Mac (second_bee_) wrote in nomadsrpg, @ 2013-12-01 20:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | chet, mac, open, savage, week four |
Week Four- Tuesday- Night
Who: Mac and Savage
Where: Mac's place
When: Week Four; Tuesday, Night
What: Mac wakes from a horrible nightmare then decides to take a walk.
Rating: PG-13
Status: In progress
There was blood everywhere. On the ground, on the leaves of the shrubs, and all over her hands. So much blood. Almost like someone was trying to paint the forest with red paint. Like, 'painting the roses red' from that Alice book. Black sky and red ground with a chorus of screams and gunshots. It looked like a gory scene from an action flick, except it was all too real in Mac's eyes. Breathing heavily, she looked from one dead body to another, putting her bloody hands on them to assure their deaths were accurate.
There was crying coming from somewhere. Was it a child? A battered woman? A slaver begging for his life? Mac couldn't tell but she moved towards it anyways. Just as she moved brush out of the way and saw a beat up woman, she felt a sharp pain as her arm was jerked behind her and the sound of bones breaking was heard. Mac screamed at the harsh pain, gaining enough sense to use her good arm to shoot the assaulter in the face, his blood splattering over her face and the other woman's.
The echoing sound of the shot woke her from her nightmare of a memory. Mac was back in her own room, safe, clean, arm nearly healed. And yet her heart was beating a mile a minute and she darted her eyes around her room for assailants. It took a good portion ten minutes for Mac's mind to comprehend her present scenery. "Fuck," she exasperated, throwing her covers off of her and getting out of bed.
She slipped off her night dress, something she started wearing to make it easier for her to put on and take off with her busted arm and shoulder, Mac picked out a button up, long sleeved shirt and black jeans to wear. She winced as she slipped the shirt on over her bad arm, but it was better than pulling it over her head. She looked at her hands as she buttoned it up, looking for any traces of blood. Since the war had ended, Mac felt like she couldn't get her hands clean enough, like there was a ghost stain of blood always on her hands. She didn't know where this was coming from, but it did bother her. Of course, she told no one about it.
Mac left her room and the building all together, just needed to walk outside in the summer, feel the cool breezes and hear the night creatures moving around, instead of all the things she heard during the war. She needed to hear some normalcy, and probably check on all the boarder guards. Yeah, that will be her story if someone asks: She's check on the boarder guards, making sure they were up and doing their job. She was second, after all, that was one of her jobs to do. But Mac looked down at her hands and inhaled sharply as she thought she saw a glimpse of red on them and then in a blink saw nothing but clean hands.