Ben Krohn Hawkins (new_management) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-01-29 20:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | !open |
Who: Ben Hawkins and open.
Where: Somewhere ... somewhere. (The beach.)
What: Arriving.
When: Tuesday afternoon.
Rating: Low.
Open: Yes!
Status: Ongoing.
Warning: To repeat after Sara - "Contains season finale spoilers; it’s only two seasons - you should definitely go and watch it, then come back here (and pick up a character ;)". Just because she put it down pretty damn near perfect anyway.
You really never know what you are going to miss until it is all gone, gone, gone- While sentenced to twenty-four years on the chain gang, he'd missed his mother and the farm, but mostly the farm, because it was supposed to be his - But that seems like a long forgotten memory now. With the curtains drawn, the wooden shutters closed and only Samson going in and out far too quickly for him to get a glimpse of the world outside of his wagon, it was far too easy to lose track of time. It was a story of endless days where he was at every whim and mercy of a rickety old trailer, shuffled along over endless trails, straight through nameless towns, abandoned farms. A story he couldn't repeat even if he wanted to, because it was all awkwardly wrapped up in a haze of persistent pain and morphine. Morphine of which he has no idea how a struggling carnival had managed to afford, but he's thankful for it all the same. During the moments when the effects of the morphine dulled and the pain overwhelmed him until the wagon became nothing more than an oversized, stuffy coffin, fresh air, sunlight, the ground beneath his feet and solid food became nothing but a dream - A dream he wasn't sure was his anymore. And so his fate seemed have been decided - an eternity of hurting, sleeping and waiting until the next avatar showed up and would kill him. But then he breathes in the crisp sea air that, after his prolonged stay in the Management's wagon, feels foreign to his lungs. Hears nothing more but the waves rolling in and out, crashing down on the ocean floor; it's unlike anything he's ever heard in his life. He even tries to grasp at the sheets around him, only to get a handful of grass. And he sure doesn't need to open his eyes to tell he's in the sunlight - these are all things of the things he missed, even if he's never seen the ocean until today. He carefully brings his hand up to his abdomen, lets out a relieved sigh at the absence of blood, closes his eyes when his hand comes back clean. Maybe they've finally had enough. He couldn't blame them. He's been a handful. Biting back a loud groan, he rolls over in the sand. Presses his hands into the loose soil and tries to push himself up. And a familiar pain soars through him when he gets up on both feet and looks at this strange landscape through jaded eyes. Pain radiates downwards, lights up every single, tiny nerve in his body and every step is more of a struggle than the one before. Choosing to ignore the homes in the distance - because he's far too well known these days - he moves on, taking one slow step after the other. And every step takes him closer to one realization; he's not alone. |