Resignation [#31 and #29]
Jul. 26th, 2010 09:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roesslyngTitle: Resignation
Fandom: APH Anon Meme Battle Royale
Characters/Pairing: #31 and #29
Rating: 10+
Length: 575
Summary: Loose interpretation of events that took place during the APH anon meme's Battle Royale event.
Other: Posted in my sketchjournal. (Original entry)
Resignation
They had become separated.
They had been going together, him leading the way, the only one who was armed. The pine needles on the forest floor padded their steps. They had been looking for a place to hide, or at least for a place for her to hide, some tight safe space she could curl into and stay until he came back with something with which she could defend herself.
He had told her that he would make sure she was safe.
After a time she touched his arm lightly, told him to go on. They hadn’t found a good space but she would hide, she said. She didn’t want to be in the way. He did not like it, but she told him, it would be fine. He could move more quickly if she wasn’t there. She would hide. He left her curled up securely in the thick branches of a tree, and promised to return, and to do it quickly.
She had not been there when he had returned, torn up and beaten, the worse for wear, aching from knife wounds he had taken to the chest in a fight. There was no sign of a struggle, nor no sign of her, and there was no sound except for the sound of birds chirping, the hush of breeze-swept branches, and his own quick, anxious breathing.
He hadn’t dared to call her name. She might not answer. Someone else might answer.
There was no choice. He had picked a direction at random, and set out to find her before someone else did.
His plan was simple. He would find her. He would keep her beside him. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight again.
They would get through it together. They would. They would. Or if they couldn’t leave together, if it came to be either her or him in the end, he would turn his gun on himself. Let her be the one. Let her leave alive. But it wouldn’t come to that, it wouldn’t. They would find a way out, together. He decided that, and it would be so.
He spent hours looking for her. Eventually, he found her.
What he found of her was not what he expected to find.
Not long, a voice in the back of his mind said while his hands worked quickly, taking what he could of what she had somehow managed to acquire without his aid. It hadn’t been long. Still fresh, far too fresh, the body barely even cold. He pushed the voice in his head back as he stripped off her vest, scooped up the gun that lay on the ground beside her. Then he made his way back into the thick of the trees, slunk under the cover of a patch of thick brush nearby, needing to gather his bearings.
His hands shook. He blamed it on the wounds in his chest. They pained him.
His eyes stung. He blamed it on the pine bushes surrounding him. The scent of evergreen was too strong, irritated them.
One breath. Two. He bit his lip and breathed in deeply. One breath. Another. Slow, steady. He willed himself calm, willed his hands steady.
He would be the one to leave. Where before there had been uncertainty as to whether she would leave alone or they would find a way to go safely on together, there was no doubt now how it would be.
She couldn’t leave.
He would finish and he would leave, because she couldn’t.
Fandom: APH Anon Meme Battle Royale
Characters/Pairing: #31 and #29
Rating: 10+
Length: 575
Summary: Loose interpretation of events that took place during the APH anon meme's Battle Royale event.
Other: Posted in my sketchjournal. (Original entry)
Resignation
They had become separated.
They had been going together, him leading the way, the only one who was armed. The pine needles on the forest floor padded their steps. They had been looking for a place to hide, or at least for a place for her to hide, some tight safe space she could curl into and stay until he came back with something with which she could defend herself.
He had told her that he would make sure she was safe.
After a time she touched his arm lightly, told him to go on. They hadn’t found a good space but she would hide, she said. She didn’t want to be in the way. He did not like it, but she told him, it would be fine. He could move more quickly if she wasn’t there. She would hide. He left her curled up securely in the thick branches of a tree, and promised to return, and to do it quickly.
She had not been there when he had returned, torn up and beaten, the worse for wear, aching from knife wounds he had taken to the chest in a fight. There was no sign of a struggle, nor no sign of her, and there was no sound except for the sound of birds chirping, the hush of breeze-swept branches, and his own quick, anxious breathing.
He hadn’t dared to call her name. She might not answer. Someone else might answer.
There was no choice. He had picked a direction at random, and set out to find her before someone else did.
His plan was simple. He would find her. He would keep her beside him. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight again.
They would get through it together. They would. They would. Or if they couldn’t leave together, if it came to be either her or him in the end, he would turn his gun on himself. Let her be the one. Let her leave alive. But it wouldn’t come to that, it wouldn’t. They would find a way out, together. He decided that, and it would be so.
He spent hours looking for her. Eventually, he found her.
What he found of her was not what he expected to find.
Not long, a voice in the back of his mind said while his hands worked quickly, taking what he could of what she had somehow managed to acquire without his aid. It hadn’t been long. Still fresh, far too fresh, the body barely even cold. He pushed the voice in his head back as he stripped off her vest, scooped up the gun that lay on the ground beside her. Then he made his way back into the thick of the trees, slunk under the cover of a patch of thick brush nearby, needing to gather his bearings.
His hands shook. He blamed it on the wounds in his chest. They pained him.
His eyes stung. He blamed it on the pine bushes surrounding him. The scent of evergreen was too strong, irritated them.
One breath. Two. He bit his lip and breathed in deeply. One breath. Another. Slow, steady. He willed himself calm, willed his hands steady.
He would be the one to leave. Where before there had been uncertainty as to whether she would leave alone or they would find a way to go safely on together, there was no doubt now how it would be.
She couldn’t leave.
He would finish and he would leave, because she couldn’t.
