blood on our hands - a + m

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august vance d7b [Bella]
Career Tribute

586 POSTS

Pronouns: She/Her
last seen Nov 12, 2024 22:10:17 GMT -5

spacin out

blood on our hands - a + m Oct 5, 2024 15:47:00 GMT -5

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Post by august vance d7b [Bella] on Oct 5, 2024 15:47:00 GMT -5

After spending a few hours at the ranged weapons station, my left forearm is marked with a glowing red stripe where the bowstring slapped my skin too many times. The instructor kept telling me I needed to keep a slight bend in my arm, but that made it harder to pull back the string. It’s more difficult than it looks. But in the end, I managed to hit the target a respectable amount of times.

I decide it’s a good time to rest a little, and brushing up on my first aid couldn’t hurt, so I make my way to that station. The trainer, a muscular man in his fifties with a prosthetic leg from the right knee down, is in the middle of explaining what to do in the case of a deep wound, like a bullet hole or a stab wound. He’s kneeling on the floor behind a naked, rubbery-looking dummy that seems to be hooked up to some kind of fish tank pump. The pump is sending fake blood squirting at short intervals through a hole in the dummy’s leg, just above his knee.

”Now, imagine you get stabbed in the leg like this dummy. The first thing you want to do is put pressure on the wound.” He demonstrates, placing his palm over the dummy’s wound and stopping the flow of blood. ”Then, you want to grab your gauze and start to pack the wound. Ideally you would sterilize it first, but the reality is that you might not have time. Boiling water would work if you have it on hand.”

The trainer reaches for a pile of gauze next to him, and begins to pack the dummy’s bloody wound hole with it. I realize my whole face is wrinkling up in disgust as I watch him, but it’s also pretty fascinating. The guy makes it look easy, and the wound stops bleeding within the minute. I consider clapping but none of the other tributes are doing it, so I just stand there and wait for his next direction.

After he shows us how to tie a tourniquet, he orders us to split up into pairs and practice on one of the dummies. The other tributes pair up pretty quickly, so I figure it’s best to ask the person standing next to me, one of the sporty-looking guys from Five.

”Maverick, right?” I ask. ”Do you wanna save a dummy’s life with me?”

(see? there's nothing to fear)

maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]
Head RP Tutor

4,677 POSTS

Pronouns: he/him
last seen Nov 1, 2024 16:42:16 GMT -5

oof

blood on our hands - a + m Oct 11, 2024 15:24:50 GMT -5

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Post by maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte] on Oct 11, 2024 15:24:50 GMT -5

M A V E R I C K H A L E

It's a bad moment to realize I can't stand the sight of blood. Even as it courses through silicone flesh, more like cherry syrup than crimson and death. I hadn't even wanted to attend the first aid lesson - ("What's the point? Isn't that more like running from the inevitable?") but even the off chance of saving Brad's life is better than none at all.

I can sit around and wait to die but I'll probably be doing a lot of that in the arena anyway. And I'm a pretty fast runner, maybe I'll outpace the Reaper. "Maverick, right?"

I've never been a very good student. So wrapped up in my misery I hardly listened to the trainer's educational drone. The others have all paired off and I assume this poor guy's the only option. I startle, grimace - "Mav, please." and try to turn the grit of my teeth into something like a smile. I recognize him, his reaping was aired only a couple minutes after mine. "And you're August." It's less of a question and more a confirmation. I'm always eager to get the pleasantries out of the way.

"I have some experience saving dummies." I affirm, making my way toward the lifeless doll laying prone in front of us. I try to avoid meeting it's gaze - all hollow and black. It's mouth hung open so that tubing can be fed through it's rubbery skeleton. I'm almost certain the Capitol has enough money to make these things less unsettling.

"Looks like a gash in his uh-" They'd gone over fatal points with long, scientific names that I had not even attempted to commit to memory, "Neck hole. Throat vein? Whateverthefuck." Deep enough that a small pool of sticky blood has matted the dummy's hair. I feel the heat drain from my face, panic must be hard to mistake even as I avert my gaze from Augusts.

"Here I'll just-" I pick up the gauze in my hands and try to shove it into the wound.

And, really, I don't know what I do wrong.

Something pops while my finger is in it's neck and all of a sudden August's face is lost to a fountain of fake blood. "Sorry!" I try to put my other hand over the spray but only end up redirecting some of it onto myself. Until we're both utterly scarlet.

"I think I killed it instead."