tell them you have fire in your bone marrow,

[kecharitomene]

WHO: Galatea Lourdes, Simon Ashlock, Pietro Maximoff & Alex Karahalios.
WHAT: An attempt is made to evacuate the Chantry at Mont-de-Marc, with mixed results.
WHEN: This month.
WHERE: Mont-de-Marc, Orlais.
NOTES: Sign up & info link.

( as disheartening as it is to watch the retreating backs of those who own they can't make the journey, it's nothing compared to the sight of those who went ahead—a sight that in retrospect galatea curses herself for not having been prepared for, for not having had the forethought to prepare anyone else. what did they expect, any of them? precious few of them have survived and it's visibly a matter of time, surrounded by the corpses of their families and the darkspawn that tore them apart—there are limbs in the trees that do not belong to branches—

galatea sees the movement in the corner of her eye before she can process exactly what's happening, hears the animal cry of grief from a throat too close to her for comfort (nothing about this is going to be comforting), and in a split second makes a decision and looses her weapons,

not to go to anyone's aid, pitilessly pragmatic even as it grieves her, but planting herself between the youngest of the group and the threat that is absolutely going to circle to them if this gets out of hand. she doesn't waste breath on no or don't or that's going to get you fucking killed, although it is, but begins the business of herding the children out of first sight.

maybe some part of this will be salvageable if they're fast. )

Comments

[periastron]

( This is beyond her grasp of fucked up. She's read history books, seen documentaries, heard stories from her Yiayia and Baba of horrors, and seen the looks they shared when she was too young to know the details they left out. Sometimes as a vet you see shitty things, too, stuff that sticks in your head. And then, alongside all that, there's knowing that death is just a part of life. Not wrong or unnatural, just... is.

This, what she's seeing, is beyond anything she's seen before. Her stomach surges, and she almost dry heaves, has her hand over her mouth out of horror and the dread that she might cry out. Her mind hasn't even had a chance process that they might be in danger. She's just caught on the horror.

Alex turns, looks to the others in the group, and only registers the look on some of the faces a moment too late, when someone tries to shove her aside to start running towards the horrors. )

No, stop, ( she hisses, trying to catch his wrist, and he shoves away from her. One of the few strong that had stayed to help the weak and the elderly. )

aftermath - for galatea

[periastron]

( Alex is retching up whatever remained in her stomach from earlier that day. Her hand is braced against the rough bark, and she can feel the bite of it into her skin. It'd be a relief and an anchor on another day, but today she needs more than her hand hurting to ground her. This is fucked. This is so unbelievably fucked, and she spits before wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. Fuck. Fuck.

Behind her there's a loud huff of breath, and she feels the hot breath followed by the poke of a cold nose against the line of exposed flesh where her shirt rode up her back as she doubled over. Despite the bullshit, she smiles very slightly. ) Hey, mate. We would've been fucked without you.

( Well, they were anyway, and the others might have been fine, so she revises: ) I woulda been.

( The great bear, horrifyingly massive, with strange tuffs of fur and leathery skin, huffs again and nudges the back of her arm. )

[kecharitomene]

( as much as that's probably true, galatea is a city creature born and bred and her healthy wariness of great bears extends far enough that she has to raise her voice for it to carry to alex—that's sweet, and all, but she isn't going anywhere near that fucking thing. )

Water?

( —miming throwing it to her. she's got good aim, it's fine. for your puke-mouth, alex. )

[periastron]

( Her hand dips into the pack of rations she has at her side, fishing out a bit of dried out, frankly unappetising jerky, and she holds it out to the big beast. It's plucked from her hand with a surprising amount of care, given the size of the snout and teeth, but care cannot spare her slobber.

At the sound of the voice, now familiar, Alex looks up. Her smile is not much of a smile, honestly, just a very tired quirk at the corner of her mouth. )

Please. Thanks.

( In fact, she leans against the bear for a moment, and takes a step away, to make the tossing easier. The lumbering thing doesn't follow - seems wary of going near other people, to an extent, and is content with gnawing on the jerky offering for the time being. )