Tavia Kincaid (i_keep_peace) wrote in expresslogs, @ 2012-11-13 07:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | !open, !plot, ice |
The Witnessing of Tragic Events
Characters: Ice, open
When: Day 1 of Panem // Evening
Location: Front dining car
Warnings/Rating: Slightly graphic description of character death
Summary: Ice sees herself die
Status: Open, ongoing
She recognized it. Of course she recognized it. How could anyone not recognize the home they’d grown up in? She’d watched with some interest the training yard when they’d passed it. It wasn’t her class, but she did recognize the instructors. Later, somehow, the scenery had shifted and she’d watched the avalanche with something like horror. That was after her time -- she would have heard about it if it had happened before. But that wasn’t to be the worst of it. She watched the fighting. Saw the Mockingjay. Then she saw herself. Her head tilted to one side, and it was the weirdest feeling to be seeing herself sprinting across the road, her mouth moving, yelling to someone -- Jerking. Falling. Ice clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle her scream as she stared at herself. A rebel -- it had to be -- came to her, the her outside the window, and placed the tip of his gun against the back of her head. Ice wanted to look away, to turn away, to not see what she was going to see, but she couldn’t. She watched herself be shot. She watched herself die. She watched (and in the back of her mind wondered how, shouldn’t the train be speeding past this scene oh how could she still be seeing this?) the blood pooling, her hair unbound and matting in the red liquid, bits of things -- skull, brain, flesh -- dotting the puddle. Moving away from the window, she knew it would do no good. The scene was burned into her mind. When she closed her eyes, she’d see it still. She’d dream of it, she was sure. Wake screaming with a headache, reaching up to ensure her head was still intact, trembling and shaking. Slowly, she backed away from the window. She wanted to find someone, to see if they’d seen what she’d seen, but there were so few people here now, and fewer still she’d trust. Ray, maybe. If she ran into him … she might try to talk about it. Wrapping her arms around herself, Ice stared at the floor, seeing the scene rolling past her eyes again, and again. Falling. Being shot. Dying. Shuddering, she sank down into the nearest chair, wondering what the train had in store for the others. Not that there were many now this would impact but … Marvel. And Primrose. |