a fist full of sand// nocturne

a fist full of sand// nocturne Jun 27, 2014 23:56:24 GMT -5

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Post by L△LIA on Jun 27, 2014 23:56:24 GMT -5

This is what a miracle feels like, he supposes. The sound of raging wagon wheels and Dan's maniacal shouts are still roaring in his ears and yet he's alive somehow, passed over with nothing more than a little extra damage to his ego. Considering the state he's in, the Vargas boy isn't much in the mood to strut anyhow, limping along with a winding, pathetic kind of twist to his steps. Every now and then one foot will slip against the sand and he thinks the world might be crashing down upon him, his bones jolting and still bleeding wounds screaming in defiance of his silently clenched jaw.

He thinks he can hold the pain in, resolutely convinced he has suffered worse before now. Whether or not that's true or just another one of his infinite lies, this so-called miracle still feels pretty godawful. Honestly, he doesn't even know how bad the damage from the Bloodbath was, too scared to look down. (For the record: he has several cuts and bruises, a wickedly deep gash on his already permanently damaged left leg, and an oozing stab wound to his stomach that he'd probably faint from looking at too closely. It's certainly not unimpressive that he's kept walking.)

Breathing gets a little easier as the panic fades from his steps, but he's exhausted and the closest thing to company he has in this desert is the occasional sun bleached cow skull laying half-buried in the sand. He entertains himself by periodically leaving messages scrawled in the sand for other Tributes who might be passing by —

Haven't seen a wool suit or a fancy party for miles, Vargas.

Maiden May, you had better smile if you read this. The time for serious faces is never.

I've got more bruises, Leon. You promised to make them better.

Grandmas juggle better than Sonja Arcopello.

Dan Johnwayne better run!

— and after a while he begins collecting cattle skulls as a way to convince himself he's not going in circles again, that each new skull is definitely different from the last, unceremoniously shoving them into a particularly fancy-looking saddlebag he managed to grab in the earlier fight for supplies. He has two by the time he finally sees a face that's living, stuttering to a halt and freezing with renewed terror.

With a racing heart and gasping lungs, he wonders if Erebus's face is a mirage or if he really does get to live two miracles in one day. The voice reaching out to him doesn't sound like his imagination though, so Nocturne continues shambling forward, collapsing to the ground next to him more than sitting. "Y'oughta see the other guy," he drawls with a smirk that's too strained around the edges to be as believable as usual. The attempt at humor falls away completely as Erebus begins checking his wounds, the poking and prodding wrenching his face into an admission of the pain he's been ignoring.

A cringing groan of misery is interrupted by the sound of beeping — quiet in the distance, but growing louder and louder — a sponsorship package falling from the sky that looks much larger than a Tribute like the Vargas boy warrants. Either that training score of his must be worth more than he though or someone in the Capitol has been won over by his ridiculous and highly questionable charms. The contents range from a couple of medkits that are incredibly useful and relevant to what should be his current concerns, to the nearly useless things that hold his attention more than anything else: a light brown ten gallon cowboy hat and red paisley bandana.

The hat just-so-happens to match the color of his belt buckle perfectly and he manages a laugh, wondering if maybe — just maybe — the conversation this morning with his Stylist might have had a little something to do with this. Pulling the hat onto his head and tying the bandana around his neck (all while studiously ignoring the way the later just-so-happens to match the color of the blood spattered all over his clothing), he still can't decide if this is a series of miracles or not. "Much better." Stab wounds and gashes aside, whatever this is — death-defying escapes, familiar faces filled with concern, support from the kind of strangers who used to overlook him completely — it's not such a bad feeling.

[Picks up two Cow Skulls]
[Receives First Aid for -3]
[Receives a Ten Gallon Hat, Red Paisley Bandana, Cooking Pot, Rope, Duct Tape, and two Medkits via sponsorship]
[Gives one Medkit to Erebus]
[Erebus uses N/T and 5ft of bandages on Nocturne for -6]