon back in the dirt road and seren was only a couple of feet away from them. she didn’t get to see how the first one attacked, how it moved, whether it was fast or slow or had some sort of wicked power building up in its lungs. she’s never felt this scared of an encounter before.

now, her chances of taking them both out quickly was low. she wasn’t a sneaky attacker, she came in head-strong like most swordsmen with her style. this is why she needed someone relying on stealth on the team . . . this is why she really needed the team!

her heart began to palpitate when one of the monsters suddenly shifted its gaze to the tree she stood behind and she only managed to hide a millisecond later but perhaps that was too late. with her breathing starting to grow erratic, and steps growing close, seren didn’t know what to do. for the first time in forever, the mind she relied so much on did not cooperate with her when she was seconds away from being eaten by a lion-and-goat-headed, snake-tailed, winged beast.

but she could hide.

through the shift up the tree, seren looked down through thick branches at the monster now looking around the tree. it could smell something off, she knew, and if she so much as breathed too loudly, it would hear her. and it could pounce, fly, and reduce her to shreds.

her eyes were hot with tears, one snap of a tree branch and she would be falling into the beast’s mouth. that would be her life, over. salem alive and destroying the world. her father in danger. her friends lost in the middle of nowhere with no means of re-tracing their steps. why couldn’t her stubborn, passive butt just stayed back there?!

a roar rang, and seren’s heart stopped.

in those lingering moments, she saw her soul leave her body only to be sucked back in by another roar, a cry of pain from the beasts below that seemed to have diverted their attention to something, or someone, moving so quickly that she could hardly keep up.

“ seren! ”.

that was perseus calling her name, and seren mistook it for an angel welcoming her into the afterlife. her weak legs barely managed to stand among those branches as she peeked and saw kailen’s arrows shoot by in a trail of flashes that left her blinded. evan’s gauntlets started glowing again, and at that point, she had to look away.

her mind was racing with what could’ve been that suddenly shift of a shadow she saw moving in between those beasts before the boys came in to help. it was still down there, weaving in between shadows, waiting, and then launching into another attack, cutting a limb and rushing back into an abyss casted by trees.

the only thing she heard next was alexander screaming romeo’s name and then a shot being fired, followed by a roar, followed by silence.

in the trees, seren trembled. shocked to the core, tears at the verge of spilling over the edge just like it did the night valhalla fell. yet again, she had chickened out. she had avoided danger for the sake of saving her own skin rather than diving into action and being the hero she always wanted to be. she just waited, for the sound of death, and prayed for god to send an angel. and that he did. but how many would he send every time seren decided to be the world’s greatest coward?

seconds of silence continued, and her body finally went limp.

with a hiss, she felt her right arm slam against a branch on her way down and she held her breath, waiting for that long awaited fall which she wished would be her wake-up call. maybe by fucking her head up, she could actually start being useful when she was back on her feet.

but no impact came, unless if you count be caught as one. personally, seren felt as if she had landed within a pool of feathers, her head recoiled forward when she dared to slip into the darkness as her eyes fell closed. but then snapped back open and found herself being held, arms encasing her body in an almost bridal fashion. it took her many moments to recognized that these arms did not belong to any of the fellow men joining her adventure.

as her arm throbbed in pain, her head followed as she turned it and looked upon an unfamiliar face. it looked far too unbothered for her to see it as the knight in shining armor, a pair of cat-like eyes staring into her own which invoked a shudder of fear.

small, pouted lips. fair skin. feline eyes with a scar running down the right. slicked black hair. she recognized this man as the one who had landed the first blow on the chimeras that had nearly brought her at death’s door.

and now she was in his arm and she’s never felt more awkward in her life.

“ i was expecting a thank you, but . . . ”.

taken aback by his voice, seren found herself being placed back safely on the ground and a fraction of a second later, was yanked back into romeo’s arms as he squeezed her into a hug. it was the first time she’s seen him look so troubled and worried before. “ are you insane?! don’t ever try something like that again! if we hadn’t come in in time, then . . . ”.

“ no, we did jack shit, romeo. we owe our thanks to this fellow. ”

upon hearing alexander speak for the first time in a while, seren turned back after being freed from romeo’s painful embrace. now that she could see their savior better, she felt herself growing exceedingly embarrassed.

whoever this man was, she owed him a lot.

he appeared to be the same age as them, if not just a bit older. wearing dark clothes and giving off the air of being unapproachable, seren was quick to classify him as the assassin type the moment her eyes landed on the sword and dagger tucked into sheaths behind his back. he was a hunter, most definitely. and it was thanks to him that the merchants were getting their goods back.

“ uhm, thank you . . . ”.

“ who are you guys? ”.

the unpleasant tone baffled the young girl, she shared a long glance with this assassin before she stepped forward and cleared her throat. she was the head of the party, should she do the introductions? “ w-we’re from behind the walls . . . uhm, we’re here to collect the goods for the stranded merchants back in the main road . . . ”.

he rolled his eyes, “ yeah, i figured that much. came a little late, don’t you think? you shouldn’t keep starving people waiting. ”

oh, the nerve it took her not to glare at evangelos.

the assassin coughed into his hand and turned to the bagged foods and poked them with the tip of his boots. “ look, i was gonna give it back to them when i first witnessed the attack. but these chimeras are hard to hunt down. i suppose i owe it to pinkie over there for distracting them for me ”. pinkie?

looking at the expressions between the boys, no one seemed pleased enough with this encounter. even if they did owe a lot to this young man . . . at least she did.

“ that aside, who are you? ”, it was the first time seren has heard perseus come across in such a blunt manner.

the dark-haired gentleman pursed his lips and stared, “ levi dain. ”

levi . . . seren repeated the name beneath her breath and nodded, growing the courage to speak to him again without feeling intimidated. “ listen, levi . . . y-you can take the credit for the goods being returned. b-but we hoped that perhaps you could point us towards . . . uhm, russia. ”

“ russia? pft, are the people from the walls finally deciding on tourism? ”.

he was becoming more insufferable to talk to than evangelos and alexander combined and that’s saying something. with the way the others grunted, levi decided not to linger on the joke; no one laughed.

he hummed, rubbing his chin. “ i’m afraid i don’t have a map nor any resources to help you lot . . . but i know someone who can. that is . . . if you’re patient enough to talk to a deranged, lonesome hermit leaving deep within the woods ”.

“ fine ”, evangelos snapped. “ lead us to the man. ”

levi smirked. “ pal, balthasar is no man. nor human. not after that wicked witch got him . . . ”.

[writehardwhumpharder]

Carson drabble - gunshot wound and magical exhaustion

Carson has been through some shit. But nothing, nothing, compared to the pain he was in now. He was vaguely aware of Riley standing over him, gunfire crackled from somewhere nearby. Carson was leaning against a wall, hand hovering protectively over his shoulder. Why did it hurt so much? He pulled his hand back to examine it in the low light. Slick, red blood dripped from the fingers on his right hand.

"Am I gonna die?" He asked woozily, the question meant for no one in particular. Riley glanced down at him for a split second.

"Small calibur, clean through, you'll be fine." She said before directing her focus back at the thugs firing at them. They were backed into a corner.

"Hmm" he hummed, "wait..." recognition flashed across Carson's face in a panic, "do you mean I was shot?!"

Riley rolled her eyes. How was she being so casual about this?

"You didn't know that? What did you think happened two minutes ago?" Riley asked, still focused on defending them. Morris stood a little to Carson's right, he knew because he could see his boots out of the corner of his eye. Nothing was making much sense at the moment. His vision blurred abruptly but he blinked it away, fighting to remain in control.

"I don't remember... pain... lots of pain." He muttered in response. Morris snickered. The sound was a slight comfort.

"Geez kid, did you get shot in the head too when I wasn't looking?" He joked, seeing how out of it Carson was. Morris had been with the police for decades so bullet wounds weren't very out of the ordinary for him. Things got dicey sometimes in Brooklyn and he'd seen many men get wounds far worse than Carson's. Most lived, a few didn't.

But Carson didn't live that kind of life. At least not up until a couple weeks ago when he got roped into this stupid case. Carson's eyes widened.

"Oh my god, did I?" He exclaimed, his uninjured arm flying up to his head to check for damage. This time Morris really did laugh. It was the kind of deep, rich laughter that reminded Carson of a warm fire and the scent of fresh baked cookies at the same time. It was entirely possible that Morris had some homemade cookies on him right now, but Carson restrained himself from asking. He had more serious concerns at the moment, like how the entire left side of his shirt was soaked through with blood. If it were a fatal injury there would have been a hell of a lot more of it but since this was easily the most blood Carson has ever lost at one time, it certainly felt like a big deal.

"I've got this, Riley. Make sure he doesn't go into shock or something." Morris commanded. She immediately lowered her gun and crouched in front of Carson.

Even in the dark his face looked shockingly pale and his hair clung to his forehead against clammy skin. She smoothed his hair away gently, noting how the skin on his face was a little cold. Riley frowned.

"Just keep your eyes on me okay?" She instructed. He was having a little difficulty focusing and she saw his eyelids drooping every few seconds. Carson was obviously trying very hard to stay alert.

He felt fuzzy now, blissfully numb. That didn't last long though when Riley folded her scarf to hold down on the entrance and exit wounds. She pushed down on his shoulder putting nearly all of her weight into it. Carson felt every muscle in his body seize up at the sudden pain, a hot burning sensation traveling outward from the gunshot wound. It took a few seconds before he was even able to breathe again. He suddenly understood what people meant when they describe something as a blinding, white pain. Bright spots clouded his vision as he started to slip.

"Hey, eyes on me, Carson." Riley said urgently. "We need to keep pressure on that, and we should probably clean it too. Morris?"

Her partner didn't miss a beat as he pulled a small flask from his jacket pocket and tossed it too her.

"No no no no..." Carson started. His eyes widened in panic as he realized what she was about to do. If there wasn't a wall behind him he would have tried to lean away from her.

"Hold still and stop being a baby." Riley said as he made a feeble attempt to jerk his body out of her grasp. He didn't have the strength to fight her off for long though so he stopped moving, just watching in horror as Riley pulled his jacket off one shoulder. Followed by his shirt which she had to unbutton a bit. Carson wasn't thrilled about that part. He winced when the fabric brushed over his wound.

Riley twisted off the cap on the flask and sniffed it. She shrugged, "this'll do."

"Um, maybe we should let a doctor do that." Carson said shakily.

"If you haven't noticed, there are still people shooting at us and there isn't a doctor here so you're just gonna have to deal with it. It needs to be disinfected, the sooner the better."

Carson knew she was right, but the pain was almost too much to handle already. Pouring hard liquor into the open wound would probably knock him straight out. Maybe it was better if it did...

"Okay, I'm ready." Carson said, holding his sleeved wrist up to his mouth to muffle the sound if he screamed.

But when the liquor touched his skin, he didn't even have the air in his lungs to scream. So much pain flooded in through his nerves that his brain didn't even attempt to process it before shutting down completely.

Carson slumped further down the wall, his head falling forward, Riley cradled it in her hands, patting his face gently to try to rouse him.

"Carson, wake up. Now is not the time for a nap. Open your eyes, Carson." Her voice was surprisingly steady and commanding. As pale and still as he was... he almost looked dead. But she pushed that thought out of her mind.

The gunfire abruptly stopped and Morris leaned carefully to see if their attackers had suddenly grown a conscience and left. Although it was more likely that they simply ran out of bullets.

What he didn't expect to see was, Foster, the leader of the gang, standing in the center of the street. He was a tall man, middle aged, and something in the way he held himself seemed dangerous. The streetlamp above him cast an equally large and menacing shadow. Seeing him out in the open like that was strangely eerie. Morris couldn't have had a clearer shot. It had to be some kind of trick. Morris fired off one round, only for the bullet hit some kind of an invisible wall about a foot in front of the man. The bullet bounced and clattered to the ground as if the shield also absorbed all the force behind it.

"Shit." Morris breathed. They were out of their depth.

"What's going on?" Riley asked, still crouched in front of Carson.

"I think... I think he's using magic." Morris said uncertainly. They both glanced at Carson's unconcious form at the same time. He was the only one who stood a chance against a magical attack, and he was currently passed the hell out and bleeding through the scarf Riley held to his wound.

"We don't have time to be gentle." Morris turned around and approached the two. Riley moved out of his way so he could kneel in front of Carson. Then he slapped him across the face, hard.

Carson's reaction to the sudden blow was slower and weaker than it should have been. But he did manage to open his eyes, nevertheless.

"What... where...?" Carson slurred, looking around them, trying to remember how they got there. The ever present pain in his shoulder served as a harsh reminder, bringing him back to reality.

"Listen Carson, Foster is here with his thugs and he's using magic. We need you to do your thing and get us out of here." Morris said.

Carson frowned. It seemed like an awful lot to ask of a man who was one scrape shy of bleeding out. He'd taken on Foster once before and got his ass kicked. With the state he was in he couldn't see this going well, but he wasn't about to quit now.

"I'll try, I guess...." he said sounding less than confident, "help me up."

Riley raised her gun to cover them as Morris pulled him to his feet. Then slid an arm around his waist to hold him up, carrying most if not all of Carson's weight. Not that it was any trouble for the older detective, Carson couldn't have weighed more than 145 lbs by the feel of it. Morris could bench press more than that. He helped Carson walk a few steps to the opening of the alleyway. The motion should have been awkward and strained but Carson found himself needing help often enough that it was practically second nature for the both of them.

When Carson took a careful glance at the side street, Foster was still standing in the same spot in the middle of the side street, looking far too relaxed for Carson's liking. Warning bells rang through the fog in his head as he realized that the gang leader was giving them time to prepare themselves. He could only hope that the man was just that cocky. Otherwise he had an ace up his sleeve and Carson didn't have the first idea what it was.

It took a few seconds for Carson to focus on the energies around them. Their fate depended entirely on how much residual life energy was left in the area. Unlike regular magic users like Foster, Carson couldn't simply tap into some well of power. He could only use the energy from a person's soul. Usually that meant his own but he needed all of his energy to stay standing so he had to draw in all the bits and pieces of other people's souls, convert that into kinetic energy, THEN reshape that energy into whatever magical construct he was aiming for. It was a tedious process but it didn't take him long to gather in the power and prepare it for a defensive shield. Carson felt his body temperature rise with the foreign energy running through him. The more he used, the worse it would get.

Since Foster was apparently waiting for him to make the first move, Carson shouted out to him from behind the protection of the thick, stone wall rather than unleashing random bursts of energy at him.

"I know what this is about. You don't want anyone investigating your gang and challenging your power. You'll get rid of any obstacles in your way." Carson said as loud as he could manage.

"That's right. I warned you to stay out of it, and yet here you are." Foster responded. His voice was cold and venomous. The sound sent a shiver up Carson's spine.

"Well we don't always get what we want."

Carson, against his better judgment, peeled off from Morris and hobbled out in the open, facing Foster head on. There was no sense in all of them getting hurt. His knees threatened to buckle with the first step but he pushed through and didn't stop until he stood on the white lines in the center of the street. He didn't look particularly threatening at an inch or two below average height with a slim frame that didn't amount to much muscle, and on top of that he was now cradling his arm to his chest weakly, trying to take the pressure of his wounded shoulder.

There was a sudden crack as a gun was fired. Worried that if he hit the ground to avoid it he might not be able to get up again, Carson forced himself to stand still. Foster snarled in obvious pain as blood started to stain one of his pant legs, but he didn't falter. Morris took the shot while Foster was too distracted by Carson's idiotic move to reveal himself.

The gang leader's face twisted in anger and pain as he made his own hand into the shape of a gun, aimed at Carson's head. Foster didn't hesitate. He unleashed a torrent of power through his index finger. The sound it made was somewhere between a gunshot and the crack of thunder. Just standing was draining a considerable amount of his energy, so using magic to block the attack was enough to make Carson sway where he stood. He'd be lucky if he had the power to attack him once, so he had to make this good. Carson wracked his mind for an idea. That's when it hit him.

He was playing Foster's game, trying to match his use of magic. What he really needed to do was throw something at him that Foster wouldn't expect. Something he didn't have the skill to defend himself against and couldn't throw back at him. What Foster had in raw power, Carson would make up for with skill. Another bolt of power surged toward him and Carson narrowly avoided it by staggering to one side.

What he was about to do broke every unofficial rule of magic along with a few moral ones but he didn't have much of a choice. They were backed into a corner here and his friends were counting on him. Carson had only tried it a couple times before on stray cats but it had to work. Time sort of slowed down as Carson narrowed his focus. He closed his eyes so Foster wouldn't see them cloud over.

If the entrance to a person's mind was a door, Foster's was lined with steel and bolted with padlocks. But with some effort he pushed past the man's defenses. The man was utterly unprepared for it, which is exactly what Carson was counting on. He had no idea what it must look like on the outside as his vision darkened except for the occasional spot of light. He might as well have been floating in outer space.

Foster's consciousness was murky and Carson didn't have the best hold on him, but he was in. All he had to do now was throw a dam in his stream of consciousness to disable him long enough for them to escape. Grabbing at his last threads of magical energy, Carson envisioned what he wanted and willed it into being. Using magic in a person's mind was purely mental and he had to focus hard to shape that energy into something that would temporarily block the thoughts passing through Foster's mind besides the most basic functions.

When he opened his eyes again his vision was blurring dangerously but he could just barely make out Foster's limp body on the ground somewhere in front of him. The gentle rise and fall of his chest was subtle, but it was there, confirming that he had in fact left him alive and breathing as he intended.

Blood roared through Carson's ears suddenly, creating a heavy pressure in his head. It was similar to the dizzy feeling you get when you stand up too fast. Only this time the heaviness was determined to drag him all the way to the ground. His face flushed with cold as the blood drained out of his head and he fell forward, too weak to do anything about it. Carson collapsed with a moan, feeling frantic hands try to break his fall as the ground rushed towards him.

[betterthan777]

>Fight.

The music was thrumming. The Animal Fights had happened, unsurprisingly lost by the fuckers who didn’t even deserve a chance to win their freedom. Your tigers had been hungry. At least they weren’t any more.

It felt strange to be here, behind the gate, in the lower chambers of the Arena and looking out into the pit. It kind of smelled down here, like burnt meat and sweat and death. It tickled your nose but you didn’t pay any mind to it. You were busy opening and balling your hands, bouncing on the balls of your feet, doing everything you could to psyche yourself up. You were nervous.

Why were you nervous?

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Tonight we have a very special show! Joining us from her twisted metal throne, all the way from the Bunker of Lady’s Manor, give it up for the One, the Only, Our Beloved Gambling Queen:

Spin!”

The gate in front of you seized for a moment before sucking up into the ceiling of its mechanism. Your blood runs cold and for a moment you consider backing up, but the roar of the crowd and the pulse of the music draws you out of the wings and into the center of the arena. When they saw you, they cheered louder; a cacophony of noise that would be deafening if you weren’t a couple of storeys beneath the bleachers. You walk out triumphantly already, hamming it up with your arms raised and a stupid grin gashed from ear to ear. You roll your wrists, encouraging more noise and they give it to you. You can see on the board already that people are buying weapons and items, there’s lights on the Queue but you can’t tell what they mean from here.

The announcer continues her duties, commentating the other Combatants who were ready to fight. The November Champion had lost his freedom due to a fucking stupid action of killing the guard who was releasing him. You’d be fighting him tonight, which you were stoked about. There was another fighter, one that had been out for a number of weeks because of a bad injury. They wanted to win so that they could qualify for freedom for December. You almost felt bad for them, but you weren’t going to let yourself feel any guilt. Wolves did not concern themselves with the safety of Sheep.

Much to your dismay, the announcer stops at two combatants. You frown.

Before the gates go up you wave and signal to the announcer to drop the mic. She pauses the release of the combatants and a single mic reels down into the center of the arena. You take the several steps towards it and take it in your hand.

“Now, this hardly seems fair,” You pause, earning a round of jeering and cheering. The Boo’s outweighed the hurrahs and it made your face flush with excitement. You pull the mic in towards your mouth again. “two against one? Those odds aren’t really even, now are they?” More boo’s, more cheers of people who knew what you were playing at. You pump up the crowd, mouthlessly asking ‘what?’ and putting your hand behind your ear. Under the blacklight of the arena, your Siren Markings glowed brighter than the UV paint on your face.

“I think we should level the playingfield a bit, don’t you baby?” You ask to the Announcer, a young woman named Joyce. She looks confused for a moment before leaning into her own microphone.

“What were you thinking, your Majesty?”

“Oh, I don’t know…….. Maybe two? Three more combatants? What do you say honey?”

The crowd went wild. It rung in your ears and it made you dizzy with the noise. You laugh into the microphone, chuckling at the energy pouring down at you. You let go of the microphone and it reels itself back up and disappears into the darkness beyond what you can see. The audience is throwing things into the arena now, nothing of any particular use but they’re bypassing the drop. Maybe you’d get lucky and someone would sacrifice one of their personal guns for you. Who knows!

You make your way to the side of the Arena, putting your back against the only wall without a gate on it. The announcer goads the audience, asking rhetorical questions to psyche them up. ‘Should we do it? Should we throw in more combatants? I really don’t think we should keep our Queen waiting. What do you say?’. It’s like music to your ears. The spaces under your fingernails itch and you want to dig them deep into someone’s eyeball, pop it, squish it, maybe even break through the bone behind it and fingerfuck their brain a little. Sounded like fun.

        The uproar reaches its peak and you see 5 of the gates on the other end of the Arena open. It isn’t a moment before the Gladi8tors, 2 men, 2 women, and someone who didn’t cooperate when your guards asked what they were (not that it mattered, really), came pouring out in a tangled cloud of limbs and violence. You stay where you are, across the Arena from them, and under the drop point for the first item. A buzzer sounds, a green beam is shone into the arena surrounding you in spotlight. The first item drops and you can already taste Lady Luck’s lips on yours. It fills you with ecstasy.

From heaven drops an assault rifle, an expensive purchase. You grab it off the ground, check its clip, and ready it. 3 shots. You switch it to single-shot and raise it, taking aim. The first bullet pops off and buries itself in the November Champion’s shin. You think you hear the bone snap as he stumbles and goes down but you don’t have time to waste on observation. Pop. Pop. You take out two more legs, shifting your metal hand to grab the muzzle of the rifle. The leather of your glove singes from the heat but you follow-through and use the ass of the rifle to clock one of the girls in the jaw like a Major League Batter. She goes recoilling and hits the dirt, kicking up particulates that shimmer like glitter in the blacklight.      One of the men manages to get in close enough to grab you, panicked hands on your shoulder gripping for angry life. You grip back, grabbing his arm with your left and twisting. The servos in your robotics whir and whine as you slowly torque his shoulder out of place. It cracks with a sickening pop and he screams so loudly that it almost deafens you. With your right hand, you punch him in the fucking face and let him drop.

All five combatants were in different places, writhing on the ground and groaning. You admire your handiwork and take a moment to pander to the crowd, stepping towards those who had been shot and raising your arms. You turned in a slow spin as you walked, looking up towards the rim of the Arena and soaking in your inevitable victory. The cheers turn sour. No. They turn into concern. Your brow twists and you look down, just in time for the November Champion to slug you in the head. Pain radiates up the back of your skull and you hit the ground, hard. There’s not even time to recover before he’s on you and he’s pinning, digging his knees into your ribs and stomach and just wailing on your head. You manage to get your arms up between the first and third punch, but he continues to pound and tries to knock your arms away.

After absorbing a dozen or so blows, you’re getting tired. He’s strong and he’s crushing your lungs. You claw at him with your right hand and all of your markings glow a bright and sickly purple-white. You snap a command at him:

“Kill someone else.”

     He almost resists, another fist finding your jaw, but then he gets up. The wind rushes back into you and you roll, trying to get to your hands and knees and back to your feet before someone else comes for you. The Champion grabbed the face of the woman who was rushing in, slamming the back of her head into the dirt hard enough that her head deformed under the thick meat of his palm. He did this a few more times, even when it just became him pounding wet chunks into the dirt. Yeesh.

Another buzzer sounded, the spotlight appearing closer to the nobody than anyone else. They were on the ground, fervently trying to stop their leg from bleeding and crying to themselves, but when they saw the light they started scrambling towards it. The item dropped. You started rushing over, even though there was no way in hell you were getting there before they did. You almost make it but they make it first, grabbing up the gift and rolling onto their back. In their hands is a stungun, and they have it aimed square at you.

They squeeze the trigger and you manage to duck. You fold forwards and roll onto your shoulder towards them. You hear a shout of agony from behind you and the thud of a body convulsing on the ground from the voltage. You spare just a moment to look: the girl you’d batted in the face got the tazer pins directly to the forehead. You almost feel bad. In a continuation of your momentum you move over to the asshole with the stungun and climb on top of them. They struggle and tear at you with broken nails, pounding your legs as you straddle their stomach and trying to claw at your face. You’re good at avoiding their hands and knocking them away; you only get superficial scratches to the bits of skin that were exposed in the first place.

“Just… stay...still!” You mutter as you ride their bucking and attempts to knock you off. Your fingers wrap around their temples and you begin to press your thumbs into their eyes. The left one pops quicker, the metal spike of your thumb helping it along. It spurts at you with blood and fluids and the person in your hands starts screaming and gripping at your wrists. You hush them and keep the pressure on. The right one pops and you feel it squish and catch under your nail, splitting like an overripe and peeled grape. They’re flailing now, screaming like a maniac as you continue to squeeze and press, digging your nails into the sides and back of their head as you go. You’re just about through the bone behind their eyes when you’re grabbed and ripped off of them, your thumbs coming free with a wet pop.

You’re thrown back by the Champion, newly covered with blood that looked as dark as ink under the blacklight. He doesn’t spare a moment to put the fucker with no eyes out of their misery, he just comes at you with a glinting weapon in his hand: a machete. Your eyes widen. Oh shit.

He brings it down fast, almost knocking you in the head but you manage to roll out of the way just in time. It catches some of your hair and leaves it lying on the dirt and ground. You feel your pumper racing in your chest. Getting back up to your feet took long enough for him to draw back the machete and swing again. This time you catch it with your left hand, locking your metal digits around it to try and pull it from his roid-rage muscular hands. He pulls it, and you, with so much ease that you wonder if you even weigh anything.

He grabs you by the throat and, thankfully, you don’t panic. Even as he begins to lift up up above his head, you just curls your fingers around his hand and try to keep your neck from snapping until you get into a position where you can kick the living shit out of his face. You kick a good five times before you feel his front teeth cave and his nose snap, and he lets you go. You see stars as you hit the dirt, but you don’t let it stop you. As you move you wobble, but you manage to grab the machete’s blade and once again attempt to yank it free. This time he’s stunned-- it works.

You rip it out, grab the handle with your right hand, and bring it up in an arc. It glides like a hot knife through butter, cutting a gash several inches deep in his throat. He gurgles on his own blood and stumbles before falling back, arching and writhing as he presses at his gratuitously bleeding wound. You don’t have time to make sure he’s dead, you walk back over to the fucker with no eyes. They’ve scrambled backwards, leaving a dark trail behind them, and they’re pressed against the wall. You feel like a monster for a moment before you remember reading this piece of garbage’s profile. They’d murdered a woman and her child for their money, broken into your Casino, and killed the blackjack dealer when they lost it all. You bring your foot down on their chest and knock the air out of them so they can’t whimper or plead.

You bring the Machete up and use the full force of your left arm to bring it back down. It severs the twig of this ingrate’s arm just below the shoulder and embeds itself in the ground. They try to scream again and you kick it out of them, kneeling on their legs and grabbing their head once more. Their remaining hand pushes at your face but it’s not strong enough to hurt at all and it’s slick with blood so it can’t find a hold in the first place.

You jab your thumbs back into the shredded and pulpy sockets of their gunk-filled eyes and you go at it. The bone cracks and you feel your thumbs slip into the cavity behind it. Curling your thumbs and changing where you were gripping, you hook behind their sockets and yank upwards. Their sockets snap and they gurgle out shrill cries. You must’ve fucked up because they fall slack and you’re hit with a little bit of disappointment. You didn’t get to torment them as much as you wanted to. Brains were fickle.

     Releasing your prey, you stand and examine the arena. The girl who had been electrocuted in the face was either dead or unconscious. The other man, the one who’d been shot, was just lying there subdued. If he weren’t also horrible, you’d consider letting him go. As it was you two were the only two left alive, so you sauntered over to him. He tried to scramble back when you approached but you reached forward and grabbed his hair, pulling him up into a sitting position. You rubbed the bottom of your nose with the back of your blood-covered hand, stopping the itch but smearing your face with viscera.

“Look. Get a good hit, right here,” You tap your cheek with your knuckles in a fake punch. “I’ll let you have it. A consolation prize. Just fucking slug me, alright?” He looks confused and hurt and angry, wincing at your metal digits twisting in his locks. He pulls back his arm to punch you and before it can connect you being his face down on your knee, letting him splay back. He sputtered and clutched the broken mass of bones helplessly, crying and sobbing like a little bitch. You straighten up, raise your arms to the cheering madness of the crowd, and walk over. With a roar you bring your boot down, crushing his windpipe and snapping his neck from the force.

The Round Buzzer sounds. Medical staff rush in from the gates to begin to gather the bodies. One of them tries to come to you but you wave them off. The Eridium was still healing you, you barely felt a thing.

“THAT’S IT! IT’S OVER! OUR QUEEN WINS! LET’S HAVE A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR HER FEROCITY IN BATTLE, SHALL WE!?” Joyce screams over the mic system. 

        You don’t stay to gloat, or bow, or absorb the admiration. You just quietly make your way out the Gate you came in through, and when you’re out of sight you collapse. One of your medical staff rush up to you and get your arm around their neck and lead you off to the small med bay within the guts of the Arena.

                               --You don’t have any fight left in you to protest.

[writerspink]

K-12 Words

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1.1

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2.1

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2.2

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3.1

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3.2

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4.1

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4.2

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5.1

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5.2

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6.1

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6.2

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7.1

capture remark western outcome risk current bold compare resident ambition arrest furthermore desire confuse accurate disclose considerable contribute calculate baggage literacy noble era benefit orchard shabby content precious manufacture dusk afford assist demonstrate instant concentrate sturdy severe blend vacant weary carefree host limb pointless prepare inspire shallow chamber vast ease attentive source frantic lack recent distress basic permit threat analyze distract meadow mistrust jagged prefer sole envy hail reduce arena tour annual apparent recognize captivity burrow proceed develop humble resist peculiar response communicate circular variety frequent reveal essential disaster plead mature appropriate attractive request congratulate address destructive fragile modest attempt tradition ancestor focus flexible conclude venture impact generosity routine tragic crafty furious blossom concern ascend awkward master queasy release portion plentiful alert heroic extraordinary frontier descend invisible coax entrance capable peer terror mock outstanding valiant typical competition hardship entertain eager limp survive tidy antonym duplicate abolish approach approve glory magnificent meek prompt revive watchful wreckage audible consume glide origin prevent punctuate representative scorn stout woe arch authentic clarify declare grant grave opponent valid yearn admirable automatic devotion distant dreary exhaust kindle predict separation stunt

7.2

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8.1

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8.2

exclude civic compact painstaking supplement habitat leeway minute hoax contaminate likeness migration commentary extinct tangible originate urban unanimous subordinate collaborate obstacle esteem encounter futile cordial trait improvises superior exaggerate anticipate cope evolve eclipse dissent anguish subsequent sanctuary formulates makeshift controversy diversity terminate precise equivalent pamper prior potential obnoxious radiant predatory presume permanent pending simultaneously tamper supervise perceived vicious patronize trickle stodgy rant oration preview species poised perturb vista wince yearn persist shirk status tragedy trivial snare vindictive wrath recede peevish rupture unscathed random toxic void orthodox subtle resume sequel upright wary overwhelm perjury uncertainty prowess utmost throb pluck pique vengeance pelt urgent substantial robust sullen retort ponder whim saga sham reprimand vocation assimilate dub defect accord embark desist dialect chastise banter inaugurate ovation barter muse blasé stamina atrocity deter principal liberal epoch preposterous advocate audacious dispatch incense deplore institute deceptive component subside spontaneous bonanza ultimate wrangle clarify hindrance irascible plausible profound infinite accomplish apparent capacity civilian conceal duplicate keen provoke spurt undoing vast withdraw barrier calculate compose considerable deputy industrious jolt loot rejoice reliable senseless shrivel alternate demolish energetic enforce feat hearty mature observant primary resign strive verdict brisk cherish considerate displace downfall estimate humiliate identical improper poll soothe vicinity abolish appeal brittle condemn descend dictator expand famine portable prey thrifty visual

9.1

stance vie instill exceptional avail strident formidable rebuke enhance benign perspective tedious aloof encroach memoir mien desolate inventive prodigy staple stint fallacy grope vilify recur assail tirade antics recourse clad jurisdiction caption pseudonym reception humane ornate sage ungainly overt sedative amiss convey connoisseur rational enigma fortify servile fastidious contagious elite disgruntled eccentric pioneer abet luminous era sleek serene proficient rue articulate awry pungent wage deploy anarchy culminate inventory commemorate muster adept durable foreboding lucrative modify authority transition confiscate pivotal analogy avid flair ferret decree voracious imperative grapple deface augment shackle legendary trepidation discern glut cache endeavor attribute phenomenon balmy bizarre gullible loll rankle decipher sublime rubble renounce porous turbulent heritage hover pithy allot minimize agile renown fend revenue versa gaunt haven dire doctrine intricate conservative exotic facilitate bountiful cite panorama swelter foster indifferent millennium gingerly conscientious intervene mercenary citadel obviously rely supportive sympathy weakling atmosphere decay gradual impact noticeable recede stability variation approximately astronomical calculation criterion diameter evaluate orbit sphere agricultural decline disorder identify probable thrive expected widespread bulletin contribution diversity enlist intercept operation recruit survival abruptly ally collide confident conflict protective taunt adaptation dormant forage frigid hibernate insulate export glisten influence landscape native plantation restore urge blare connection errand exchange

9.2

feasible teem pang vice tycoon succumb capacious onslaught excerpt eventful forfeit crusade tract haggard susceptible exemplify ardent crucial excruciating embargo disdain apprehend surpass sporadic flustered languish conventional disposition theme plunder ignore project complaint title dramatic delivery litter experimental clinic arrogance preparation remind atomic occasional conscious deny maturity closure stressed translator animate observation physical further gently registration suppress combination amazing constructive allied poetry passion ecstasy mystery cheerful contribution spirit failed gummy commerce prove disagreement raid consume embarrass preference migrant devour encouragement quote mythology destined destination illuminating struggle accent ungrateful giggle approval confidence expose scientist operation superstitious emergency manners absolutely swallow readily mutual bound crisp orient stress sort stare comfort verbal heel challenging advertisement envious sex scar astonish basis accuracy enviable alliance specific chef embarrassed counter tolerable sympathetic gradually vanish informative amaze royal furry insist jealousy simplify quiver collaborate dedicated flexible function mimic obstacle technique archaeologist fragment historian intact preserve reconstruct remnant commence deed exaggeration heroic impress pose saunter wring astound concealed inquisitive interpret perplexed precise reconsider suspicious anticipation defy entitled neutral outspoken reserved sought equal absorb affect circulate conserve cycle necessity seep barren expression meaningful plume focused genius perspective prospect stunned superb transition assume guarantee nominate

10.1

install reticent corroborate regretfully strength murder concise cunning intention holy satire query confused progression disillusion background mundane abrupt multiple enormously introduce emulate harmful pragmatic pity rebut liberate enthusiastic elucidate camaraderie disparage nature creep profitability impression racist sobriety occupy autonomy currently amiable reiterate reproduce cripple modest offer atom provincial augment ungratefully expansion yield rashly allude immigration silence epitome exacerbate somber avid dispute vindicate collaborate manufacturer embellish superficial propaganda incompetent objective diminish statistics endure ambivalent perpetuate illuminate phenomenon exasperate originality restrict anxiety anthropology circumstances aesthetic manufacturing conventional dubious vulnerable reality precedent entity success term critical repair underscore stepmother republican hesitantly classic wary contents prediction immediate invoke notorious implicit excluding input skeptical foster element punish frank humanity profound dessert orthodox substance disappear encourage neighborhood elder superfluous naive ascertain complacent resilient deafening military tend prudent glare acceptance skillfully induce monster beam gullible conciliate vessel petty cantankerous disclose archaeology anecdote disdain electronics substantiate subjective tourism advisable joyful incredible provocative psychological ruins discipline condone indifferent misfortune judgmental industrialize tasty assume astute mission mar protective definitely escape oppress shocked virtual zealous endorse qualification hostile eccentric abstract disparate geographical scrutinize generalization tolerate activity claim dogmatic influential obsolete extol implausible subsequent resource chronic benevolent improve confidential ambiguous seriously dearth perplex hatred throughout dine contemporary evoke essentially economic flagrant obscure alleviate eloquent dreaadful clumsy sympathy victim condemn vigor condescend spontaneous quell reprehensible substantially sleeve equivocal ironic decry errand articulate progressive eradicate refreshments elicit aspiration recently exemplary bribery theoretical disingenuous partisan revere particle nostalgia self-aggrandizement debunk tyranny rhetoric hierarchy warning whimsical venerate commend assert miserable awful vibe constrain undermine explicit differentiate compliment scrupulous contempt erroneous ideal refute imply cynical rash presume insight revival vary delay renounce indignant offensive temperate circumstantial export peep logo advertise suppress distort chunk convoluted denounce overwhelming fertility rigorous acquire arrogant university antagonize profitable indulgent strategic breathing idiosyncrasy profession frugal discern accommodation adversary incredulous disturbance digress social belie roam smug continual pertinent voluntarily elite subtle blame sincerity lick horror censure involvement candid infer futile impetuous exploit bewilder sustain diligent sincere protect sealed musical empathy callous parenthetical insure acorn sarcasm seize sacrificially allege emphatic irrelevant progress diplomatic stunned improvise deride reconcile meticulous deject scientifically incontrovertible pressure justify gloomy depict supplant endurance analogous diary bolster slip contemplate pesticide glow religious advocate negligent creator lament fundamental embrace throne inherent inferior valuable thrive trivial pretense reserved capricious refresh refusal flight boost explanation coherent prevalent tenacious official royalty assassin rub poach delete

10.2

warrant circumscribed somewhat explosive optimistic mandate previously detract opinion intuitive feasible intimate persistent humble simplicity tempt deliberate painful unethical fundamentals discrepancy remorse pessimistic possibility conclusion acknowledge impregnate soberly creation paralyze suitability oblige tranquil medal arbitrate pacify illusory susceptible vibrate vengeance infection democratic stressful grave speculative sample identification stifle obligation revenge organization namely mediocre practical scream weaken consensus affectionate deficient treacherous console isolation ingenious memory melodrama despair awestruck composition regret recommendation celebrity decision devoid opaque ornamentation longevity participate dread restore interrogate aid accordingly mislead embarrassment optimism domestic apt funds virtue geography fundamentally thoroughly press despite horrible chilling rental esteemed disappointment innovative contemplation assign popularize haunt deafen serene percent estrangement suffer extravagant throng estimate comment priesthood mass dreadfully promote periphery animated saying relate clarity triple derivative succeed distortion register suicide improvement discreet inquisition probable curative incident praise convenience baffle covet dreadful genuinely weary undisturbed disgruntled humility renown nonchalant monopoly comedy vague decisive inconsequential announcement fabricated nevertheless vigilant scarce neglectful hushed attainment tedious explode snatch pslm agency sentimental tension adhere meanwhile sacred avert conformity likewise challenger accessible responsibility peril contact event roast fallible catastrophic competitor violate resolute deceive exaggeration discredit intolerable approve paste dimly novelist demeanor norm politician satisfaction obvious vehicle reservation defer involve restoration crush audible assistant backpack attain inanimate commemorate confrontation emigration parasite disperse quantitative laughter policy vulgar occasionally repay effective eulogy starvation empty therapeutic overall immortal encompass inappropriate opportune engagement illustrate turmoil observatory classification expression reminiscence comedian invention depress remedy protagonist gesture texture diplomatic election prolong conducive emotional invigorate curiosity expressive %

K-12 Words was originally published on PinkWrite

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Paging Dr.Hart | Nineteen

The cold wind whipped harshly against my cheek as I held the stretcher steady, the frigid rain pushed against our jackets and stung against our skin as we pressed forward. My throat was dry despite the amount of moisture in the air. I didn't want to see what was on the other side of this crowd, but Tyler plowed through them quickly.

The smell of blood was what hit me almost instantly, its metallic stature making my stomach turn with each breath I took. I refused to look towards the covered up body that rested under a white sheet. Thick crimson was soaking through where the unfortunate placement of wind moved the fabric towards the wounds.

There was no helping the man under the sheet, nor his family that was bound to get a call within the next hour. There was no saving the company that maintains the bridge, or the law makers who abide by the work safety laws. But there was one thing to be saved.

"Helbig," Zoe's voice disrupted my morbid thoughts as I nodded towards Tyler to keep heading towards the car of people and the woman who needed it most. I grimaced slightly, the last time Zoe had called me over, I ended up with a nasty bruise and the death of 15 people on my hands.

"Yeah, Zo?" I raised an eyebrow as she glanced back towards the man under the sheet, "Don't worry, you're not tagging today."

That furthered my grimace, but Zoe didn't seem to notice. Like Liam, she lacked the basic skill of picking up on certain body language. She instructed me calmly while checking her clipboard, which I was sure she wouldn't be able to see considering the mist from the lake and the low cloud cover.

She herded me towards a group of people with simple lacerations and a few broken bones. They were spooked... anyone would be if a city issued worker quite literally fell from the sky and derailed their cars.

Of course, they only had eyes for themselves, wondering how soon they'd be stitched up, or put in a cast. They didn't think of the partner that this man left behind, or the kids he may have had. But I shouldn't be one to judge. If I hadn't been accustomed to the constant presence of death in my life, I would be in the same mindset.

None the less, I agreed and pulled my orange medical bag over my shoulder as I begun working on the woman closest to me as she sat on the divider that stood in the middle of the bridge. She was shaken up, her hands trembling as blood pooled at a cut above her brow. A bruise started to form along her collarbone where the airbag must have made contact with her skin.

"He's not going to be okay," she sniffed while I pulled the purple latex gloves over my hands, I glanced at her sadly for a moment as I pulled out the cotton balls and peroxide "He... um... he came out of nowhere,"

She drew in a small breath as I guided her chin toward me; she flinched away from the cotton ball with the icy liquid that coated it. Her wound fizzled under the alcohol. "Maybe if I had been-"she trailed off.

Had been what? She couldn't change the way the cable snapped, or the way the man fell to his death. "Don't do that," I mumbled, breaking my silent streak "you were at the wrong place at the wrong time,"

She nodded, wincing in pain as the dried blood pulled at her skin.

"You can nod all you want," I gave her a small smile, "I know what you're thinking, but you were at the wrong place at the wrong time. You're lucky to have escaped with only a few injuries."

"But his family..."

"What about your family? A pretty girl like you must have a partner, or at least someone she's interested in." she blushed slightly at my offhanded compliment "all you can do is get a taxi home, and be thankful that only one person died today. Not two."

She swallowed roughly as I went back to cleaning her cut, but I had to admit. It was hard not to glance back at the man under the sheet and wonder what he had on his mind when he hit the ground.

I sat awkwardly across from Hannah, picking at the nail on my thumb as I glanced up at her every once and while. Our breath was thick as the silence engulfed us, the meals that sat on the table barely being eaten. It had been a rough day for the both of us.

We decided to stay in, and cook tonight, which was light hearted and a fun way to pass time. But now that we had a finished product, and an empty silence,

The past two weeks had been of the same manor. We had both been distracting ourselves with our work, and avoiding the very large elephant in the room. Hannah wanted to talk about it, despite making it quite clear that she would wait as long as it took for me to be comfortable with the subject.

"Han," I said, cracking the silence.

"Yeah?" She raised her eyes from her own plate, knitting her eyebrows together to form that little crease between them. She sat back in her chair for a moment when she saw the serious look on my face. "You okay, Gracie?"

"I um," I paused, placing my fork down "I think we should talk about it now."

Hannah stopped crunching on her food this time, clearing her throat before reaching over at me, placing her palm in my open one as she squeezed it slightly "You don't have to," She murmured, stroking her thumb across mine "I don't want to pressure you into something like this,"

"Oh, so it's okay to pressure me into other things?" I cocked an eyebrow, a small smile playing at my lips.

"No, I mean, you... I walked into that one."

"Yeah," I blew a puff of air from my nose "you did."

The thick silence returned to the night before I spoke again, drawing in a breath "the point is, I'm ready to talk about it... on my own accord."

"Well, Gracie." She pursed her lips "I'm ready to listen."