i am so scared of what will kill me in the end for i am not prepared
Characters: thinkbrave & howaverage :: closed
Date: late morning
Summary: Exploration of the recently made Hell & shadow visitors
Warnings: violence, war, death
( i hope i will get the chance to be someone, to be human, look what we've done )
Date: late morning
Summary: Exploration of the recently made Hell & shadow visitors
Warnings: violence, war, death
( i hope i will get the chance to be someone, to be human, look what we've done )
A brief, troubled expression touches her face as she looks into the trees. Bush without the sounds didn't seem right at all, like it was a void, somehow. Even if Hell wasn't touched by humans in close to a hundred years, it was still teeming with life. With a bit of a groan - left knee playing up again, the way it seemed to enjoy so much - Ellie pushes herself up, shaking her limbs loose as she makes her way towards where the tents are set up. "I'd say this is probably still a step up from seeing it on the telly, right?"
God, it was weird imagining people not being brought up with nature, surrounded by buildings and blocks and concrete but no greenery. Didn't seen right, not by a long shot. Then again, she was a country girl, always had been. She'd memorised the land around her parents farm since she was tiny. The ground, the landmarks, where it was safe and where it wasn't. She knew Australia, too, and a thought strikes her that makes her turn back to Em. "Don't go wondering off into the bush. Bloody easy to get lost in, all right?"
Despite the warning, she smiles a bit at the sight of her tent, marked up with mud to make it stick out less. "Home sweet home."
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"I find it as perfect as this place lets it be, at least." Not just saying it by saying, since most things that come out of Em's mouth are actually pretty sincere - sometimes even to the point of bluntness.
She watches Ellie as she moves about, tilting her head at the little frown that she displays, but she doesn't say anything. Sometimes, the girl just gets that expression on her face and Em has learned to respect that, to leave Ellie's frown and her thoughts alone. As a private person herself, Em believes that sometimes, if people aren't ready to share things, they shouldn't. Of course that, other times, when her insecurities come to play, she can be a little forceful in wanting to know what the other person is thinking, if only to sooth her worries. She supposes that this moment right here, however, it's better if they just leave it be. The knee also worries her, of course, but about that, there's nothing she can do - not even telling Ellie to slow down when she's running about, because the girl will keep pushing herself until exhaustion. Sometimes, she just wants to tug on her ear for her own good.
"I suppose," she laughs a little, crossing her arms over her abdomen, kicking a tiny pebble into the water as she looks around. "It's as real as it gets, hm?"
She enjoys the silence, however, although it would be interesting to listen to the chirping birds and the... whatever sound wombats and possums make. It would give it an even wilder atmosphere, but this much is good enough for Emilia.
"Now, why would I go off into the wilderness without my tour guide slash monkey?" She follows Ellie to the tent. "That sounds silly."
The tent is dirty and although she was taken camping when she was younger, usually they were a bit cleaner than that. She arches an eyebrow and turns to Ellie with that expression asking 'what, really?' at the whole home sweet home deal.
"I hope you're not planning on moving." A pause. "I would miss having a cleaner around the bar, I mean, who else would climb on tables to clean the ceiling?"
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Ellie's smile is very small, but definitely there. "You'd be surprised how many people go wandering into the bush. They think they spot a path, make themselves believe their spotting landmarks and that they'll only go for a little walkabout, and then next thing you know there are searches and they might not get found for days." It could head right past 'bad' and straight into 'disaster', especially if they didn't have any water, but she'd skip that lecture for now. She's busy running her hand over the tent, tugging down the zip to take a peek inside.
Still in working order, at least. That was good.
A little shake of her head as she leans back to look at Em. "It wouldn't really be safe, being down here on your own." Logic first, of course. She couldn't imagine not having Fi to crawl in next to, either, but the thought of being in Hell by herself did make her uneasy. Chris was in Hell on his own, and he'd wound up dead. His own actions; climbing out and going to get grog and crashing on his way, but it was still the outcome of isolation, she was pretty convinced. If he'd come with them--
Well. That was an old story, even if her brain did pick over it every day. Silence again, that frown settling back in before she looks to Em, and the expression lightens only a little bit. "If you didn't have this cleaner, odds are you wouldn't be getting stuff on the ceiling in the first place." Ellie scratches her nose, and only then gives the emotional reasoning voice; "Anyway, you make better food than I could ever do down here."
So it wasn't exactly sentimentally worded. That didn't mean she didn't care.
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There's one of Emilia's quiet laughs and she shrugs harmlessly. "Well, don't worry about me venturing alone into the wilderness. That's not likely to happen. At all." God, Ellie, it's like you don't know her. Why would this person who clings to her comfort zones ever dive head first into a place that she doesn't know and it's called Hell and apparently was home for an old hermit that was accused of being a murderer?
Watching Ellie tug down the tent's fly, she makes a quiet sound of amusement when it opens - perhaps even a little curious. She walks closer to the tent, leaning to the side and tilting her head to look at it, hands behind her back.
"I'm glad my cooking holds such a power over your decisions," she smiles amusedly, knowing full well that there's more to Ellie's words than just that. Figuring this girl out is sometimes difficult, but Em does try because, well, she's her little sister around here and she's pretty sure the feeling of attachment is mutual, which is rather weird and unexpected if she really thinks about it. She would never say she would grow attached to anyone in this place, much less a kid (because for Emilia, that's what her monkey is). But here she is, sharing a place with her and jogging every other morning and just generally beings friends with. She's glad it happened, in the end, glad she was able to connect with someone, even if it's someone that really does need a shoulder to cry on more than the girl would like to admit it.
"I'm sure you would survive, though." Em leans over the tent, brushing a couple of leaves out of it. "Being such a resorceful little monkey and all." A wink, something that's really almost exclusively reserved for Ellie around here, as Em shows her more playful side. She doesn't allow much trust, most of the time, and even if she can smile and be polite to others, gaining that level of trust usually takes some time.
"So, any tips for me if I end up getting lost?" Not that she thinks she will, but better safe than sorry. Em is very practical, after all.
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She does, however, allow herself a little snort of amusement. "What can I say? You live off vegemite and wheat thins long enough, you start to appreciate just about everything else a lot more. Hot food is a banquet, just about." Sure, in New Zealand they'd gotten hot food, had a while living like human beings, but that didn't do much to stave off the need to ensure that you had food, that there was a ready supply and that you'd be ready for anything. Em was a godsend, in this place, even if Ellie wasn't going to say that out loud, especially since the food was only one part of a great long list of things Ellie was grateful for. Owed her, really. She owed Em, and proud as she was, Ellie wasn't exactly sure how that sat with her.
Gently nudging Em with her shoulder, she absently leans against against her. "Fine something to shelter under that can keep you warm at night, shade that'll help keep you from getting dehydrated, and try to make yourself a marker so that even if you cover yourself up to rest and keep safe, any rescue party'll know you're there. Don't keep walking, you could just get yourself further up shit creek without a paddle." A little pause. "And don't piss off any snakes. I don't care if they're medical around here. It's creepy."
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Em makes a sound of agreement at the whole snake business. Because snakes alone are scary, so healing snakes... Just the thought makes her shudder a little, imagining their cold, scaly bodies all curled around herself. Gross and creepy all over. She shivers one more time with a wince, trying to get that image out of her head.
"I would much rather avoid snakes."
And because nobody can ever say anything in the Gardens without something backfiring, of course that as soon as she says those words, there's a sort of a creak, like someone stepping on a stick and breaking it. Em quickly turns around, more surprised than scared, but that quickly turns around when instead of a snake - which was what she was expecting, to be completely honest - she finds herself looking at an oddly familiar face that's somewhat not so familiar at all. If she imagines that face as a boy's, then, yes, it is similar. But it can't be. It just can't be and she doesn't want it to be, but it is.
It's the soldier boy - as a girl. That one she shot when she had to go to Bosnia to get her father's parents back. The person, just a kid, that she had to shoot to survive.
It's instinct that makes her tense up and shove Ellie behind her, even if she's not particularly brave. Especially not when the soldier girl says something in Serbian, pointing the rifle at Em threatingly. Em holds a hand up, slowly, not even sure what to do besides that.
"«Stop.»" In the little Serbian she knows (almost nothing at all), holding both her hands up, making sure Ellie is behind her. In fact, she's pretty sure the phantom is only there for her, so she talks over her shoulder without even looking at her. "Ellie, get in the tent," between gritted teeth, in a tone that says that there will not be any discussion regarding this. "Get in the tent, now."
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It's too bad when the worst instinct is pretty close to spot on. So much for paranoia.
Without even bothering to give Em an incredulous look - too busy eyeing that soldier - Ellie stands fast. "Fuck off," she whispers back, harshly. Going in the tent, that's a dead end. If there's nothing else she knows, nothing else that she can feel in her gut, she at least knows that, and Ellie hates dead ends. No, she just holds her hands where the soldier can see them.
Part of her is immediately furious, rising up a sharp, bitter mess of emotions. Don't carry your gun, it'll make you a target. Good job of making them not targets being unarmed was, now. All they had to defend themselves was sticks and stones, and even if she had the stomach to bash in this girl's skull, the odds she could do it without getting shot first were none to bloody negative figures.
This wasn't right. Enemy soldiers in Hell. Her sanctuary. Their sanctuary. It makes her gut feel all full of acid, chewing away at her.
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The harsh words Ellie greets Em with don't do anything to her. In fact, she's just making sure she can at least keep the girl behind her. Guns make her incredibly nervous, that much is known, and obviously, guns pointed at herself make that worse by the dozen. Still, Em can be pretty fierce when it comes to the people she loves and Ellie is definitely in that list, so she'll keep the girl behind her at all cost, even if that means grabbing her and shoving her back.
"Ellie, please. This isn't--" What? Her fight? Em doesn't even know what's she's doing. She grist her teeth, shakes her head, and then speaks in Bosnian, because she really can't speak Serbian. She's sure the girl can understand at least part of it, because of the expression on her face. It doesn't even matter that the Queen has made the sick twisted choice of turning that boy into a girl here, doesn't even find it odd. «I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know what else to do. Please, don't. Don't.»"
Of course, the soldier girl is exactly what Ellie had said when they had their big discussion about guns and war. She isn't a child, not in the sense people perceive children, innocent and good. No, she is a war orphan, and she's ruthless and compassionateless. She isn't the sort of person to be persuaded by soft words and pleading gestures. Or wasn't - at least, the phantom, the reflection of what the girl once was, isn't. If anything, Em's words just make her aim the rifle more surely and shout words that Emilia can't understand that well, only barely.
"C'est des conneries," it just slips out in panic. And she feels so guilty about this, as if all of this is her fault. This was supposed to be just a walk with Ellie, just a nice little stroll to her piece of home. And now it's ruined by the Queen's temper tanthrum that's jeopardizing everyone's safety. "Shit." She keeps her hands raised like they're white flags, like that will make the girl lower her gun, "I'm so sorry, Ellie."
For everything. For telling her to hide the gun, for bringing her into this mess, for... just for everything that has happened to her and that Em couldn't stop, couldn't be there for her. The fact that this soldier boy turned into a girl makes her stomach turn; the fear that sometimes gnaws at her at night took a step closer to reality. What if, indeed, that soldier had been Ellie?
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Those eyes remind her of a lot of things. The soldiers that took them to Stratton, full of accusation and fear and hatred. This feels worse, somehow, more intense, and those eyes aren't even directed at her. It's all on Em.
Her throat constricts. It's all on Em. It's a gun shot at one of her friends, and all she can think of is Corrie bleeding in the jeep as Kevin pulls away, of that terrified, uncertain look on Robyn's face as she pulls out the pin. Shut up, Em. Don't be a moron, and don't apologise, and don't act like this is-- don't act however she's acting, because it's freaking her out.
"Hey." Hoarse, at first. Quiet and strangled, like her vocal cords are in denial about what's being asked of them. Louder, this time: "Hey! Look at me, you miserable little shit!"
There's no plan. She has no idea what she's doing, in fact. No idea if it'll do anything. Just yelling at this soldier, with the desperate hope it might make a difference.
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"Ellie, don't!"
Maybe it's a different type of thinking. Maybe their wars are different. But soldiers are soldiers and war is war, so sometimes, shouting is not the best solution - and sometimes it's the only solution. This time around, though, it doesn't seem like the best solution because the soldier points the rifle at her instead and shouts something, pointing to the ground.
"не она. Молим." Em shouts instead, redirecting her attention to her. Her Serbian is pretty bad, but joining "no", "she" and "please" isn't that hard and it is the only way she can say "Don't harm her, please"
The soldier glares at Em and she starts speaking very fast, like both of them understand her, but only the sentiment is transparent, and that is maybe enough to get the general idea of it. It's angry and sad and desperate and it seethes of revenge - of blood revenge, the kind of hatred that made the Serbians stalk forward and take the lives of all of those that dared to oppose, the Bosnians, that hatred that made war possible.
So it should not come off as a surprise - but it does - when without warning, she pulls the trigger. Em shouts in surprise and fear, covering her face. She holds her breath and for a moment, she's glad she's alive, but the next second there's a sharp pain and it's hard to breathe in again. She doesn't want to look down at first, just stares at the girl that says her last words before disappearing in a cloud of dust.
Those words meant "your blood for mine" and though Em couldn't translate that, she gets the idea.
It's sudden - not the pain, but the lack of strength in her legs. She hisses and gasps almost surprised, holding her hand over her stomach as she falls down on her knees like a tree that has been cut down. There's wet and red all over her stomach and she presses down against the wound with a sob, because it really hurts. And it's not like the movies at all, she can't hold back the strangled whimpers of pain and the galloping breath that arise from the pain of the wound. She can't even form a coherent sentence.
God, it hurts so bad, and there's blood everywhere.
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Everything starts going slow. Her neck snaps around to face Em, colour draining from her face faster than anything as she crumples forward onto the floor.
There was a time, back in Stratton. After they lost the Kiwis, when they went to rescue Lee. If another one of her group had died, she knew it'd be the end of her. End of her life, right then and there. Losing another friend or never seeing her parents again, those were the two things that she knew would end her. She surges into action, frantically looking around for the soldier, making sure she won't get shot herself, but that little bitch has gone.
(And maybe she gets it. She knows what war does, but that doesn't change that she just shot Em in cold blood, not because she needed to or because there was no other choice. All these thoughts are flying through her head at a few hundred kilometres per hour, before she closes the distance between them, hand immediately pressing to Em's abdomen, shoulders shrugging off her loose cotton shirt to press against it, staunch the bleeding.
"Oh, God." This was too familiar. She didn't need phantoms, not when this was happening all over again. "Em, just stay calm, okay? Keep breathing." Who the person saying stay calm and keep breathing was she had no idea, but she'd be strangling herself later for sprouting out such calm bullshit when she couldn't get a hold of her thoughts.
Blood is everywhere. She'd forgotten people could bleed this much. One hand is wrapping around Em to help support her. "You gotta lie down, okay."
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Em has always led a rather secluded life, all things considered. The girl next door type of thing, really. Just average. She has broken an arm after slipping down from the roof when she was younger, has been held at gun point once, but never once had she been shot. She had no idea of the pain that the bullet can inflict when shot like that. And it's not just any bullet, either, it's a rifle, a different calibre from those handguns from the movies. It inflicts a lot more damage and she isn't going to be sorry for the loud, painful groaning through clenched teeth. She slumps a little when Ellie grabs her, not bothering to hold back the tears burning her eyes.
She just nods and complies, slowly laying down, trying to look at the wound and all she sees is blood and she cries out, holding her bloodied hand over her forehead. She doesn't say it, because even at a time like this, she's keeping things to herself, always an introvert, but all she can think about is dying. And she doesn't want to die, she doesn't want to die at all, so she's just sobbing in pain, not knowing how to get out of there.
"You need-- You need to go get help," she gasps in between sobs, pressing her hand over Ellie's on the shirt trying to block the bleeding. "You need to get help, please." She's not quite as talking as much as she is breathing out those words, clearly frightened, scared for her life.
In a time of panic such as this, you can't really blame the woman for being so terrified for her life - because she really is and that's all that she can think about. Dying and pain, and it's such a panic inducing situation to look down and see so much blood and then slowly realizing that it's all hers. She's trying to breath, but keeping calm, well, that much can't be accomplished right now because usually, she is a very calm lady, but getting shot is certainly not something she would deal with her cool and collected demeanour.
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