dawn summers | anything but ordinary (niblet) wrote in zombieslogs, @ 2013-10-29 00:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | annabelle, dawn summers |
Who: Dawn Summers & Annabelle
When: Backdated to late Saturday evening/early Sunday morning
Where: Gym
Rating: Medium for language
Status: In progress
Thwap. Thwap, thwap, thwap. The gym echoed with the sounds of Dawn's wrapped fists hitting the punching bag. She'd come here at night deliberately, waiting until it was empty before going down to use it herself. It had been more than a year since she'd come to the prison with her ultimate goal back then of finding Buffy, finding someone. She had hardened at the time, yeah, but had slowly softened over time, especially after learning about Buffy. And finding Connor. Willow. Giles - all the rest. Now, though, no matter what happened or what she did or who said anything...she felt dead inside, particularly since her most recent kidnapping - and no way was she going to think about that anytime soon. She gave smiles at the right time (especially for Connor), occasionally tossed a joke around, took extra sentry shifts and did her job there, pretended she was fine and fucking dandy with everything (even Angel), but inside? Dawn felt empty. And didn't know what to do about it. She couldn't even tell anyone, because what good would it do?
She was strongly beginning to believe that nothing good would ever come out of them all living in this prison together. Honestly, was she the only one who saw what was happening? People dying, people being turned into vampires...they were falling apart, and it was just a matter of time before the prison was a giant pile of rubble in the middle of Nowhere, Washington. She couldn't understand how people could go about their lives as though everything was normal, when it wasn't.
A sharp kick at the punching bag sent it flying out, the chain catching it on a jerk and bringing it back to her. This time when Dawn's fists hit, the bandage on her knuckles slipped and caught the bag wrong, catching the material to scrape one finger hard enough to draw blood. "Shit," the woman muttered as she lifted the hand to her face, studying the damage. After a moment, Dawn shrugged. She'd had worse. Lifting her gaze, she started to hit it again, ignoring the pain she felt as the knuckle began to bruise around the tiny scrape.