like a ship into the storm (qh vs. lc, day 4)
Nov 3, 2019 14:46:21 GMT -5
Post by Stare on Nov 3, 2019 14:46:21 GMT -5
Ridley didn’t watch the Anthem that night. She didn’t want to see Torren’s face. She had counted the cannons, though. Five dead. It wasn’t much, but it was progress.
Moving Milo the next day was slow and painful. The world around them shimmered with a thin sheen of frost, their breaths spiraling into the air like mangled lace. Ridley let Milo keep her cloak, instead electing to put on the old sweater she’d picked up on the first day. It helped conceal where Milo’s blood had smeared across her abdomen. As the day sank into a silvery, monochromatic darkness, Ridley felt herself do the same.
Torren was gone, and he’d broken a part of her when he left. Now she was free to unleash her full fury on the Arena.
There would be no survivors.
Eventually they stumbled upon what appeared to have once been an old fashioned mill. Like everything else they’d seen before it was wilting and haunted, looking as if it could be centuries old even despite the fact that Ridley knew it had probably been manufactured in the past year. She helped Milo inside, hoping for some additional shelter from the cold, and marveled at the dust and frost that mingled on all surfaces.
The stairs caught Ridley’s attention. Higher ground. She glanced at Delaney, hoping the other Career also recognized the advantage, before shifting in that direction. “Come on,” she muttered to Milo, painstakingly helping him up one step at a time. “Just a little further, then we can rest.”
Once they were on the roof she eased Milo back onto his own remaining leg and stepped toward the edge. The landscape before her felt frozen and dead, unnervingly quiet. The strange floating lights shimmered off of the river and floated through the haze that came off of it, mingling with a starlight that felt strangely sinister. Ridley took the opportunity to let her eyes flutter shut, taking in a deep breath of crisp air.
Upon her exhale, she heard footsteps.
As she whipped around her eyebrows shot up, recognizing the faces in front of her. Her gaze darted toward her allies. “Delaney,” she said, and she wasn’t sure if her tone was cautious or eager.
It was time to collect on a debt.
No survivors.
Moving Milo the next day was slow and painful. The world around them shimmered with a thin sheen of frost, their breaths spiraling into the air like mangled lace. Ridley let Milo keep her cloak, instead electing to put on the old sweater she’d picked up on the first day. It helped conceal where Milo’s blood had smeared across her abdomen. As the day sank into a silvery, monochromatic darkness, Ridley felt herself do the same.
Torren was gone, and he’d broken a part of her when he left. Now she was free to unleash her full fury on the Arena.
There would be no survivors.
Eventually they stumbled upon what appeared to have once been an old fashioned mill. Like everything else they’d seen before it was wilting and haunted, looking as if it could be centuries old even despite the fact that Ridley knew it had probably been manufactured in the past year. She helped Milo inside, hoping for some additional shelter from the cold, and marveled at the dust and frost that mingled on all surfaces.
The stairs caught Ridley’s attention. Higher ground. She glanced at Delaney, hoping the other Career also recognized the advantage, before shifting in that direction. “Come on,” she muttered to Milo, painstakingly helping him up one step at a time. “Just a little further, then we can rest.”
Once they were on the roof she eased Milo back onto his own remaining leg and stepped toward the edge. The landscape before her felt frozen and dead, unnervingly quiet. The strange floating lights shimmered off of the river and floated through the haze that came off of it, mingling with a starlight that felt strangely sinister. Ridley took the opportunity to let her eyes flutter shut, taking in a deep breath of crisp air.
Upon her exhale, she heard footsteps.
As she whipped around her eyebrows shot up, recognizing the faces in front of her. Her gaze darted toward her allies. “Delaney,” she said, and she wasn’t sure if her tone was cautious or eager.
It was time to collect on a debt.
No survivors.
{D1F RIDLEY LE ROUX attacks D5M TOMMY OʼKELLY, JR.; scythe (GLAIVE)}
CC7oZ3x7lQglaive
{shallow cut on left thigh, 3.5}
title lyrics from start a riot, by banners
table credit goes to the fabulous shrimp!
![Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] Avatar](https://64.media.tumblr.com/de401f4e6e4ca07c241afc45583f7195/d2f1890293928896-84/s500x750/0ba6fe3572f4f5f72b52d28965cfcda71e4171a0.png)
