find the few living things [cowboys . day 1]

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pogue
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1,811 POSTS

Pronouns: He/Him
last seen Apr 16, 2024 18:41:45 GMT -5

Is she trying to interrupt our henna session?

find the few living things [cowboys . day 1] Jun 29, 2022 14:12:44 GMT -5

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Post by pogue on Jun 29, 2022 14:12:44 GMT -5

T E X

"Stick close."

He spits out obvious words like they mean anything, the lantern light bouncing against his skin as he looks back towards his allies. The cave plays tricks on them as they walk, footsteps off in the distance followed by something sinister stepping close behind them followed by the shadows playing dirty tricks, dancing against the cave walls and pulling forth every bloody fear from the depth of his gut, sinister and cruel and everything true. Every breath feels like a betrayal as they walk, only the light of their lanterns as a guide and their delusion as armor against what lies ahead, lungs sitting frozen in his chest.

It's only when the light at the end of the harsh tunnel finally breaks that he feels himself breathe again, air escaping from dying lungs and slipping between split lips. He feels his body heave and sigh in response to him stumbling out into the light, half-hearted patched up gash on his back threatening to split and bloom underneath the sunlight whenever he moves his back too quickly. With every step it feels like the arena around them seems to open further, bare its fangs in the form of blooming flowers and dancing shadows, threatening to swallow them all whole and spit out only bone and marrow.

He gulps, swallows. grips the sickle in his grasp a little bit tighter before finally slowing to a halt outside of the cave, far enough away to not be noticeable. It's there that he drops his bag and collapses onto one of the nearby rocks jutting out from the entrance, eyes lingering on the sign above that seems to jut in and out of the rocks. He grimaces, chews on the thoughts and the memories of the different sounds and sights he'd heard when traversing the cave tunnels.

Not all of them could be chalked up to a hyper imagination, he was smart enough to know that.

"Kip-" He finally says, cutting off his own thoughts with a voice that slips out as something of a low growl, singing his lips on the way out. "You stayed at the tavern longer than both Cain and I combined." He says, arching an eyebrow before letting it fall. "You've got balls." He glances at the cuts and gashes and bruises that litter his ally's form now, seeping red and black and everything in between as he moves towards him and pulls the bandages out from his bag, stretching what limited knowledge he had of healing out into something useful.

"We're alive." It's more convincing himself now, wrapping the bandages around a newfound gash in Kip's arm. "How are you both feeling?" He asks, gaze darting between Kip and Caine and the scars found between all three of them.

Last Edit: Jun 29, 2022 14:15:05 GMT -5 by pogue

bailee
District Mayor

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Pronouns: she/her
last seen Feb 1, 2024 16:13:02 GMT -5

come snuggle bro

find the few living things [cowboys . day 1] Jun 29, 2022 21:46:37 GMT -5

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Post by bailee on Jun 29, 2022 21:46:37 GMT -5

Something that Christianity perfected was the fear of the unknown. Fear of a being so strong and powerful controlling whatever aspect of their lives He wanted. You never really understood it - you didn't believe God was someone to fear, someone you should devote your whole life to living to please.

At least until now, as what seemed like an empty void of space encompassed you and your allies, with nothing but your shadows dancing along the mineral-lined cave walls to keep you company. Your hands gripped onto your spear tightly - despite knowing whatever lay beyond the shining lights of your lanterns could change your fate in less than a heartbeat.

Silence held over your crew - all of your breaths huddled in your lungs until light finally began to erupt at the end of the tunnel and you are able to release all the tension trapped. Tex breaks the silence first - first a comment about Kip's battle in the Bloodbath, which pissed you off - because that should've been you in there with him, but you played it too safe like a pussy would - and then he finally broke the ice by asking how everyone felt.

"Alive," you repeat back to Tex, your words short and simple and to the point, not because you wanted to snub your allies but simply for a lack of better words. Your thoughts were so scattered - between the events earlier and the pounding of your heartbeat finally relaxing from the cave encounter, you could hardly settle your brain to a simple pattern.

Perhaps you weren't going to be as good at The Hunger Games as you thought you were going to be. How did they make it look so easy? "I counted three cannons," you say as you leaned against the dull end of your spear, "only twenty more to go till' one of us gets crowned a victor, I guess."

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heather - d2 [mylee]
Retired Staff

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last seen May 30, 2023 18:02:03 GMT -5

find the few living things [cowboys . day 1] Jul 1, 2022 10:42:26 GMT -5

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Post by heather - d2 [mylee] on Jul 1, 2022 10:42:26 GMT -5

K I P T Y N

I thought it would be easy to ask for help here, the desperate desire for survival more intense than ego, or shame. But trailing behind Tex and Cain now, I feel the stitch in my side, each twinge of pain accompanied by the feeling of blood seeping out from my wounds, and I still can't bring myself to say anything. What’s left of my right arm hangs limply at my side, and the axe I brought against it remains gripped tight in my left. I find myself watching it instead of my feet, the blade glinting in the flashes of light that catch us from beyond the mouth of the cave. With each, the axe seems to threaten to move of its own will, to take another swing at the parts of my body still intact.

When I’m nearly at the point of admitting my exhaustion or fear of the dark or the images of the hours before flashing across the cave walls, Tex stops us and rests against a nearby rock. It’s not hard to follow his lead, though my drop to the cave floor is less graceful with the new adjustments made to my new center of gravity. I feel crumpled and broken, every part of me arranged in a way that doesn't make sense.

The silence feels self-made and strained until Tex’s voice calls my name, low and almost questioning. You stayed at the tavern longer than both Cain and I combined. You’ve got balls. I can only estimate where he is in relation to where I am on the ground, so I take my best guess and point the remnants of my right arm, a nearly dislocated shoulder and the trailing, leaking bandages beyond it, toward him, I don’t know if that’s what I’d call it. By the time the sentence escapes me, the muscles in my back and shoulder are spasming, and my arm drops back hard against the cave floor.

The cry that follows is unintentional, and loud. I can’t see much in the dark, but I shut my eyes against it anyway, trying to stop the tears that roll down my cheeks. Even when I feel someone’s presence beside me, I don’t open them, just attempt to relax into Tex’s touch as he assesses the wounds cut into my body. I know I’m fighting consciousness, trying not to drift out farther than I can come back from, and I register his voice, his palm gently slapping my cheek. I can’t tell which direction he’s calling me to, but suddenly my arm feels set to fire and I jolt back, try to bring myself upright. But Tex keeps one hand pressed firm against my shoulder, and even despite the full strain of my strength against him, I know I’m not making any progress.

When I finally quit fighting him, I resign myself to watching his motions, how he keeps my arm propped up against his leg and peels back the first bandages I had wrapped loosely around the jagged flesh. They’re useless already, soaked deep red and black by blood and dirt, and they put up little resistance as he strips them back and drops them on the ground beside my head, and suddenly they’re all I see, what was once a part of me discarded and disintegrating on the cold cave floor.

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