i could use another set of hands here [fridae/lore day 5]
Mar 21, 2021 14:51:57 GMT -5
Post by rook on Mar 21, 2021 14:51:57 GMT -5
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It's like I'm emerging from a prolonged, black dream. I'm wincing up at the sky, bleached and eternal, as my body is dragged across the desolate landscape. Looking down at my feet I see a long trail of blood stretching out before me, and with every haul of my collar I hear a grunt above me, the heavy breathing of the girl heaving by weight to safer ground.
"You know my money would have be on you otherwise."
Only a fool would bet on a coward like me.
The girl stands over my body, stark in her yellow hazmat suit that is much less red than mine. Not a single drop stains hers, and yet there is a sad determination in her eyes that makes me wonder if she's made it this far with her soul in one piece or not.
I cough violently, specks of blood hot on the back of my hand, but it's not enough to ease the screaming in my chest. I am too weak to move, led in the rubble and the glass, eyes milky and unable to focus. My breathing is raspy, raw, and to speak would take an impossible amount of energy. I think I am dying. God, I think I am dying.
No water comes to my eyes, just the blackness in the edges of my peripheral vision, and the shifting figure before me that moves from left to right, sometimes too quickly for me to focus on her, sometimes completely still, and her words wash over me like I am underwater, like am back in the docks and being drowned again, hands reaching up to the rippled sunlight and screaming all the air out of my lungs, watching it bubble to the surface as rough hands hold me down.
Would it have been better to die there, than here?
The spear across the face, then jabbed into my back, a horrific clicking sound and flashes of white. Something piercing into my spine, cutting my flesh open and then burning, burning pain cauterising the gash only to rip it open again and again. I remember. I can see it in glimpses, I can feel ghosts of the spear in the wound, and in the look on the girl's face.
Lore.
I recognise her now. From the training center. She was with Sin after the Bloodbath, and that redhead girl too. She's alone now, the only company she has now other than me are the thousand different reflections of herself, jagged in the glass piles, staring back in judgement.
I try to get up, but I can't feel my legs. I can't move my legs.
My head falls back into the dirt as I realise exactly what has happened, exactly what that wound and the jolt of electricity has done to me, and a small tear finally forms in the corner of my eyes, blossoming into a stinging haze across my vision.
"Lore..." I breathe, "I can't move."
"You know my money would have be on you otherwise."
Only a fool would bet on a coward like me.
The girl stands over my body, stark in her yellow hazmat suit that is much less red than mine. Not a single drop stains hers, and yet there is a sad determination in her eyes that makes me wonder if she's made it this far with her soul in one piece or not.
I cough violently, specks of blood hot on the back of my hand, but it's not enough to ease the screaming in my chest. I am too weak to move, led in the rubble and the glass, eyes milky and unable to focus. My breathing is raspy, raw, and to speak would take an impossible amount of energy. I think I am dying. God, I think I am dying.
No water comes to my eyes, just the blackness in the edges of my peripheral vision, and the shifting figure before me that moves from left to right, sometimes too quickly for me to focus on her, sometimes completely still, and her words wash over me like I am underwater, like am back in the docks and being drowned again, hands reaching up to the rippled sunlight and screaming all the air out of my lungs, watching it bubble to the surface as rough hands hold me down.
Would it have been better to die there, than here?
The spear across the face, then jabbed into my back, a horrific clicking sound and flashes of white. Something piercing into my spine, cutting my flesh open and then burning, burning pain cauterising the gash only to rip it open again and again. I remember. I can see it in glimpses, I can feel ghosts of the spear in the wound, and in the look on the girl's face.
Lore.
I recognise her now. From the training center. She was with Sin after the Bloodbath, and that redhead girl too. She's alone now, the only company she has now other than me are the thousand different reflections of herself, jagged in the glass piles, staring back in judgement.
I try to get up, but I can't feel my legs. I can't move my legs.
My head falls back into the dirt as I realise exactly what has happened, exactly what that wound and the jolt of electricity has done to me, and a small tear finally forms in the corner of my eyes, blossoming into a stinging haze across my vision.
"Lore..." I breathe, "I can't move."
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