Sound of Steel and Boxcars [A&D Travel Day 1]

[Preston Garrity d4m [Tribsit]]

Reality

Preston march garrity

i know it's dire, my time today

My temples throbbed at my mind's extraordinarily chaotic vacancy; in a sense, I hadn't expected everything to move so quickly. It felt like only seconds ago I was on my platelet, preparing to rush off, or away, or into the very eye of panic that I had so conscientiously avoided. Now, though, I had truly witnessed the storm in its varying ferociousness, and as the screams of my comrades began to become muted by the pumping of my blood, I almost felt like throwing up.

I could still hear the yelling, but it's the only thing that's audible to me. Feeling the same almost off-balanced feeling I always got when my ears faltered, I focused on Asher as though breaking my gaze from his back would send me tumbling down an abyss. As it was, I wasn't strong at the moment. I was covered in wounds and blood, most of which was mine. Each step made me more lightheaded, but I knew we had to keep moving so I pushed on. My jaw was clenched and I cradled my mangled hand to my chest, trying to serve the purpose of protecting the broken limb and staunching the flow blood from the chest wound.

It helped to hide my flesh from the cameras, too.

"I think we should take this. See where it takes us." 'This' became apparent as I finally pulled my eyes from my sanctuary to see what lay before us. The blast of a train whistle cut through the deadness and the screams in my ears so that they rang and then were able to pick up finer sounds. I could hear the sound of the train settling, a creaking sound that could only be steel, and the sound of our heavy breathing. There was even the faint pat pat pat of blood dripping from my wounds.

Asher enters the train hesitantly, and my own footsteps sound like cannons to my freshly returned hearing. My knives, never used, had been stuffed into my pockets and waitband with haste as I snatched them up. Now I retrieved one in my good hand, thankful that it hadn't been my right that had been broken. I don't think I would have been any use with the weapons if that had been the case. My shoulders are tense and I ache all over but I don't move from the doorway of the train car until Asher decides it's safe.

When my only companion, my only friend - if I can be brave enough to call him that - sits down and places his sword on the table beside him I ease myself into a chair opposite. Carefully, I settle my damaged hand onto the table and then unload my pointed cargo to rest near Asher's sword. All eleven blades gleamed brightly, without a single drop of blood on them. We had only just managed to snatch them up before being set upon. It was a wonder we were still alive, let alone that we still had our weapons.

I shut my eyes for a moment, willing the tears to go away. I hadn't realized I had been so close to crying but now it was all I could do to keep myself steady. One sob escaped my chest, probably through the gash, and jarred my broken hand. "Fuck."

Below me, the floor of the train car rumbles and I surmise that we're now moving.

When we stop Asher is up in a breath's time and grabbing my throwing knives. I don't think, not much anyway, instead simply following the lead given and snagging my good hand around the hilt of the sword. I couldn't leave it behind, and I couldn't leave here empty handed. The moment the train door opens we're both hopping down. I bite into my lip as I land, my battered body protesting the sudden lurch and crash. We're bolting for the only building we can see before we fully recognize what it is.

I only think of finding shelter.

[Preston switches weapons with Asher]

wc: 662

song: Car radio

[Asher Rainer 7m {tribsit}]

Something beautiful

ASHER RAINER

                           or something free?    

TAG: WORDS: 703. NOTES: 

They turned on him. Attacking one of the youngest tributes almost wiping him out completely, yet somehow they managed to escape. Asher and Preston. Gunner was nowhere insight, and in away it made him feel anxious. Was she one of the fallen in the bloodbath? Would they eventually find her again? It was unknown to him at this very moment. His first priority was patching up Preston. A kid who reminded him so much of his younger brother. Almost my family. But in the end if he stood in the way of total victory, Asher would kill him. Family was more important. Something that he held close to him.

Right now, this was a death match. A battle of life and death. Hopefully the youngest of the tributes were safe. He dreaded the day of seeing their faces in the sky, but better them than his. Right now he wanted to patch Pres up. Make sure that he was alright. In a way it made him sick. Knowing what the others were capable of. Could he kill if the time was right? Could he kill Preston if he had to? Right now he wanted to protect him. Make sure that the young tribute was safe from harms way, but in the end only could flee the games. Only one could return home to their family. Asher missed his family. All his step-siblings. None of them deserved this. Watching the eldest run through the games. Perhaps it would save them. Keep them alive knowing that he was trying.

Holding onto the sword - it was his lifeline - he journeyed away from the cornucopia making sure his ally was following along. Losing him now wasn't an option because he'd already lost one. Somewhere in the midst of the war. Hopefully she was alive, but in the end it was one less tribute to worry about. One less person standing in the way of victory. Only two cannons had sounded. Two died somehow. It's such a mess. A horrible mess. The blood. The gore. All of it, yet none of it stopped him from fighting. The will to carry on. Not for himself. Not for Preston, but for his family. They were watching him. Praying to a god above that he would return safe and sound. Alive.

And he saw it. A giant train like the one that sent him to the Capitol. Surrounding it was a large chasm. One that Asher didn't want to fall in. One that felt unworthy because in the end it only mattered for a split second. Death was certain trying to jump from one side to the other. Thankfully the car of the train flew open. "I think we should take this. See where it takes us." In a moment he breathed in a breath, he lunged towards it stopping inside. His mind racing as he looked around. Not sure what to do or think. Not sure where he was or what he was doing. Hopefully it wasn't a death trap. Hopefully it was something more worthwhile because in the end death was the last thing on his mind. In fact it never once crossed the tribute's mind. Asher was sure of that.

Walking through the car of the train, Asher looked around making sure the coast was clear before turning back towards the tribute from four. One of the younger tributes here. Still, a twelve year old from eight volunteered, but she's nowhere to be found. Not here at this moment. When he realized the train was clear, he sat down in one of the chairs before placing the sword down on the table in front of him. His eyes fix on the boy wondering what could possibly happen. It was wrong to judge someone, yet the kid could fight. His training score told him. It was all he needed to keep going. To keep the fight going strong.

And then the train stopped. His mind racing, he swept up a weapon without thinking, and was ready to go. Ready to defend himself and Preston. Right now that was all he could think about. Slowly he prepared, and once the door was open, he jumped off the train.