put a bullet in my buttcheek {SS vs CR, Day 2}
Jul 15, 2017 14:02:57 GMT -5
Post by arx!! on Jul 15, 2017 14:02:57 GMT -5
clementina ogden.
My head is pounding. I feel like I've got pins pressing into my eyes and what feels like a grenade exploding against the inside of my skull. I groan because I ache all over, the sun is too bright, and I'm already sweating bullets. My mouth feels dry, the remains of alcohol sticky on my breath.
Fuck. I drank way too much last night. How many more terrible mistakes am I going to make before it gets someone killed?
I'm being nudged from slumber and someone is telling me it's time to go—something about pushing this fucking boat. I want to complain, but everyone's already waiting, shoulders pressed into its hull and heels digging into the ground. I'm not sure how it's possible, but it lurches forward—slowly but surely—as I lean into it, my bandaged calf begging me to stop.
It feels like decades before I hear anyone suggest we stop. I'm so out of breath and so incredibly dizzy that all I can do is collapse into the black sands beneath me. It's soft, warm, and as a breeze blows along the shore and over the sweat dripping down my back, I can't help the cry of pure relief that escapes my lips.
I breathe in, face still in the sand, suddenly aware of the salt on the air. Sand sticks to my skin as roll over, sit up and throw my aviators on to keep the sun from burning my eyes inside their sockets. I brush as much sand as I can from my legs, glancing around the beach with a half smile as I remove my sandals and wiggle my toes until they disappear beneath the black sands.
I take a deep breath, take the cap off my head so that the breeze dries the sweat soaking my hair. I sigh, close my eyes. I never knew how many different noises the beach made. It's a symphony or rolling, crashing waves against a beach, birds chirping overhead, sand tumbling over itself as the breeze swishes the leaves on the trees. I dare say it's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.
I'm not sure what tips me off. Whether it's the shifting of the breeze or the rustle of leaves at the edge of the beach or the way Emberly's band of furry friends unlatch from her and move away to the yacht, but my eyes fly open just as soon as someone appears from the trees.
They're close enough that I swing without really looking. Instinct.Clementina attacks Chester w/ Flanged Mace
wgUVPtcjspiked blunt
[GASH/BRUISED RIGHT FOOT -- 3.0 damage]
Minor Hangover:
1-2
[Attack lands]
"Shit, Chester? Fuck, what are you--"
Everything gets really slow all of a sudden. Slow and quiet. All I can hear is my own breathing, all I can see is Rhetoric Anadiplosis twirling a pistol on her finger. She's got a grin on her face and I think she's saying something, but my ears have quit working as panic floods my senses. I swallow the lump in my throat as I yell-
"Gun."
But I'm not sure it comes out as anything more than a whisper as I back away, weapon lowered, and eyes pleading, begging for her to put it away.
"Please, I'll give you whatever you want just," I don't dare take my eyes off the pistol, but I hope everyone has run away by now.
"Don't shoot."