Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20190205035159/@comment-26571677-20191226093114

The buzz in her pocket alerted her to the finale.

She pulled the tracker out; staring at the blinking red light in her hand in disbelief. Her pupils dilated, her eyes widened, and her breathing paused.

There was stillness for a few seconds. The figure remained unmoving in the darkness; not even her chest moving with the palpitations of sucked in breath.

And then, the underbrush was kicked up; dirt and sand flying into the air as she broke off at a sprint. Her aura flashed as she scrambled through the unfamiliar terrain. Her previously careful, scouted steps were forgotten and were replaced by the mad scramble of a person who was at risk of losing everything.

And all throughout, one thought went through her head; one singular, repeating phrase like a broken record stuck on a singular second; a strangle on the passage of time.

“Don’t let me be late.”

She fell, tripping on a root that she could not see and falling on her hands. She ignored it. Continued to bolt forward; half stumbling from the pull of the vegetation and half stomping as she lifted her feet to compensate.

“Don’t let me be late. Don’t let me be late. Don’t let me be late.”

In the distance, there was a gunshot, and the forest around her ruffled with screeches and birdcalls as wildlife stirred and flew; fleeing in cacophony.

Yet her whispered ‘no’ was the loudest thing in the forest; pounding its way into her skull and echoing as she ran, faster than she ever thought possible.

The thorns pulling at her jacket lessened with every step that she took, and soon the forest’s grasp upon her disappeared and she burst into the clearing; seeing the dead town below.

What awaited her made her blood run cold. As there Dust lay, on his back with an ever increasing pool of blood beneath him; his enemies sidling up to him, traitors and lowlifes to the end.

Rage boiled up first, and then she saw him move. It was just a twitch; a twitch that anybody except her would have missed.

The fury then eked away, fading into fear.

They would kill him.

She bounded down the hill, hands scrambling as she pulled out her pistol and racked the slide. The gates were locked, and so she used the momentum of her downwards sprint to jump up, up towards the sky, and up over the long-neglected wall, coming to a stop in a roll, raising her pistol even as Dust began his final gambit.

As Trago bent to pick up Jett, Dust moved at a speed that would be wholly unexpected of someone who had previously been motionless and bleeding. His left hand sighted Trago and his right hand simply pointed up; straight at the man who had shot him down.

Two blasts, she heard, and then one more.

There were two splatters of blood. One came from Dust’s shot, cleanly breaking through Diaboli’s aura, and cutting into his shoulder.

But the other splash of red came from her brother. There was a spike of the devil’s retribution as Diaboli’s piece flashed one final time, cutting Dust down like a blade of grass.

And then he fell, for the last time; the thud under the eerie night’s sky strangely anticlimactic. Such a small sound, for a man who’d given everything he’d had.

It was back to silence. Or, a few seconds of it at least; the return to status quo for a village that had breathed its last breaths years before.

She heard the question.

“Is he dead?”

And she saw Diaboli raise his piece to confirm it.

And he was unawares that she was raising hers, silent grief flooding into her mind as she let loose a scream. Deep and primal was the sound; true anguish, as if tuned into the dictionary of the universe, condensed into a long and drawn out yell.

Her trigger finger pulled until she heard clicks; and her mind did not care that Trago had blocked all her shots; shots that should have embedded themselves straight into Diaboli’s head. She merely kept on firing, swapping out one empty mag for another as she advanced, and they retreated, with the bounty of Jett slung over the masters’ shoulder. They ran quickly; slinking away like snakes that had eaten their fill.

And she was left alone, regaining her senses as she heard a wavering ‘Hey’ beneath her.

Her pistol dropped, and she dropped to his side, mouth unable to form words as she instead forced herself into action. She gripped folds of Dust’s coat and pressed them to his wound, trying to stem the tide of blood that seemed to flow on, no matter how she tried to stop it.

“You’re going to be okay! It’s fine! I’ve already called an ambulanceOhGodDustyou’reanidiot!Whywouldyou-“

“Never thought dying would feel so cold.”

She stopped, shocked into silence at the spoken truth; hands around his wounds going slack. But fear overtook reality as she redoubled her efforts to cover his wounds. The blood had begun to pool, seeping into his clothes and hair.

“You’re not going to die! Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you dare. Leave me here!”

He laughed. A weak, gurgling chuckle.

“How can you laugh at a time like this!?”

“Cos if I don’t, they win.”

He said those words with a finality that surprised her; his eyes sharp, his face losing its telltale traces of mirth.

“I gotta be strong, gotta protect those who can’t protect themselves…what’ll they think if they see me crying?”

And left without an answer, Hazel could only focus on trying to stop the tide of blood, like leaks in a jar. Her focus was dogged; singular. It was the simple task of applying useless pressure that stopped her from breaking.

“Hey…”

She didn’t hear. Or if she did, didn’t respond. Simply continued her pressure on his wounds, covering as much as she could, even as her hands went crimson.

“Hazel…”

She didn’t---couldn’t look at him.

“Hazel. Look at me.”

His hand grabbed hers, and still, she refused to turn her head, teeth clenched, throat tight, and eyes shut tight.

And his other hand turned her chin. Forced her to see him.

He was crying, but with a smile on his face. And the dam that was Hazel’s lament broke upon, as tear upon tear rolled down her anguished face, choked sobs rattling her chest even as she tried to swallow them.

He was too pale, a line of blood flowed done from the corner of his mouth, and she felt the shake of his hands.

“D-don’t say anything. Save your strength…” She managed to choke out; every word a pain.

“You and I both know I don’t got any left.”

She shook her head, heaving in a rattling breath as she gripped his hand in both of hers.

“No! No you’ll be okay! You’ll be okay…you…you have to be…please…”

He stroked her cheek, looking on her with a wistful smile in his misting eyes.

“Don’t-don’t be sad, Hazel…I got to choose how I died, and I got to choose how I lived…y’all should be so lucky.”

“You’re not going to die!”

He ignored her.

“…When I’m gone…I want you to keep on goin’. Find something-find something worth fighting for. Might seem hard, impossible even…but it’s there. You just gotta…be willing to try hard enough.”

His hands dropped, and for a moment, she feared him gone already. But he raised his revolvers and pressed them to her hands, arms falling limp as she held onto them; clutching them to her chest. Fearful, as the warmth faded like dying embers.

“Take ‘em…they won’t feel right just yet, but…you’ll grow into ‘em. Grow into what they mean. Just…remember. When you got a man at your mercy…did they do wrong? Or did they wrong you?”

His hand went limp, and his voice faded into whisper.

“World o’ difference…world of it.”

She tried to speak, but all she could manage was the choke of her voice, half scream and half wail as she buried her head in his chest, feeling his heartbeat fade with each passing second.

There was silence, for awhile. Interspersed only by the occasional rattle of Hazel’s intake breath.

“Hey…Hey Hazel? Sing me...Sing me that song again, the one that went…”

He made some off tune hums with his voice, and he chuckled at their absurdity. In spite of her tears, Hazel laughed too, if only for a moment, as his voice faded again.

She would have protested, if not for his eyes…gone was their gleam as they stared up into the reflection of a thousand stars he would not see again.

So she submitted, and began to hum.

“I walk. Through the valley of the shadow of death.”

He sighed, closing his eyes.

“And I fear no evil, because I’m blind…to it all.”

“You got a beautiful voice, Hazel.”

Her voice caught, but she powered on. For him.

“And my mind, and my gun they comfort me…”

''“Hey…Hazel? I love you.”''

“Because I know I’ll kill my enemies, when they come…”

And by the time she finished, he was still. And he was quiet, and his heartbeat had faded.

She bent down her head, pushing it into his chest, voice barely a whisper.

“Dust…please…please don’t go. I need you…please don’t leave me alone”

But he was already gone.

And on the shores and in the woods, the Grimm howled in ecstasy.