Safe haven {arrows}

Knuckles
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Safe haven {arrows} Apr 25, 2016 21:16:54 GMT -5

Post by Knuckles on Apr 25, 2016 21:16:54 GMT -5

Typherius Krearns

I've become so numb, I can't feel you there
Become so tired, so much more aware
By becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you

A bright light pierces my eyes as a large slab of debris is removed from my face. But it's different. Something isn't right because I'm standing outside my body watching rescuers continue removing piece after piece until my entire body is exposed. A bone protrudes through the skin of my right arm, blood gushes down my chest surrounding several large pieces of glass, my left hand is deformed, and my ribs are moving in opposite directions as I gasp for air. And I can hear them talking among themselves. "Sir, sir can you hear me?" One of them asks, and I nod my head opening my mouth to speak, but no words fall from my lips as my broken body remains limp. "We should move on. He's dead." Another says quietly. But I'm not dead. I standing right here listening to them as they speak. I can't be dead. One of the men places his hand on my throat feeling for a pulse, and I know it's beating because I can hear it in my ears.

Ba dum.

Ba dum.

Ba dum.

Ba dum.

Yet it doesn't feel like it exist anymore. "He has a pulse. Just barely, but he has one." A drummer sits inside my chest pounding against my bones forcing myself to keep going, but I still don't understand what's going on. I don't know what happened. "We have to move him. Quick."

And I watch as they walk away moving fast leaving me behind as the world slowly fades around me. My heart grows weaker, but I can still hear it. Until the darkness consumes me once more.

"Sir! Stay with us!" Frantic voices fill my ears buzzing through the air. It's a strange feeling watching myself from the outside like I'm watching a tribute march through the arena on the big screen set up in the district square. I...I...I'm dying. But how can that be? I'm watching myself as I slowly float away. I'm standing here in the same room as these men try to help me. "Careful. Careful." A soft moan erupts past my lips as they lift me into the air before placing me on a cot. But nothing makes sense. How am I watching myself from the outside?

You're dying.

A tiny voice echoes through my mind as the world fades around me leaving me trapped.

"Sir! Stay with us. We're getting you help."

"Come on, kid, fight through."

"Just hang on."

But before I could respond the world turned black and silence devoured me.

My eyes flicker open taking in my surroundings. Pain vibrates through my body as I try to move. Taking a breath hurts, and I can't figure out what's going on. Blood trickles through the bandages on my chest. Every movement hurts. It feels like my ribs have been set on fire. What happened? My eyes open wider, and I look around at the tent watching people run back and forth from patient to patient making sure everyone is taken care of. Why are there so many people?

I try to sit up, but restraints hold me back, and I see tubes sticking out of my arms. People dressed in white walk through the door of the tent. My breathing quickens and the pain becomes more and more, and I'm screaming trying to get someone's attention, yet no sound falls from lips. My lungs hurt, and I can't hold this position for long before I fall back onto the uncomfortable cot. I try to speak, but I can't form the words. Help me please. My only hope is someone sees me and comes to saves me.

[googlefont="Arvo:400"]

Last Edit: Apr 26, 2016 9:59:42 GMT -5 by Knuckles

lest we forget [the characters]

credit to Zoe

Arrows
Retired Staff

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Safe haven {arrows} May 8, 2016 16:05:38 GMT -5

Post by Arrows on May 8, 2016 16:05:38 GMT -5

Silence was a viel from the past. An empty arena where no blood had been shed. A bubble from the rest of the world which moved on as though nothing had changed. Kirito's fingers gently ran over the creases of Iain's letter just as they had done countless of times before. Already the words were set into an eternity within Kirito's mind. Every letter, every word, every sentence would be remembered. Every smile Iain ever had and even every tear he shed, Kirito would remember. While the world kept on turning and people forgot. He wouldn't. He would recall the final written words that now laid like a weight in his hands.

"But I just hope that I made you proud. I hope that you'll always be proud to say that I'm related to you. I know I don't have much to give now, but everything that I had, I gave my all."

A broken sigh filtered out of Kirito's mouth as he laid he head against the train window's glass. As a world of beauty flashed by in instants all he could think about was how proud of Iain he really was. How proud he was that each day Iain woke up and dealt with the life of having a disabled foot. How proud he was that each day Iain was taking the proper steps to being a humble gentlemen. How proud he was to know Iain carried the last name Miristioma as strongly as it could be. Even when the time came for him to shed blood he never stole another's life. Sure, since he hadn't slain another person across the Swamp's sodden soil he now laid buried beneath it, but at least he had remained true to who he was. He wasn't a broken man shining as a Capitol star or a blood stained victor. Iain's brother didn't hate him like Ikaia hated Kirito, and he wasn't the head of the family who spent everyday wondering who would be stolen next. He was just Iain Miristioma, and to still be that boy when he died took more strength than to destroy himself as Kirito had. Kirito wasn't just proud. He was honored to be able to claim Iain as one of his family members, as his cousin both before and in death.

"I ask that you never forget me."

Never, Kirito though to himself as the world changed from beauty to devestation. Water and smoke filled the world Kirito watched from behind the glass. Moving and motionless bodies filled the soaked streets. Buildings were nothing more than rubble or barely standing. Even through the glass the sounds of sirens wailed high over the normally extravogent District Four. However, as much as Kirito felt pity for them he couldn't help but have a wretched thought. He wondered if this would teach them just what exactly the games were. The unexpected.

As the train came to a stop Kirito pushed the letter saftely into a pocket of his duffle bag. Frantic volunteers met the train's supplies at the door and Kirito did his best to stay out of their way. The smell of smoke wafted through Kirito's nose as he coughed viciously on the rotten air. Part of Kirito's past shifted into focus as he remembered the constant smokey smell of his arena, it made him want to puke. Hands suddently latched onto Kirito's arm as he was spun quickly around. Fear and angst got the best of him as he swiftly clentched a fist prepared to strike. Luckily Kirito was able to stop himself when he noticed a young women with vibrant red locks of hair dressed within some kind of medical outfit.

"Kirito Miristioma? It is you!" She exclaimed happily as Kirito instantly felt his ears burning from the stares of people all around them. "We are so grateful you have decided to come here and use your medical expertise. We have to get right to work so let me show you to your medical tent." Intrigue suddenly gripped Kirito's recently "repaired" mind. One he was grateful seemed to be somewhat silent at the moment. "My tent?" Kirito inquired and the woman simply smiled as she led him rapidly through side street after side street. "Yes your medical tent. Being as well knowleged as you are you are the Doctor in charge of your divisions tent." "Oh." Kirito mustered out of shock as their relatively short journey through the somewhat less destroyed portion of the District ended at a large black tent with a medical cross on its sides.

Only moments after walking into the blood smelling place Kirito was swarmed by "his division" members. Forcing himself to calm down, especially around the skin crawling metallic scent of blood, Kirito set his bag down and placed his designated white Doctor's coat over his shoulders. "Alright," He said loudly enough to get everyone's attention. "All of you continue to help those who you are already assigned at. I will need two of you to stay with me as my aids and take me to patients in order of most severe to least severe. Also before anyone is allowed to leave have me clear them first."

Seconds after Kirito's words ended he was taken by two of his aids, one blonde girl and one ragged brunette haired boy, to one teenager roughly around Kirito's own age who he could tell was nearing death. Besides the amount of blood Kirito can see he can tell by the panic and pained look in the boy's eyes he was in serious trouble. Without hesitation Kirito grabbed the medical report and determined the best route to take so he could save the boy's life. Once Kirito finished calculating the best methods to be taken he turned to the two aids.

"How many cc's of morphine is he on?" Kirito asked urgently as he gained a sudden response of 20. With a slight nod Kirito turned and walked over to the struggling boy's side. "Listen," Kirito started as he read the boy's name with sudden chills at realization of the last name he carried. "Typherius. I am Kirito Miristioma and I am going to do everything I can to save you. But I am going to need you to try to relax as much as possible. Believe me I know what it feels like to be knocking on the door of death itself. It is beyond scary, but if you stay calm for me I can get you back home with a heart beat alright?"

Kirito Miristioma
Victor Of The Seventieth Hunger Games

Graphic by the Breathtakingly Talented Stare

Knuckles
Librarian

4,984 POSTS
Pronouns: he/him
last seen Nov 23, 2024 17:07:33 GMT -5

probably flailing over something

Safe haven {arrows} May 9, 2016 17:10:54 GMT -5

Post by Knuckles on May 9, 2016 17:10:54 GMT -5

Typherius Krearns

I've become so numb, I can't feel you there
Become so tired, so much more aware
By becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you

White walls slowly spin around me, and the floor swims with the rhythmic dance of the waves crashing in the sea, but nothing took away the pain of the bones shattered inside my body, but I don't know what happened. I was in a room dancing around looking through my closet for the perfect outfit for my first date with my friend, and now I'm here lying on a cot with men in white scurrying across the floor around me. And I can see people dancing around chattering alongside someone else gathered in the room, and his voice is loud, and I feel like my ears are going to explode as I pull against the restraints holding me down. My hands wrap around the tubes sticking out of my arms, and I want to pull them out. I want to get up and walk away, but the pain is too much. It's devouring me slowly. Out of the corner of my eye I see the grim reaper lurking in the corner pointing his crooked finger at me beckoning for me to follow, but I'm not ready to follow, and I want to scream, yet I can't make any sounds.

Someone save me.

Please.

Anyone.

But it's no use because nobody comes to my side. They're all gathered about in the middle of the room, but soon they're coming. A guy accompanied by two others, and I want them to help me. Please hurry. I try to speak, but I can't. Something is stopping me, and I'm going to die if they don't help me.

Beads of sweat roll down my face drenching the sheet beneath me along with the clothes I'm wearing. My eyes are wide as I look at him wondering what he's going to do. Wondering if he's going to save me.

"Listen, Typherius. I am Kirito Miristioma and I am going to do everything I can to save you. But I am going to need you to relax we much as possible. Believe me I know what it feels like to be knocking on the door of death itself. It is beyond scary, but if you stay calm for me I can get you back home with a heart beat alright?"

His words fly over my head leaving me lost, but I know he wants me to relax, but I can't stop myself. Every muscle inside my body is trying to tighten up, and I can feel my teeth gritting down as I pull against my restraints again. Calming down is impossible because of the all the adrenaline surging throughout my body. My hands are shaking as I wrap them around the tubes again wanting them gone. I need something to take the pain away, and whatever they're doing to me isn't helping, and they're going to kill me.

They're going to kill me.

I thrash around on the bed fighting myself. Fighting the grim reaper. Fighting between life and death, but I don't know what to do, and I can't control the high pitched scream that erupts from my lips. I want to listen to this doctor. I want to make sure he can keep me alive, but I'm dying. I'm dying.

I'm dying.

[googlefont="Arvo:400"]

lest we forget [the characters]

credit to Zoe

Arrows
Retired Staff

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Safe haven {arrows} May 10, 2016 18:01:46 GMT -5

Post by Arrows on May 10, 2016 18:01:46 GMT -5

A scream explodes from the Krearns boy's lips as the pain undoubtly sends another unbearble wave rippling underneath his ripped skin. Kirito could feel his jaw tightening at the sound and at the sight. It was all so familiar, all so normal, and that is what made it worse. All the memories Kirito had when it came to rescueing others or attempting to bubbled in his brain. He remembered Rhyme bleeding away in his arms, he remembered healing Circe aboard the devil's train, he even remember all the victims of accidents he helped back in Eleven. Kirito's entire existence had resolved around one sole thing, his true soul purpose. Healing.

From the beginning Kirito knew he wanted to be a doctor. Watching ever so closely the way they worked swiftly and effectively. Watching the way patients they healed smile and grin with joy. Every aspect of it was so appealing to Kirito, however he never knew the darkness that came with the light. Kirito never knew how many would die in his care. How many he would have to sorrowfully tell he couldn't help while the one's they loved crumbled to the ground in tears. Healing was perhaps the hardest thing in the world and yet Kirito had leaped for it with open arms. Now here he was, a doctor, self trained from games and extensive knowledge due to his winnings. However it was just the same as being a small healer back in Eleven. Who lives, who dies, who tells anyone's story? Would anyone tell their children tales of Kirito Miristioma the healer? No, they would all tell the tales of being part of the District Eleven trilogy and how he was the insane victor. Unless he proved them wrong and gave them another story to tell. A story where he saved people everyday, just like he would save Typherius.

Standing up straighter Kirito turned to his aids and spoke firmly. "Prep him for immedient operation. We can't put him under but increase the morphine amount to as much as we can. I don't want him feeling a thing just for the love of Ripred don't give him enough to kill him. We are trying to save him after all." After Kirito's words ended the two were off like foxes swiftly doing what they were ordered to do as Kirito followed suit. He rinsed his hands and placed gloves over them all in preparation for the operation. Although Kirito had operated on people back home in Eleven this was an entirely different environment. A place he couldn't let himself fail in, no, he wouldn't let himself fail in.

When Kirito returned all the supplies were ready and Typherius appeared to be as medicated as Kirito had ordered. Taking a deep breath Kirito made his way to Typherius' side and as gently as possible exposed the wrapped stab wound on his chest. "Now this is by far the largest amount of bleeding he has so we will handle it first with stitching." Kirito said as his aids handed him precisely what he had mentioned. Just before beginning to sew Kirito looked up at Typherius in his medicated eyes and said as calmly as possible. "Listen this may or may not hurt but if it does I am truly sorry but I have to do what I have to do to save you." With that Kirito gently pushed the needle into the proper area of skin.

Greuling minutes of bloody sewing ticked on a Kirito ignored any and all sounds. Right now he was completely focused on his task as he saw the amount of flowing blood drastically decreasing. Off to Kirito's side his female aid continued to keep the wound as dry as possible as Kirito sewed while the male aid did his best to stop any movements Typherius made. Then finally after what must have at least been half an hour of highly delicate sewing Kirito cut the connecting stich and observed his work closely. With a nod Kirito turned his attention away from his blood stained and gloved hands as he looked once more at Typherius. "Alright we got a lot of the blood flow stopped with sealing the wound up, now I am going to work on this broken rib of yours. So be prepared."

Kirito Miristioma
Victor Of The Seventieth Hunger Games

Last Edit: May 10, 2016 18:03:28 GMT -5 by Arrows

Graphic by the Breathtakingly Talented Stare

Knuckles
Librarian

4,984 POSTS
Pronouns: he/him
last seen Nov 23, 2024 17:07:33 GMT -5

probably flailing over something

Safe haven {arrows} May 11, 2016 20:34:02 GMT -5

Post by Knuckles on May 11, 2016 20:34:02 GMT -5

Typherius Krearns

I've become so numb, I can't feel you there
Become so tired, so much more aware
By becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you

Sweat plasters my shaggy hair to the side of my face, and I continue fighting against the restraints holding me down. My eyes focus on the people walking around whispering taunting words, but nothing makes sense. So much adrenaline keeps me fighting. It’s keeping me alive as my body tries to fight against me, and I don’t understand why. Many questions fly through my mind, yet I can’t figure out how to speak. My mind is numb, and the answers I need aren’t coming, but the questions are stuck on repeat.

What happened? Why am I here? Why do I hurt so bad?

Gritting my teeth, I try to listen to this man. Is he an angel? Is he the devil himself? I don’t know, and it’s killing me because I don’t want to die. Not like my cousins who died in the games. I want to live. To see another day of life. To one day marry the man of my dreams, but first I have to find my parents and tell them -

I can’t tell them anything if I die.

Another pain filled shriek flies from my lips as the doctor moves closer towards me, and I watch as he places the gloves on his hands while mumbling off orders to those standing around. No. No. No. Please don’t hurt me!

But I can’t move. Someone presses firmly against my body holding me down to the bed. Save me. Someone save me! Yet my words are silent because my lips can’t move.

I feel myself growing tired, but I won’t stop moving because becoming tired only means one thing. Death is coming for me, and these people are going to send me there faster than I want to go. Why are they hurting me? Why are they trying to kill me? Yet somewhere in the back of my mind I can hear a tiny voice telling me they’re trying to save me. But nothing makes sense anymore. Then I see him coming at me with a needle, and I’m screaming at the top of my lungs. Make it stop! He’s trying to kill me! But nobody moves. Nobody tries to save me, and I can’t stop the tears from rolling down my face.

"Listen this may or may not hurt but if it does I am truly sorry but I have to do what I have to do to save you."

He’s telling me he wants to save me, but I don’t understand why I need saving. Nothing is wrong except the horrendous amount of pain I’m in. Yet I still don’t know what happened. Why am I here? Why am I not back with my friend?

And then I feel the needle sticking into my skin, and I grit my teeth tighter while trying to thrash around in the bed, but the man is holding me down, and I can’t move. One stick after another, and I’m screaming at the top of my lungs trying to get them to let me go. I just want to go home. Is that really too much to ask for? Apparently it is because the more I scream and move the harder the male holds me down while the man in white continues sticking me with the needle. If I could break free, I’d punch him right in the face. I try shouting. I try talking, but the pain is controlling me.

But the sleepiness is slowly overtaking me more and more.

I’m dying. I whisper to myself over and over while trying to figure out what’s going on, but even the sleepiness isn’t my main concern because the pain starts going away. My body is numb, and I know I’m sitting on top of death’s door, and they’re trying to push me through it. I’m not dead.

I can hear the sound of my frantic heart ticking inside my ears, but the pain is gone, and it feels like I’m about to float off the bed. And in a matter of seconds the doctor has moved away and I can see him standing over top of me.

Yet when he spoke to me his words were muffled, and I can’t make them out, but I can see his face. My eyelids grow heavy, and it’s taking all I have to not fall asleep. And all I can do is nod my head despite not knowing what I’m nodding to. Surely it isn’t good.

My entire body relaxes, and I allow my eyes to close not afraid of anything that could happen. Perhaps this man is right. Perhaps he is trying to save me.

But what happened? Why do I need help?