Post by Wayland on Mar 13, 2022 14:45:37 GMT -8
There’s a moment when Wayland blinks at the Fall Wizened singer, trying to place her name. For some reason it seems important, despite the gunshot and the bedlam, to remember the name of the person trying to help her. It’s impolite to forget someone’s name, right? Isn’t that what Ma would say?
Then there’s a different Wizened flagging her down, and this one Wayland can name. Lotus. Asking her. Is she hurt? Wayland looks down at herself, puts her hand on her stomach. (For some reason a gutshot frightens her most. And that’s where people always get shot without realizing it, right? That’s how it works in the movies, at least.)
“I’m- I’m okay,” she answers, when she feels no blood, no pain, no gaping rents in her flesh. She uncoils from her crouch, glancing for a moment towards the Autumn singer. That way lies escape. Safety. Comfort.
But then Lotus is asking for her help. Well, not so much asking as assuming she’d want to, involving her by default. Out of respect, out of expectation; warrior to warrior. They’re the ones that step up, that charge themselves with the safety of others. For a moment, Wayland wants to blurt ’I’m drunk!’ It would be a good excuse to go towards the singer, towards the safety she represents.
But if Wayland’s life has taught her anything it’s that she doesn’t deserve safety. Especially not at the expense of others.
“Yeah,” she replies to Lotus with a nod, trying hard not to look back towards the Autumn, and fighting to clear her head as she watches people file past, looking for anyone left behind, or anything that might be amiss.
Then there’s a different Wizened flagging her down, and this one Wayland can name. Lotus. Asking her. Is she hurt? Wayland looks down at herself, puts her hand on her stomach. (For some reason a gutshot frightens her most. And that’s where people always get shot without realizing it, right? That’s how it works in the movies, at least.)
“I’m- I’m okay,” she answers, when she feels no blood, no pain, no gaping rents in her flesh. She uncoils from her crouch, glancing for a moment towards the Autumn singer. That way lies escape. Safety. Comfort.
But then Lotus is asking for her help. Well, not so much asking as assuming she’d want to, involving her by default. Out of respect, out of expectation; warrior to warrior. They’re the ones that step up, that charge themselves with the safety of others. For a moment, Wayland wants to blurt ’I’m drunk!’ It would be a good excuse to go towards the singer, towards the safety she represents.
But if Wayland’s life has taught her anything it’s that she doesn’t deserve safety. Especially not at the expense of others.
“Yeah,” she replies to Lotus with a nod, trying hard not to look back towards the Autumn, and fighting to clear her head as she watches people file past, looking for anyone left behind, or anything that might be amiss.
Wayland joins Lotus Eater’s efforts.
