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District Memories // [Garnet & Marceline, Day 3]
Mar 14, 2024 13:01:58 GMT -5
Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Mar 14, 2024 13:01:58 GMT -5
The carriage jolted and lurched alarmingly as Velvet sped Rhys and Garnet away from the battlefield. Every bump and thunk rattled his fragile bones, made his wounds ooze fresh blood. It wasn't long before he wilted against the side of the carriage, nearly heaving, his skin ashen.
The little puffguin who usually resided in the crook of his arm tumbled free. After some wave-action on the floor of the carriage he managed to haul himself up, squeeze through the privacy window, and hop onto Velvet's back.
The carriage right itself, slowed, and came to a gentle stop.
Garnet barely made out the door before he emptied the last remnants of crackers onto the arena's floor. The wind whipped across his face, stinging his eyes, bringing him back to the present.
Jericho was dead.
And he was badly, badly hurt.
Clutching his abdomen Garnet forced himself upright. Through the fog and the lightning and wailing muttations it was impossible to tell if they'd gone far, far away or if they had only driven in circles. The only distinct feature nearby seemed to be some sort of pit. "I'm going to check it out," he said as much to himself as to Rhys and then slunk towards the pile of bones.
He could feel his heart beating upwards, as though it was trying to escape his chest through his throat. Every step brought him closer to doom, certainly, but also maybe closer to healing. All the open wounds ached bitterly; whatever the tributes had attacked with him had seeped into his bloodstream. He needed more than what he had which drove him one step forward...
Until the street lights flickered on, banishing the screeching mutts, and revealing -- once more -- a familiar figure.
Garnet promptly burst into tears.
The little puffguin who usually resided in the crook of his arm tumbled free. After some wave-action on the floor of the carriage he managed to haul himself up, squeeze through the privacy window, and hop onto Velvet's back.
The carriage right itself, slowed, and came to a gentle stop.
Garnet barely made out the door before he emptied the last remnants of crackers onto the arena's floor. The wind whipped across his face, stinging his eyes, bringing him back to the present.
Jericho was dead.
And he was badly, badly hurt.
Clutching his abdomen Garnet forced himself upright. Through the fog and the lightning and wailing muttations it was impossible to tell if they'd gone far, far away or if they had only driven in circles. The only distinct feature nearby seemed to be some sort of pit. "I'm going to check it out," he said as much to himself as to Rhys and then slunk towards the pile of bones.
He could feel his heart beating upwards, as though it was trying to escape his chest through his throat. Every step brought him closer to doom, certainly, but also maybe closer to healing. All the open wounds ached bitterly; whatever the tributes had attacked with him had seeped into his bloodstream. He needed more than what he had which drove him one step forward...
Until the street lights flickered on, banishing the screeching mutts, and revealing -- once more -- a familiar figure.
Garnet promptly burst into tears.
1-7
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