Well, you know, we all wanna change the world.
He wasn't supposed to be there.
Jude wasn't supposed to have come to the rally, wasn't supposed to have come after her, wasn't supposed to see her being taken away by the police, but there he was, reaching from behind the human barricade, and all she could do was scream for him. It was a divide that wasn't meant to be crossed, this was about Max and he wasn't involved in her political life, he'd made that clear, and oh, God, if she could just get to him, if she could just pull herself free...
But she couldn't, hard as she struggled, yelling and twisting and pulling and shouting to reach for him. They were closer, they could do it, their fighting didn't matter so long as they could get to each other. Her fingers interlocked with his for one brief moment, her sweaty palm slipping in her attempts to keep holding him, to try to find some way to end all this. They'd gotten Paco, they'd gotten countless others, she wouldn't let them get Jude even if it meant letting them get her. This wasn't his place, he didn't belong here, and she could find a way to do it, to get him away. She was being pulled farther away, though, the rough touch of the policemen restraining her, like she wasn't a person, like none of them were people. Her shouts echoed the hundreds of what felt like thousands of others, his name and nothing else, alternately low and screeching, like it would make a difference, and before long all she could do was watch. Her helplessness was excruciating, her fighting was in vain and she knew it, but she couldn't give up, couldn't let herself give up, and -
And Jude went down. A blow to the face and he was on the ground, nearly being trampled, further and further and further into the distance as she was continuously pulled backwards, hands balled into tight fists that she knew would accomplish nothing. She was still repeating his name, over and over until her voice went hoarse, it was worth it to struggle, to fight, so hard that she didn't even realize when things were changing. There were still hands restraining her, that was what she knew, a grip she needed to break free from, and that - him - was all that mattered now.
[Jim Halpert's the first to find her, other things you should know are in the post in Slated, tags after the first can find her with basic island knowledge...in the rec room, say. It should also be noted that she looks like a slightly older version of former island resident Tracy Freeland. Slowtimey for a bit, all sorts of tags welcome. :D]
Jude wasn't supposed to have come to the rally, wasn't supposed to have come after her, wasn't supposed to see her being taken away by the police, but there he was, reaching from behind the human barricade, and all she could do was scream for him. It was a divide that wasn't meant to be crossed, this was about Max and he wasn't involved in her political life, he'd made that clear, and oh, God, if she could just get to him, if she could just pull herself free...
But she couldn't, hard as she struggled, yelling and twisting and pulling and shouting to reach for him. They were closer, they could do it, their fighting didn't matter so long as they could get to each other. Her fingers interlocked with his for one brief moment, her sweaty palm slipping in her attempts to keep holding him, to try to find some way to end all this. They'd gotten Paco, they'd gotten countless others, she wouldn't let them get Jude even if it meant letting them get her. This wasn't his place, he didn't belong here, and she could find a way to do it, to get him away. She was being pulled farther away, though, the rough touch of the policemen restraining her, like she wasn't a person, like none of them were people. Her shouts echoed the hundreds of what felt like thousands of others, his name and nothing else, alternately low and screeching, like it would make a difference, and before long all she could do was watch. Her helplessness was excruciating, her fighting was in vain and she knew it, but she couldn't give up, couldn't let herself give up, and -
And Jude went down. A blow to the face and he was on the ground, nearly being trampled, further and further and further into the distance as she was continuously pulled backwards, hands balled into tight fists that she knew would accomplish nothing. She was still repeating his name, over and over until her voice went hoarse, it was worth it to struggle, to fight, so hard that she didn't even realize when things were changing. There were still hands restraining her, that was what she knew, a grip she needed to break free from, and that - him - was all that mattered now.
[Jim Halpert's the first to find her, other things you should know are in the post in Slated, tags after the first can find her with basic island knowledge...in the rec room, say. It should also be noted that she looks like a slightly older version of former island resident Tracy Freeland. Slowtimey for a bit, all sorts of tags welcome. :D]