Llena eres de gracia
Title: Llena eres de gracia
Fandom: Band of Brothers
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Though based on the experiences of real heroes, this was inspired by characters portrayed in the HBO miniseries Band of Brothers. No harm is intended and only the deepest respect and admiration are offered.
He stepped into nothingness. Air rushed around him, his stomach in knots as he clung to his desperate recitation. one one thousand two one thousand In his mind he could see the ground rushing towards him faster and faster, he could feel his whole body tighten in panic as he saw himself plunging into the ground. three one thousand four one thousand dios te salve maria, llena eres de gracia, ruega por nosotros pecadores five one thousand
The rip-cord caught and his whole body jerked as the canopy unfurled and was caught in the wind. He opened his eyes and saw the green world spread out beneath him, the sun glinting off the windows of thousands of tiny houses. He saw a sky full of parachutes that lazily drifted towards the ground. He was amazed by a sudden surge of gratitude and exhilaration. He was alive, they were all alive and the world was a beautiful place. padre nuestro, que estas en el cielo, santificado sea tu nombre
The ground rushed closer and closer and instincts honed by hours and hours of training took over. He fell and rolled, unsnapped his harness and grabbed his rifle. He felt as if he had been doing this all his life, it felt more natural than eating a tortilla or climbing a naranjo. Running pel mel across a Dutch field was real and present and all that mattered.
“Hey, Garcia!” he heard a voice call from behind. He stopped and turned, his focus readjusting. He saw Miller and Hashey jogging up and he grinned, a pressure he hadn’t even been aware of lifting away from his shoulders.
“How’d you do?” Miller asked when they caught up, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth that Garcia would’ve missed entirely if he hadn’t known him as well as he did.
“Just fine,” Garcia replied with a hint of bravado. “Smoothest jump I ever made.”
“Hashey here had a bit of trouble,” Miller commented with the quirk of an eyebrow. “Sergeant Randleman had to help him out.”
“My harness got stuck,” Hashey mumbled, his whole face turning a few shades pinker. “It wasn’t nothing.”
“Course not. Just like it wasn’t you who pissed in his boots when the plane took off,” Garcia jibed.
“I didn’t fucking piss myself!” Hashey gritted and aimed a punch at Garcia’s shoulder. Both Miller and Garcia burst out laughing when Hashey missed and flapped his arms to keep from falling flat on his face.
“Hustle it up back there!” they heard Randleman bellow from up front. Without response or hesitation they broke into a run, their strides vaulting them over wildflowers hiding in the grass.
Fandom: Band of Brothers
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Though based on the experiences of real heroes, this was inspired by characters portrayed in the HBO miniseries Band of Brothers. No harm is intended and only the deepest respect and admiration are offered.
He stepped into nothingness. Air rushed around him, his stomach in knots as he clung to his desperate recitation. one one thousand two one thousand In his mind he could see the ground rushing towards him faster and faster, he could feel his whole body tighten in panic as he saw himself plunging into the ground. three one thousand four one thousand dios te salve maria, llena eres de gracia, ruega por nosotros pecadores five one thousand
The rip-cord caught and his whole body jerked as the canopy unfurled and was caught in the wind. He opened his eyes and saw the green world spread out beneath him, the sun glinting off the windows of thousands of tiny houses. He saw a sky full of parachutes that lazily drifted towards the ground. He was amazed by a sudden surge of gratitude and exhilaration. He was alive, they were all alive and the world was a beautiful place. padre nuestro, que estas en el cielo, santificado sea tu nombre
The ground rushed closer and closer and instincts honed by hours and hours of training took over. He fell and rolled, unsnapped his harness and grabbed his rifle. He felt as if he had been doing this all his life, it felt more natural than eating a tortilla or climbing a naranjo. Running pel mel across a Dutch field was real and present and all that mattered.
“Hey, Garcia!” he heard a voice call from behind. He stopped and turned, his focus readjusting. He saw Miller and Hashey jogging up and he grinned, a pressure he hadn’t even been aware of lifting away from his shoulders.
“How’d you do?” Miller asked when they caught up, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth that Garcia would’ve missed entirely if he hadn’t known him as well as he did.
“Just fine,” Garcia replied with a hint of bravado. “Smoothest jump I ever made.”
“Hashey here had a bit of trouble,” Miller commented with the quirk of an eyebrow. “Sergeant Randleman had to help him out.”
“My harness got stuck,” Hashey mumbled, his whole face turning a few shades pinker. “It wasn’t nothing.”
“Course not. Just like it wasn’t you who pissed in his boots when the plane took off,” Garcia jibed.
“I didn’t fucking piss myself!” Hashey gritted and aimed a punch at Garcia’s shoulder. Both Miller and Garcia burst out laughing when Hashey missed and flapped his arms to keep from falling flat on his face.
“Hustle it up back there!” they heard Randleman bellow from up front. Without response or hesitation they broke into a run, their strides vaulting them over wildflowers hiding in the grass.