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 I've got n o t h i n g left to l i v e for, tag: john/sammi
thomas north bale
 Posted on: Feb 5 2016, 02:08 AM
thomas
❝ Both Eyes Open ❞
Pocahontas
25
6'4"
Heterosexual
Single
67

sam





When you get worried I'll be your soldier.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Close your eyes and listen to the sounds; rain pounding on the grass, thunder rolling in the sky. Too loud to hear yourself breathing, but you can still hear the rush of blood in your ears, and the pounding of your heart...

"Easy Thomas..." He muttered, his grip tightening on the gun in his hands. His eyes opened again but the land was a void of darkness. Sheets of rain surrounded him, falling sideways from thick black clouds. This was no place for someone to be standing, this was a world tossed into chaos by a twisted version of nature. The clouds too dark, the water too hard and icy cold against the skin. An unnatural storm that screamed in his ears, pushing and pulling him in every direction at once. He should have been frightened, properly terrified. This was the kind of storm that men didn't come out of the, the kind of darkness that hid monsters and masked men and who knows what else.

Only he'd been in a storm like this before. That night at sea, with the waves crashing over the sides of their ship, there had been just as much water. The cold he'd felt when he'd fallen beneath those waves was the same; a deep bone chill. The rumble of thunder and the flash of lightning? Those had been there too, drowning out the yells of his shipmates and making the world sound too loud and too quiet all at once. Like the sound had reached a point where you couldn't hear it anymore. As horrible as this storm was, he'd rather be here then back on that ship. He was on land, the storm didn't rock the earth on which he stood. There was no chance that he'd fall over the side, because there were none all the way out here. Yes, this was much better, the land flat and solid beneath his feet was his anchor. It's what made him calm in the middle of all that chaos.

What was he even doing out here?

He wasn't that far from camp, at least he didn't think he was, considering he couldn't see very far in all of this. As much as he didn't fear the storm, he didn't want to be standing in it either. Yet there was something out here. Something that had brought this storm with it, or sensed it coming and used it for cover. They'd seen it before the clouds rolled in and blocked out the sun, making it as dark as night and so much colder. A dragon, or some twisted beast that looked like one.

They should have retreated, fallen back into the camp, and locked up what they could. Faced it on ground they might actually stand a chance. Except the storm made it hard to hear and as much as he'd yelled to try and locate the other people who'd come out with him, all he got in return was that deafening silence. It made him nervous, anxious, his legs itching to bolt like a rabbit in a direction he hoped led to home, but instead he stayed glued to his spot. He had a tree to his back, and that small sense of comfort was enough to keep him rooted. They can't sneak up on you, his mind told him. His eyes closed again, tired from trying to see through water, as he lifted a hand to take his hat from his head. Sliding it into his pocket, he sucked in a breath and considered his options.

It was highly likely the other men had gone back already. In fact he was almost positive that if they hadn't gotten lost, they were probably already back at camp. So it shouldn't be too bad if he went back himself...right?

Crunch

Thomas felt his eyes shoot open and his whole body freeze. His hands tightened around the gun, not even sure if it would work in all this water, but taking comfort from it anyway. Whatever made that noise, was big. Big enough or close enough that he could hear it above the storm. Somewhere inside of him his heart jumped up to his chest and he realized he had to run. It didn't even matter which direction, he just had to get out of there and fast.

By the time he got his legs working there were more sounds. A beast, crashing through the trees, louder then the thunder that rained down from the sky. He splashed through deep puddles of mud and rain, his body dragged down by clothes soaked through with water. He could feel adrenaline rushing through him, warming his veins, but at the same time there was the exhaustion from the cold that had curled itself around his bones. He wasn't going to die out here. He refused.

He just couldn't see where he was going, he didn't know if he was running into the forest or heading for the camp. He couldn't even see his hands in front of his face, and if he wasn't floundering through a particularly deep puddle he was tripping over roots and rocks. Each time he fell, or had to stop and catch himself before he did, he heard the thing getting closer. Could almost imagine it breathing down his neck. Scalding hot in contrast to the ice water that surrounded him. It was like he was back in the ocean somehow, sinking deeper and deeper the more he struggled to keep his head above the water.

Only this time there was a shark circling under the surface.

----
He didn't know when it happened. It hadn't sounded like it had gotten any closer. Thought admittedly he probably should have realized that he couldn't trust his ears as a good judge of distance in all of this.

So when the strike came he was probably more surprised then hurt. He liked to think that his running and constant falling had maybe saved him for once, keeping it from making any real contact. Except that he''d felt claws rake his side, and the sheer force of the blow sent him off his feet.

He hit the ground hard enough to get the breath knocked out of him, and a sharp pain, plus a sound he didn't really like. His arm smacked against a rock or a tree...something hard and painful, effectively knocking his gun from his grip. He couldn't hear himself cry out but he knew that's what he did, right before the thing roared in his face, a deafening sound that shook the ground around him like an earthquake. The urge to curl up like a child in fear was almost overwhelming. Only the fact that he hurt everywhere kept him prone on the ground. Pinned down by a force of terror so heavy and solid it was like a bolder was sitting on his chest.

"F-Fuck-"

Yeah, not his usual vocabulary but, god damn that hurt. Closing his eyes for a second he tried to get his breath back, His brain too if he could manage it.

There was no time. Not to breathe, not to think, not even to register what hurt and what didn't. Whatever it was, that thing was coming at him again. If he hand't felt the water moving before it reached him, he probably would have lost his face. Instead he fell back, scrambling with his good arm to try and get some distance between them.

Maybe he was going to die out here.

The thing roared again and Thomas cringed at the sound, and tried to move faster, forcing his less cooperative arm to search and find the gun he'd dropped. His fingers barely scraped over something that felt like it might be what he was looking for, when he was screaming. A heavy weight pressed down on his back, claws digging into his skin and pushing him into the mud.

Frantic he ignored the pain, ignored the sound of tearing that came with it, and squirmed forward. Hand desperately trying to curl around the handle of his gun. He couldn't feel his fingers, couldn't feel anything but pain. Pain everywhere.

"Got yah`" He hissed.

The next part happened in quick flashes, like the gunshots. He struggled through pain, and a growing sense of lightheadedness to turn enough to aim in the creatures general direction. The first shot made contact out of sheer luck and the air was ripped by the sound of a pained scream. He felt the thing rear back, and without the weight pining him down he turned onto his back and aimed back into the darkness. Firing off seven more shots and hearing screeches of pain and anger accompanying at least half of them. He kept pulling the trigger even after it clicked to show him it was empty. Kept pulling the trigger until he felt the weight of whatever it was, fall across half of his body.

Dead weight.

He didn't know if he'd ever felt so relieved in his life. His hand fell back down and the empty gun fell from numb fingers. It didn't matter that he didn't think he had the strength to move it, or that his breathing felt strained. He was alive. In more pain than he'd ever thought possible, but alive.

He could sleep now, wait for the storm to end....

tag | ### | notes | template by sam
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john alden schmidt
 Posted on: Feb 6 2016, 06:55 PM
john smith
❝ I'VE BEEN IN WORSE SITUATIONS THAN THIS .... I JUST CAN'T THINK OF ANY RIGHT NOW. ❞
POCAHONTAS
30
6'1
HETEROSEXUAL
36

sammi



A good leader does not corral his charges, he trusts that they know what they're doing and are able to complete the task. He delegates and he strikes an example; he does not baby or hold hands. He helps, but does not overreach....

"And he does not doubt," John finished the mantra in his head trying to quell the bad feeling the crept upwards into his chest. He tried to pretend the doubt came from the blackened sky above and the torrential downpour, but he knew it wasn't so. He woke up that morning with the tugging feeling that something wasn't going to go all according to plan. That something bad was going to happen. Occasionally, the feelings never blossomed, but when they did?

Last time, he got shot.

The wound often stung and burned him, but healers assured him it was all in his head. This was one of those moments. With every crack of lightning and rumble of thunder, he could feel the scar throb in time with the deluge. A hand pressed against it and he took a deep breath. This wasn't doing anyone any good, least of all him. Of course, none of his anxieties were helped by the black skies and rain that made it impossible to see further than a few feet out from their camp. He knew his men were out there. He knew Thomas was out there. Not that he doubted the man's skill, he was quite confident in it, actually... it was just... He did feel more at ease when these feelings hit if his friends were nearby. And, by now? Thomas was more a brother than a friend. Funny....... John Smith had never been the familial type.

Heaving a ragged sigh, he pushed his hand through messy hair and tried to relax. His mind went back to tall pine trees, the golden hue of plants and the brilliant colors he never knew the wind could hold. It wasn't an easy transition, to ignore the rain and imagine the past, but sometimes it worked. Sometimes better than others. For a while, he dozed, content in his dream. It was when he was informed that the rest of the party had returned and Thomas wasn't with them that the feeling returned. But, John did not immediately rush out into the unknown. (Thomas would grow to resent him if he ran after him every single time he grew a little worried.) So, he waited. He waited and let his trust and faith guide his actions. Time to set up for the night rounds.

There were people who said they knew the moment something happened to a loved one. John always scoffed at it. Superstition. Lately, he had grown to trust those feelings in others and in himself. Ever since Hannah... No. Focus. It was when he heard the roar in the distance that he knew. He knew why Thomas wasn't here. He knew what was happening and the Captain was on his feet as quick as lightning. (Quicker, some said later.)

He was so used to drills that he had his boots on, guns and knife donned before the first person asked him a question. What do we do? Stay here, he ordered, but he didn't hear his voice. What about Thomas? they asked, eager for a fight. Stay here, he repeated. Stay here in case I don't return. The camp must be defended.

That conversation never stuck with him, and he was out of the fire's glow before he knew it.

It took all his skills as a soldier to keep adrenaline from making him shoot forward blindly. That would get everyone killed. Loading his gun as he went, he moved slowly, always listening through the white noise of the rain. Eventually, he could tune it out and hear movements around him. Small animals, calls from the camp, but none of that was what he wanted to hear. His only clues to where his friend was would be heard if he was slow and quiet. Not easy to do in this slosh, but it was required.

Another roar and John increased his pace, sure of where it was coming from. "Always listen to your gut, Smith," he growled to himself. "Better everyone alive and well, than to take unneeded risks and end up dead." Funny. There were a few who would say the same about him, huh? Not the point. Focus. Focus. Focus.

Gunshot.

At that sound, John ignored his training and broke into a run, weaving between trees and jumping over fallen logs and upturn roots. More than once he skidded and slid, but managed to keep his feet. A pained roar. More gunshots. He had to go faster, and yet, he slowed down. He had to slow down. Take it slower, no matter how worried he was about Thomas and whatever this beast was. Then it all stopped and John pushed forward. He didn't have to go too much farther before he saw a grisly sight in front of him. Thomas.

He dropped his gun immediately and slid to his knees beside Thomas, a hand immediately going to the other man's neck to check for a pulse. Good. Still alive.

"Thomas. Thomas! You've gotta wake up," he said, trying to hide the panic in his voice. His hand raised to press against Thomas's cheek before sternly hitting it a few times. "Thomas. This is an order. Wake. Up." He had to make sure Thomas was conscious before he could move the beast. Not sure that he could, but he sure could try. But, he couldn't do all of this without knowing if his friend was alive.

He better be alive.

@sam & thomas, #966, halp i'm dying oops
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thomas north bale
 Posted on: Jul 11 2016, 12:28 PM
thomas
❝ Both Eyes Open ❞
Pocahontas
25
6'4"
Heterosexual
Single
67

sam





When you get worried I'll be your soldier.
Thomas never put much stock in the idea that your life flashed before your eyes. Having almost died once already, and countless times afterwards, he couldn't recall a single time where memories flashed in rapid succession through his mind. All he could remember was this intense sense of reality. Being so in tune to the moment that time felt like it had frozen. The waves crashing over him had come in a sort of slow motion once he'd realized he was going to die. Like he was trying to escape himself somehow.

This time he saw those flashes of his life. Once his eyes closed they filled the back of his lids like movies from the other world. Glimpses of his childhood, his family, the ship, the new world, the resistance, and finally these last moments.

Jaws snapping in front of his face.

The last made latent fear surge to the surface in his chest. His body tensing like a shock of electricity had raked up his spine. For a moment the creature was still alive, still hovering over him with hunger shinning in its black eyes. In his mind it reared up off his chest, merely stunned and bared it's teeth at his throat. And if that wasn't bad enough he could feel water, boiling hot and sloshing over his body like the waves of some river in Hell was trying to pull him under.

Thomas!

-wake up-

A voice like the distant crack of thunder, the sting of lightning against his face. He could almost feel the water in his lungs again, and he gasped hungrily for it..only to struggle. His chest too weighted to gasp for air like his brain was screaming for him to do.

With a jolt he was awake, conscious, and the world came into terrifying focus all at once. Rain pouring down in sheets, John's face, a weight sprawled across his body, and- God the pain.

His back felt like it was on fire, his arm hurt so much that he had to strangle back a scream. "J-john-" he gasped, and there was something like terror in his face. He felt like he couldn't breathe, and the rain, was he drowning again? He couldn't remember, couldn't make his mind put two and two together. It was too busy screaming. The arm that wasn't adding to the screams of pain his body was making, grasped for John's sleeve, his arm. Whatever was in reach that offered some sort of an anchor. He wasn't at sea, wasn't in a boat, but it still felt like the ground was pitching left and right beneath him.

tag | ### | notes | template by sam
^
john alden schmidt
 Posted on: Nov 3 2017, 09:05 PM
john smith
❝ I'VE BEEN IN WORSE SITUATIONS THAN THIS .... I JUST CAN'T THINK OF ANY RIGHT NOW. ❞
POCAHONTAS
30
6'1
HETEROSEXUAL
36

sammi



Panic curled around his stomach and chest like a slithering serpant, trying to coax him into giving in. The rain fell around him, and created an atmosphere that was dark and dank. It was just like the weather to help his anxiety along the way. Electric blue eyes kept flittering back to where he knew the best had receded into the darkness. Darkness. The serpent hissed in his ear, whispering words of cowardice to an unrelenting mind. He never left a man behind. He never would, and he wasn't going to start now. Especially not now.

Especially not Thomas.

He gritted his teeth together and tried to concentrate on the figure of his best friend next to him. Thomas was pale and he could tell there was something wrong with his arm, and it made his stomach churn. Focus. Just focus. But then he was greeted by a familiar pair of eyes and the blond fought back the sigh of relief. They weren't out of the woods yet. Just because Thomas was awake didn't mean he was okay. It didn't mean he was going to make it. (It didn't mean he was still alive.)

"Hey. Good, you can recognize my face even in the storm," he tried for some humor, but it came out dry and flat. Worry laced through his eyes before he glanced to the weak hand that curled into the sleeve of his shirt. What did he do? They couldn't stay here. Even if he didn't manage to kill the beast, it could still be lurking around, or have friends. Lots of friends. And, while he didn't want to cause the other man any discomfort...

He was going to have to. Steeling his resolve, he shifted his weight in the slippery mud and put a hand against Thomas's shoulder, a steadying sort of hand. "We have to get you out of here, soldier, and it's not going to feel good. Think you can hang on? We're a hundred yards from the outpost." He wasn't asking Thomas to move, to walk, or crawl ---- just to hang onto what little shred of conscience he had until he could get him back to the camp. To anyone who happened to be around.

He took a deep breath and let his eyes close for a moment, focusing on the rainfall around them and the crackling of thunder. He couldn't carry Thomas. While he was a strong individual, he wasn't that strong. Not in this storm. Not with the ground threatening to slip out from under his feet. Slip.... Perhaps he could...

"Thomas, I'm going to leave for just a minute, okay? I need to get something. I am not leaving you. Just a moment." He didn't wait for a response. Not out of malice, but because he knew his friend didn't have the time for him to be wishy washy right now. He had to act. And act was what he did best. Pushing himself up to his feet, he moved as quickly as he could in the mire before finding what he needed: three very sturdy branches. Walking back, he begain work on a sling of sorts.

Need something to tie to the branches: his shirt would do fine. Need something to keep the contraption together: good thing he always had rope in his pack. It wasn't going to be comfortable, and it wasn't going to be painless for either party, but Thomas most of all. Broken arm definitely had to be secured, and there was no telling what other injuries there were. He'd do his best. He wasn't a medic, but ... he'd do his best.

Kneeling down with a smaller, but no less study, stick in his hand and a bit of spare rope. Deep breath. This was probably going to be the worst part. (If they both lived to tell the tale, he would let Thomas berate him. No cross words given.) "I need to secure your arm. It's going to hurt." Was he even listening to him at this point? Did it matter? "I'm going to be as gentle as I can, but I can't make promises." The idea of doing this left his stomach sick and his head light, but he fought through it. He had to do this. No one else was going to. No one else was here.

With a resolve that was teetering on the cliff above the darkness of his panic, John moved forward trying to be as gentle as he could while still being firm. The aim was not to move the broken appendage more than was necessary. Which was hard when it was pouring rain and mud covered everything, but he managed it. Slowly, and wincing every time he heard bones move, he managed to splint the arm and tie it so that it was against Thomas's chest and not in danger of flopping around.

It was here he paused and glanced back down at his friend's face. "You still hanging in there?"

thomas north bale , BAM. only a year and a half later nbd
^
thomas north bale
 Posted on: Dec 27 2017, 10:14 PM
thomas
❝ Both Eyes Open ❞
Pocahontas
25
6'4"
Heterosexual
Single
67

sam





When you get worried I'll be your soldier.
Any other moment, any other given day, and he might have laughed. Right then he was hovering in a space that wasn't quite here nor there. Not conscious, but not unconscious. Like his body and his mind couldn't quite decide what version of reality they preferred. The one where rain and mud and pain radiated through every ounce of his body, or the place where water threatened to drag him into the deep. Normally the mere thought of any large body of water was enough to turn his stomach and make him hesitate. How far gone was he that he was looking at that black nothingness with something like relief? Like perhaps drowning was better than this- whatever this was.

For what it was worth he was still holding on. Weak fingers grabbing onto fabric of John's sleeve. A fist with barely enough strength in it to hold on.

In is mind his fingers turned into a vice the moment John said he was leaving. It didn't matter if it was for a moment or a few seconds, the assurances given fell on deaf ears. ( After all wasn't he drowning? Isn't this hold the only thing keeping him above water? ) In reality his grip falls away without much fight. He can feel himself sinking as unrealistic as the back of his mind tells him that sensation is, he can't help but imagine the water- the darkness closing in around him. Fear makes his heart start pounding faster, his breathing grow more rapid. "John?!" He can't help the strangled fear that wraps itself around his words, or the frantic flick of his eyes from one direction to another. Trying to make out shapes in the darkness and rain. Anything that didn't look like waves or the mast of a ship.

He's two seconds from panic when he feels John at his side again. Or perhaps he's already panicking. What does he know?

After all he thinks he's still drowning.

The pain, when it comes again, is excruciating...but it's a godsend in a way. He's never felt anything like it, he almost passes out with the sheer monumental overwhelming strength of it. Each slight move is a fresh explosion, a fresh injury as sharp and traumatic as the first. Yet it drags him finally over the fence he's been balanced on. That open air void where he's half in water and half on land. Now, at last he's completely on land. He's aware, for what it's worth, of the rain and the mud.

He screams, but there's no feeling like the ocean is rushing into his lungs.

His good hand grabs at John and this time there's strength behind it, a grip that turns his knuckles white. Despite himself a stream of curses slips past his lips, before he's focusing on John more than he has been able to since he first heard his voice.

"F-for a sec-second I almost thought yo-you weren't here. Co-could have picked a better way to prove me wrong, you bastard." He has to suck in a breath and while he'd lifted a little off the ground in that moment he collapsed back onto it as soon as he let go of John's arm again. His eyes closing the moment his head hit mud.

"I-I'm not- I'm not in the water- I'm not in the water-" It wasn't so much a question as it was a chant, muttered in a childlike voice to himself. Hand turning into a fist in the soil; grasping at the mud.

john alden schmidt | ### | this feels all over the place i'm sorry u-u | template by sam

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