(no subject)
Who: limu_o_pele and prophetize
What: Asha needs healing and Ben has a pesky wraith problem.
Where: Somewhere in the city.
When: Wednesday, day three of the Friendly Reminder event.
Warnings: Standard event warnings.
Endless night and constant threats make it difficult to know when to rest. The body feels tired, the mind falls slowly into sluggishness, but fear makes adrenaline spike, pulls everything into alertness again. Asha can't say she's entirely sure how long it's been since the monsters appeared, since she went out onto the streets with Bowen, since she lost track of him. She's crossed paths with others since then, but when that was in comparison to now is elusive. Time in her mind has become measured more in how many creatures she's killed or evaded, how many shotgun shells she has left, no room for minutes or hours.
But it's days, she finds, when she stops to check her PORTAL. She stares at the numbers for a long moment and wonders how her mother did it, running and fighting, any slim glimmer of safety like a thin rocky ledge that could crumble out from under your feet at any moment. A soldier for more years than Asha had been alive, and Asha is already drained and tired from three days. And unfortunately, being tired and drained makes her sloppy.
She doesn't sense the creature until it's right on top of her, and at that point turning only makes it easier for one of its claws to slice down across her chest and stomach. The strap holding her second shotgun to her back is cut through, the gun clattering to the ground as she stumbles back. Another razor-sharp leg lifts and plunges down, puncturing deep into her shoulder, and if there was a voice in her throat she would cry out. She pushes, out of panic and desperation, forcing the creature back, a painfully sickening sensation as its claw is dragged back out of her shoulder. It doesn't do any harm, but it confuses the monster, that brief invisible pressure of her abilities. And that gives her the time to brace and aim the shotgun she still holds, close-range enough to blow a hole through the centre of its spindly frame.
Relief follows quickly, but the lesson of idleness was far too soon for her to forget. She pulls herself back to her feet, rescues the second gun and makes it the few feet to a secluded doorway before she lets herself drop again. Pain is not new, but she has never felt it so greatly before, so tangled up with shock and fear. It's more than enough to test the control she has to keep over her emotions, and holding that in place leaves very little room for her to deal with her injuries. She needs to stop or slow the bleeding, she knows, but how on such large wounds eludes her. And so she does nothing more than curl into herself, attention turned inwards, trying to find some sliver of calm in her mind.
What: Asha needs healing and Ben has a pesky wraith problem.
Where: Somewhere in the city.
When: Wednesday, day three of the Friendly Reminder event.
Warnings: Standard event warnings.
Endless night and constant threats make it difficult to know when to rest. The body feels tired, the mind falls slowly into sluggishness, but fear makes adrenaline spike, pulls everything into alertness again. Asha can't say she's entirely sure how long it's been since the monsters appeared, since she went out onto the streets with Bowen, since she lost track of him. She's crossed paths with others since then, but when that was in comparison to now is elusive. Time in her mind has become measured more in how many creatures she's killed or evaded, how many shotgun shells she has left, no room for minutes or hours.
But it's days, she finds, when she stops to check her PORTAL. She stares at the numbers for a long moment and wonders how her mother did it, running and fighting, any slim glimmer of safety like a thin rocky ledge that could crumble out from under your feet at any moment. A soldier for more years than Asha had been alive, and Asha is already drained and tired from three days. And unfortunately, being tired and drained makes her sloppy.
She doesn't sense the creature until it's right on top of her, and at that point turning only makes it easier for one of its claws to slice down across her chest and stomach. The strap holding her second shotgun to her back is cut through, the gun clattering to the ground as she stumbles back. Another razor-sharp leg lifts and plunges down, puncturing deep into her shoulder, and if there was a voice in her throat she would cry out. She pushes, out of panic and desperation, forcing the creature back, a painfully sickening sensation as its claw is dragged back out of her shoulder. It doesn't do any harm, but it confuses the monster, that brief invisible pressure of her abilities. And that gives her the time to brace and aim the shotgun she still holds, close-range enough to blow a hole through the centre of its spindly frame.
Relief follows quickly, but the lesson of idleness was far too soon for her to forget. She pulls herself back to her feet, rescues the second gun and makes it the few feet to a secluded doorway before she lets herself drop again. Pain is not new, but she has never felt it so greatly before, so tangled up with shock and fear. It's more than enough to test the control she has to keep over her emotions, and holding that in place leaves very little room for her to deal with her injuries. She needs to stop or slow the bleeding, she knows, but how on such large wounds eludes her. And so she does nothing more than curl into herself, attention turned inwards, trying to find some sliver of calm in her mind.