|ives_rancher (ives_rancher) wrote in bsg93_avalon,|
@ 2009-01-18 01:00:00
|Entry tags:||collin ives|
Thump. His feet made contact with the sandy soil, followed by the calf of his leg, thigh, and then finally he managed to roll over onto his back. He could see through the clear visor of his helmet up at the clear blue sky. His heartbeat pounded in his chest after his narrow escape from the fire ball that was his Viper Mark VII. “I’m alive,” and then in the same breath “frak, Erin.”
He shot up back up onto his legs. His parachuted tugged him back at the shoulders, so he released a clip to deflate the chute, followed by the release of the second clip to release him completely from the chute. He turned around to search the horizon for another orange and white parachute.
There it was about 500 meters away on top of a sand dune, partially inflated by the breeze and dragging the other pilot. “Erin!” He spoke but got no reply. He undid his helmet and lifted it off his head, and then threw it to the ground as he started to run to his wingman…
Aerilon present day
Ives blinked, as he sat on the tail of the ranch’s well used pick-up truck with a can of beer in his hand, as his eyes gazed out onto the horizon. The sun began to set, like it always had in the wide valley leading out to the great lake. Ives finished off his beer, and threw the empty can into the back of the bed of the pick-up.