God, everything hurt.
>> Ivy Langley continued from a thug changes and love changes and best friends become strangers
There was a path to the village that lead, conveniently, directly to the village. Less convenient was that the path was muddy, provided no protection at all from the rain, and, perhaps most importantly, was essentially a death trap, completely out of the way of any possible cover should that specter from the woods reappear and start taking potshots at them. Between Ace's burden of bags and her own injuries staying off the path meant both sacrificing speed and suffering more pain than was perhaps necessary for her troubles, but it seemed worthwhile when the alternate stake was possible, sudden, inescapable death.
She carried pain like a heavy backpack, uncomfortable, irritating, increasingly familiar. Draining her strength a little at a time, but subtly, slowly, her steps becoming shakier over time. She noticed, and she kept walking, asking for a break only when her strength threatened to leave her entirely. They sat on their bags under trees, drank some water. Rested.
Spoke, a bit.
Not about anything important. She knew what he would say if she bothered to ask about the game, and she carried enough weight without trying to bear his stupid, persistent hope alongside everything else. She had another question in mind, but she wasn't sure she wanted to hear its answer. So they'd discuss silly things, instead. What food they wished they had on them at the moment. Betting on when the rain would stop. Finding pictures in tree bark, drawing lines in the mud with sticks. Silly, childish games.
They spoke about their summer plans. That one she started, and that one was a mistake, memories of booking plane tickets to Tokyo, Myles's dream vacation, her graduation present before distance could separate them, she had never had the chance to tell him and when she looked down her hands were shaking again. They were still shaking when they'd stood up again, when she slipped her hand back into his.
The rain was endless, sometimes relentless and sometimes softening into a mist but never stopping altogether. Staying within the treeline protected them from the worst of it, but being permanently damp wasn't a significant improvement over being permanently soaked. By the time the village was in their sights Ivy was so desperate to be under a roof for a little while that she was struck by the temptation to forget her paranoia and follow the path directly there, but no. Cautious minds prevailed. She spotted a more out of the way building on the map, a larger one to the south labeled as the infirmary. They would take the long way around, around the treeline and through to the back of the building. Ace seemed... mildly exasperated, she thought, but he didn't try to talk her out of it, either.
"Ace?"
Ivy wasn't sure why she spoke, except that the endless drone of the downpour felt like it needed some variation.
and i know no one will save me
i'm just asking for a— [early evening, day 3, private]
and i know no one will save me
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
“That’s what they call me, yeah.”
That was a little blunt of a response, no?
He knew that but his whole mind was racing and spent little time resting on rationale, reason or courtesy. He was wet, he was hungry and he was scared. It was all mind over matter wasn’t it? He knew this--but he wasn’t the Dali Llama. He couldn’t really expect Ivy to carry her own bags considering her condition. He had been the one to defer to her when it came to leading the way--so he couldn’t be mad at her for being a little bossy. He was grateful for the direction she provided, it gave him less things to think about.
She could handle the big things, he could be focused on being petty and grumbling and missing his hat. He could be focused on the small because she was there taking his attention and giving him tasks. He didn’t resent Ivy for relying on him, quite the opposite--trying to please and protect Ivy was at least a goal he felt he had some sorta control over. Things he could control were few and far between even in Chattanooga. Out here they were worth more than gold.
He did resent the rain hitting his head a bit, but then again it wouldn’t have been gentlemanly to ask for his hat back. He choked away his exasperation and pettiness. He sensed she sensed it anyway and that wasn't fair to her. He tried to focus on the positive and skim the silver lining so he could save that shininess for later. It was a useless effort. He knew Ivy thought his optimism was stupid without saying it and he couldn't run from that thought in the corner of his heart on the edge of his mind. He wasn’t resentful about the hat or taking the long way everywhere or holding her bags, not really.
He was resentful because he was starting to believe he was stupid as well.
What a child he was--a boy trapped in the body of a man.
He gripped her hand and smiled, forcing all those thoughts down and trying his best to be the bigger person. Attitude determined latitude. That was one of the things he could control out here too and blah blah blah worth more than gold.
“You good?”
He was talking to himself as much as he was to her.
That was a little blunt of a response, no?
He knew that but his whole mind was racing and spent little time resting on rationale, reason or courtesy. He was wet, he was hungry and he was scared. It was all mind over matter wasn’t it? He knew this--but he wasn’t the Dali Llama. He couldn’t really expect Ivy to carry her own bags considering her condition. He had been the one to defer to her when it came to leading the way--so he couldn’t be mad at her for being a little bossy. He was grateful for the direction she provided, it gave him less things to think about.
She could handle the big things, he could be focused on being petty and grumbling and missing his hat. He could be focused on the small because she was there taking his attention and giving him tasks. He didn’t resent Ivy for relying on him, quite the opposite--trying to please and protect Ivy was at least a goal he felt he had some sorta control over. Things he could control were few and far between even in Chattanooga. Out here they were worth more than gold.
He did resent the rain hitting his head a bit, but then again it wouldn’t have been gentlemanly to ask for his hat back. He choked away his exasperation and pettiness. He sensed she sensed it anyway and that wasn't fair to her. He tried to focus on the positive and skim the silver lining so he could save that shininess for later. It was a useless effort. He knew Ivy thought his optimism was stupid without saying it and he couldn't run from that thought in the corner of his heart on the edge of his mind. He wasn’t resentful about the hat or taking the long way everywhere or holding her bags, not really.
He was resentful because he was starting to believe he was stupid as well.
What a child he was--a boy trapped in the body of a man.
[[ Ace Beats Continued From: a thug changes and love changes and best friends become strangers ]]
He gripped her hand and smiled, forcing all those thoughts down and trying his best to be the bigger person. Attitude determined latitude. That was one of the things he could control out here too and blah blah blah worth more than gold.
“You good?”
He was talking to himself as much as he was to her.
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Ivy found herself laughing a little, again. He was surprisingly good at drawing that out of her, considering the circumstances, though this time she wasn't sure how much was genuine and how much was just nerves. She could make fun of him, maybe, "you good" was such a meaningless question as to constitute a waste of air, but she supposed she hadn't given him any indication as to why she'd gotten his attention in the first place. She could hardly blame him for the conversational placeholder.
"Yeah," she said. That was meaningless, too.
She glanced at Ace. He was smiling, and she smiled back, but she felt tension pulling at her lips and her eyes quickly slid away from his. 'Something was wrong' felt like a trite turn of phrase when everything was wrong, but he had something on his mind, clearly, something that sucked the smile from his eyes. And that was okay, wasn't it? Not like he had any good reason to smile. Not like he was doing it for any reason other than to make her feel better.
Not like she needed to know everything that was on his mind, really. Not like she wanted to know.
"You seem distracted," she offered, anyway, because she could never lie to herself for very long.
"Yeah," she said. That was meaningless, too.
She glanced at Ace. He was smiling, and she smiled back, but she felt tension pulling at her lips and her eyes quickly slid away from his. 'Something was wrong' felt like a trite turn of phrase when everything was wrong, but he had something on his mind, clearly, something that sucked the smile from his eyes. And that was okay, wasn't it? Not like he had any good reason to smile. Not like he was doing it for any reason other than to make her feel better.
Not like she needed to know everything that was on his mind, really. Not like she wanted to know.
"You seem distracted," she offered, anyway, because she could never lie to herself for very long.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
He seemed distracted?
“Yeah,” he admitted with little reluctance, “I s’pose I am a little distracted.”
He nodded, he always felt like that’s what he had over his fellow classmates and athletes--he was self aware. He saw the forest for the trees, he wasn’t a smart student but he wasn’t a stupid person.
“But maybe it’s better to be distracted in a situation like this, right? This whole place is insane, think about it too much and you start to become crazy yourself.”
He closed his eyes…
“I want to be distracted, y’know? This shit sucks.”
It did didn’t it? 3 days going on 4 out here and he knew that shit would get worse before it got better. He had had it easy, he hadn’t even seen a dead body. He hadn’t fought anything or anybody. The game was just an idea. He could still afford to be distracted. He needed to be…
“Can I ask a random question without seemin’ like a jerk? Like, since we prolly are gonna die anyway…”
“Yeah,” he admitted with little reluctance, “I s’pose I am a little distracted.”
He nodded, he always felt like that’s what he had over his fellow classmates and athletes--he was self aware. He saw the forest for the trees, he wasn’t a smart student but he wasn’t a stupid person.
“But maybe it’s better to be distracted in a situation like this, right? This whole place is insane, think about it too much and you start to become crazy yourself.”
He closed his eyes…
“I want to be distracted, y’know? This shit sucks.”
It did didn’t it? 3 days going on 4 out here and he knew that shit would get worse before it got better. He had had it easy, he hadn’t even seen a dead body. He hadn’t fought anything or anybody. The game was just an idea. He could still afford to be distracted. He needed to be…
“Can I ask a random question without seemin’ like a jerk? Like, since we prolly are gonna die anyway…”
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Of course he wanted to be distracted. Of course she did, too, that's why they'd had those pointless conversations, that's why they'd drawn pictures in the mud, that's why her hand was locked in his and had stayed that way near-constantly for hours. Of course all she'd really meant was what are you thinking about while being too fearful to ask directly, but still, the words she'd actually spoken felt foolish reflected back at her.
This was all so familiar in a way she hated. She resented Ace for that, and then resented herself for pretending she had the right to.
Even in mindless small talk her life laid on a razor's edge and she knew that. She knew how little leeway she had. If she took Ace for granted, if she spoke too loudly or too quickly or too much, if she allowed herself to resent him too much, if she allowed herself anger or ugly tears, he could be gone in a moment. She had no way of knowing if that unaccountable feeling, the one born from that first night, the one that kept her so close to him, was requited. And where would she be, if he vanished? She wasn't sure she could even carry her bags the few hundred feet that now separated them from the infirmary. She'd sit in place and wait to die.
Can I ask a random question? It was funny how he thought she had the right to say no.
"Depends," she said in a tone of voice that might have passed as teasing if she'd had more energy. "But go ahead."
This was all so familiar in a way she hated. She resented Ace for that, and then resented herself for pretending she had the right to.
Even in mindless small talk her life laid on a razor's edge and she knew that. She knew how little leeway she had. If she took Ace for granted, if she spoke too loudly or too quickly or too much, if she allowed herself to resent him too much, if she allowed herself anger or ugly tears, he could be gone in a moment. She had no way of knowing if that unaccountable feeling, the one born from that first night, the one that kept her so close to him, was requited. And where would she be, if he vanished? She wasn't sure she could even carry her bags the few hundred feet that now separated them from the infirmary. She'd sit in place and wait to die.
Can I ask a random question? It was funny how he thought she had the right to say no.
"Depends," she said in a tone of voice that might have passed as teasing if she'd had more energy. "But go ahead."
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
“So, uh, it like, may seem silly and it like, y’know, it really doesn’t matter all things considerin’, it’s just that, well, ya see, on the trip, y’know, like, hmmm…”
Welp, you wanted to be distracted didn’t you?
“I was roomin’ with Wyatt and Connor and shit was kinda weird and like, people, they talk,” he drifted, why was he explaining how gossip worked to Ivy of all people, “I was just curious y’know? George Hunter is a pretty small place, like there are a lotta rumors and stuff?”
Of course she understood how that worked, she often made it that way.
He didn’t know how to be politically correct here so he wasn’t. Blame the subject matter.
“Were you really cheatin’ on Bret with Wyatt? Like for real?”
Welp, you wanted to be distracted didn’t you?
“I was roomin’ with Wyatt and Connor and shit was kinda weird and like, people, they talk,” he drifted, why was he explaining how gossip worked to Ivy of all people, “I was just curious y’know? George Hunter is a pretty small place, like there are a lotta rumors and stuff?”
Of course she understood how that worked, she often made it that way.
He didn’t know how to be politically correct here so he wasn’t. Blame the subject matter.
“Were you really cheatin’ on Bret with Wyatt? Like for real?”
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Ivy froze.
Bluntly, obviously. She felt the light tug of Ace's hand as she stopped moving and he kept on. She only let her stride slip for a moment but it was enough that she lagged a pace behind him now. Maybe for the best that she could hide behind him, that he couldn't see her face, because she wasn't sure what emotions it had shown.
What did it matter? He was right, of course, it didn't. It was high school. Frankly in her opinion it had mostly stopped mattering the day after prom, but the very least here and now, a million miles away, all of that was nothing. Meaningless artifacts of a past life. She supposed outside of the people who had been present at Connor's party Ace was probably the person with the most personal stake in the matter, long before he'd apparently taken a personal stake in her; those were his friends, after all. They had been more and less than that to her, but they'd been important to him for longer. Did he want to find them, she wondered?
Did she? She'd tried not to think about it.
It was dangerous territory. It might matter, to him. She couldn't lie; she imagined most of the school knew by now, and there was hardly a point in denying something so widely witnessed even if she barely remembered the event herself. But... but what? But she still stood on the razor's edge and a stiff breeze might kill her. She had to choose her words carefully. She couldn't make him leave.
Selfishly, pointlessly, she just didn't want him to be angry at her, either.
"Yes," she said, her voice quiet. "I don't remember telling Bret, or why I told him, but yes." She bit the inside of her cheek, hedging her bets on how much she ought to say.
"I..."
Her hand squeezed a bit tighter.
"Why?"
Bluntly, obviously. She felt the light tug of Ace's hand as she stopped moving and he kept on. She only let her stride slip for a moment but it was enough that she lagged a pace behind him now. Maybe for the best that she could hide behind him, that he couldn't see her face, because she wasn't sure what emotions it had shown.
What did it matter? He was right, of course, it didn't. It was high school. Frankly in her opinion it had mostly stopped mattering the day after prom, but the very least here and now, a million miles away, all of that was nothing. Meaningless artifacts of a past life. She supposed outside of the people who had been present at Connor's party Ace was probably the person with the most personal stake in the matter, long before he'd apparently taken a personal stake in her; those were his friends, after all. They had been more and less than that to her, but they'd been important to him for longer. Did he want to find them, she wondered?
Did she? She'd tried not to think about it.
It was dangerous territory. It might matter, to him. She couldn't lie; she imagined most of the school knew by now, and there was hardly a point in denying something so widely witnessed even if she barely remembered the event herself. But... but what? But she still stood on the razor's edge and a stiff breeze might kill her. She had to choose her words carefully. She couldn't make him leave.
Selfishly, pointlessly, she just didn't want him to be angry at her, either.
"Yes," she said, her voice quiet. "I don't remember telling Bret, or why I told him, but yes." She bit the inside of her cheek, hedging her bets on how much she ought to say.
"I..."
Her hand squeezed a bit tighter.
"Why?"
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
“No complicated reason, I ain’t a complicated person,” he said with some unease, “I was just curious is all.”
Was that the truth? He supposed he had wondered in the way teenage boys wondered about such things. Ivy had a reputation but at least she owned up to it. There was honor in that. Ivy was always Ivy, she told the truth even when she lied. She couldn’t help herself, there was shit she couldn’t hide. She wasn't trustworthy but she could be trusted. He envied her in a lot of ways. She had lived in a way he had been scared too. The fear didn't seem worth it now.
“It was just high school right? It didn’t mean much, I never thought it did.”
And that was true but now high school seemed like everything. For a lot of them it was everything. It would be everything. He had so much more to live for or so he had thought. He had never really left his country or had sex or gone to a live hip-hop show. Memphis was supposed to play at the Naval Academy this year. Ace was looking forward to meeting the sailors. He was praying to see some now, any day now, on the horizon. There to rescue him.
He was quiet a bit…
“Twin brothers is pretty nuts.”
Why did he bring this shit up? He was such a teenage boy to be thinking about this shit now.
“You lived a life at the end of the day, right? I regret not goin’ after those triplets now.”
Though one of those were dead, weren’t they? They weren’t triplets no more.
“I’m sorry, I’m an asshole,” he said with some definitiveness, “Let’s hurry up, get the fuck outta this rain.”
Was that the truth? He supposed he had wondered in the way teenage boys wondered about such things. Ivy had a reputation but at least she owned up to it. There was honor in that. Ivy was always Ivy, she told the truth even when she lied. She couldn’t help herself, there was shit she couldn’t hide. She wasn't trustworthy but she could be trusted. He envied her in a lot of ways. She had lived in a way he had been scared too. The fear didn't seem worth it now.
“It was just high school right? It didn’t mean much, I never thought it did.”
And that was true but now high school seemed like everything. For a lot of them it was everything. It would be everything. He had so much more to live for or so he had thought. He had never really left his country or had sex or gone to a live hip-hop show. Memphis was supposed to play at the Naval Academy this year. Ace was looking forward to meeting the sailors. He was praying to see some now, any day now, on the horizon. There to rescue him.
He was quiet a bit…
“Twin brothers is pretty nuts.”
Why did he bring this shit up? He was such a teenage boy to be thinking about this shit now.
“You lived a life at the end of the day, right? I regret not goin’ after those triplets now.”
Though one of those were dead, weren’t they? They weren’t triplets no more.
“I’m sorry, I’m an asshole,” he said with some definitiveness, “Let’s hurry up, get the fuck outta this rain.”
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
He was babbling. Not that there was nothing there, but he was nervous, too, words escaped him thoughtlessly and by the time he was done he felt like an idiot. She knew the feeling.
She wanted to believe he wasn't a complicated person. Wyatt wasn't a complicated person. He'd worn his feelings on his sleeve, always, he was quick to jump to action, quick to listen, quick to forgive her mistakes. He didn't overthink things, she had never been afraid of him, the way she always had been with Bret and his persistent inscrutability. She'd been afraid of herself, afraid of how she would mess things up, which she had done a spectacular job of and Wyatt had forgiven her, regardless, and he was out here somewhere and she had done a good job of staying focused and not thinking about that until now.
He'd been alive when announcements happened. He was still alive now, she was sure. He wouldn't go down easily. She hoped to never see him again.
She looked at Ace. Ace the boy scout. Too innocent to bother with, too sweet, too much energy. A good boy, whatever that phrase was worth now, maybe he had been uncomplicated, once. She'd never known him well enough to make a proper judgment, just all those surface bits, just gossip, that had been enough. No one was uncomplicated, anymore. The island dredged up the depths in everyone.
Her hand still in his.
Connor, Bret, Wyatt. Ace. Cheerleaders date football players. She'd been running in circles.
He was right. It didn't matter.
"It's fine," she said shortly, biting her lip, stifling everything else she wanted to say. They'd made their way across from the infirmary; it was a straight shot to the back window, maybe 200 feet away. Wide open. If anyone was going to shoot at them, it would be the perfect time.
"We should move fast." As though he was going to be the problem, there.
She let go of his hand.
"Let's go."
She ran.
She wanted to believe he wasn't a complicated person. Wyatt wasn't a complicated person. He'd worn his feelings on his sleeve, always, he was quick to jump to action, quick to listen, quick to forgive her mistakes. He didn't overthink things, she had never been afraid of him, the way she always had been with Bret and his persistent inscrutability. She'd been afraid of herself, afraid of how she would mess things up, which she had done a spectacular job of and Wyatt had forgiven her, regardless, and he was out here somewhere and she had done a good job of staying focused and not thinking about that until now.
He'd been alive when announcements happened. He was still alive now, she was sure. He wouldn't go down easily. She hoped to never see him again.
She looked at Ace. Ace the boy scout. Too innocent to bother with, too sweet, too much energy. A good boy, whatever that phrase was worth now, maybe he had been uncomplicated, once. She'd never known him well enough to make a proper judgment, just all those surface bits, just gossip, that had been enough. No one was uncomplicated, anymore. The island dredged up the depths in everyone.
Her hand still in his.
Connor, Bret, Wyatt. Ace. Cheerleaders date football players. She'd been running in circles.
He was right. It didn't matter.
"It's fine," she said shortly, biting her lip, stifling everything else she wanted to say. They'd made their way across from the infirmary; it was a straight shot to the back window, maybe 200 feet away. Wide open. If anyone was going to shoot at them, it would be the perfect time.
"We should move fast." As though he was going to be the problem, there.
She let go of his hand.
"Let's go."
She ran.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Move fast?
Had she forgotten who she was talking too? Fast was what he did.
He had been telling her the truth if she had listened to him, he really wasn’t that complicated. Him, Wyatt, Bret, Connor, Jeff, Kayden--birds of a feather who flocked together. Bent and broken personalities that got off on fucking with and competing against each other. They were teammates though. That shit meant something, didn’t it? It had to, out here especially. If not, had they all been full of shit? Had that rah-rah been for nothing? There was a lot that came with accepting football as a core of your identity. It didn't lack toxicity.
Ace had thought himself better than that mob mentality, he kept telling himself. He had thought himself different.
It wasn't that complicated.
“Don’t gotta tell me twice!”
Running through the rain his eyes and focus narrowed on shelter. He was faster than Ivy, without her being injured and even with him carrying both her bags. He moved with quick, long strides--he felt proud when he ran, like a goddamn deer. A fuckin’ stag. He was his own patronous...he always loved those movies.
He didn’t notice anything but the goal ahead.
He ran like his life depended on it because for all he knew, it did.
Had she forgotten who she was talking too? Fast was what he did.
He had been telling her the truth if she had listened to him, he really wasn’t that complicated. Him, Wyatt, Bret, Connor, Jeff, Kayden--birds of a feather who flocked together. Bent and broken personalities that got off on fucking with and competing against each other. They were teammates though. That shit meant something, didn’t it? It had to, out here especially. If not, had they all been full of shit? Had that rah-rah been for nothing? There was a lot that came with accepting football as a core of your identity. It didn't lack toxicity.
Ace had thought himself better than that mob mentality, he kept telling himself. He had thought himself different.
It wasn't that complicated.
“Don’t gotta tell me twice!”
Running through the rain his eyes and focus narrowed on shelter. He was faster than Ivy, without her being injured and even with him carrying both her bags. He moved with quick, long strides--he felt proud when he ran, like a goddamn deer. A fuckin’ stag. He was his own patronous...he always loved those movies.
He didn’t notice anything but the goal ahead.
He ran like his life depended on it because for all he knew, it did.
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Agony.
Ivy had known it would be, of course. Her awkward shuffling steps, carefully calculated to avoid as much irritation as possible, had still hurt, a dull ache that sharpened when she took a wrongfooted step. Running was so obviously out of the question that she found herself unconsciously clutching her side before she took a single step. She ran anyway, as Ace blasted ahead of here with practically no effort, she felt as though she was pushing her broken rib back into place, every time her foot hit the ground she wondered if it was what being stabbed felt like.
The ground was muddy, uneven, the rain tapped patterns on her skull, her vision was blurred, white-hot poker between her ribs—
Ace was so far ahead. She gritted her teeth, moving faster, her useless pride—
She fell.
Of course she fell.
Her shoes weren't made for running, the ground was unstable, she couldn't see, she didn't know what tripped her but she hit the ground, mud everywhere. She caught herself on hands that now stung on top of everything else, her knees scraped, everything covered in mud, her shirt, her legs, her arms, she couldn't breathe and wondered if her rib had snapped completely, if it had stabbed her in the lungs, perhaps, if she was going to die gasping for breath alone in the middle of this field in a rainstorm.
Unfair. It was unfair.
She was crying, again. She hoped Julien was hurting. She wanted to pour her bleach down his throat.
She needed to move.
She hated it. She hated all of it.
She needed to move but she stared blankly at the ground, instead, and let the rain soak her bones.
Ivy had known it would be, of course. Her awkward shuffling steps, carefully calculated to avoid as much irritation as possible, had still hurt, a dull ache that sharpened when she took a wrongfooted step. Running was so obviously out of the question that she found herself unconsciously clutching her side before she took a single step. She ran anyway, as Ace blasted ahead of here with practically no effort, she felt as though she was pushing her broken rib back into place, every time her foot hit the ground she wondered if it was what being stabbed felt like.
The ground was muddy, uneven, the rain tapped patterns on her skull, her vision was blurred, white-hot poker between her ribs—
Ace was so far ahead. She gritted her teeth, moving faster, her useless pride—
She fell.
Of course she fell.
Her shoes weren't made for running, the ground was unstable, she couldn't see, she didn't know what tripped her but she hit the ground, mud everywhere. She caught herself on hands that now stung on top of everything else, her knees scraped, everything covered in mud, her shirt, her legs, her arms, she couldn't breathe and wondered if her rib had snapped completely, if it had stabbed her in the lungs, perhaps, if she was going to die gasping for breath alone in the middle of this field in a rainstorm.
Unfair. It was unfair.
She was crying, again. She hoped Julien was hurting. She wanted to pour her bleach down his throat.
She needed to move.
She hated it. She hated all of it.
She needed to move but she stared blankly at the ground, instead, and let the rain soak her bones.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Football at the high school level was ruled by one thing: speed.
The most basic measurement tool was the 40 yard dash. There was a rule of thumb for running backs, the elite separated themselves by running 4.5’s. That’s forty yards in four and a half seconds. Ace thought he had a chance for a scholarship the first time he ran that 4.5. He had been right. The track team didn’t run 40s, it was 50s and 100s. Dante nearly always out paced Ace past 50 yards--but within 40? None of his peers could catch him.
1 in 1000, Ace Beats, don’t you forget it.
He felt himself slow down as he tried to close in on the distance from the infirmary. The air thin out in his lungs. He was wasting too much energy. He didn’t need to sprint--at the same time he couldn’t help it.
Four and a half seconds and then he heard her fall.
Thunder crashed and rain came down harder, he plopped the bags down, rolling the straps off his shoulders in a dramatic motion before turning around and heading back to Ivy. She was covered in mud. Crying. What'd you expect him to do? Had you not been paying attention?
He couldn’t help himself. He doubted he would if he could.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey, don’t worry! S’okay, no big deal, you good, you good,” he was panicky, desperate to help and calm her down, he outstretched a hand as soon as he reached her, “I got you, s’all good, s'okay, we almost there.”
1 in 1000.
Whatever that meant.
The most basic measurement tool was the 40 yard dash. There was a rule of thumb for running backs, the elite separated themselves by running 4.5’s. That’s forty yards in four and a half seconds. Ace thought he had a chance for a scholarship the first time he ran that 4.5. He had been right. The track team didn’t run 40s, it was 50s and 100s. Dante nearly always out paced Ace past 50 yards--but within 40? None of his peers could catch him.
1 in 1000, Ace Beats, don’t you forget it.
He felt himself slow down as he tried to close in on the distance from the infirmary. The air thin out in his lungs. He was wasting too much energy. He didn’t need to sprint--at the same time he couldn’t help it.
Four and a half seconds and then he heard her fall.
Thunder crashed and rain came down harder, he plopped the bags down, rolling the straps off his shoulders in a dramatic motion before turning around and heading back to Ivy. She was covered in mud. Crying. What'd you expect him to do? Had you not been paying attention?
He couldn’t help himself. He doubted he would if he could.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey, don’t worry! S’okay, no big deal, you good, you good,” he was panicky, desperate to help and calm her down, he outstretched a hand as soon as he reached her, “I got you, s’all good, s'okay, we almost there.”
1 in 1000.
Whatever that meant.
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
He was there in a moment. It was just a long moment, defined by despondency. A moment where she was alone.
God, she didn't want to be alone.
But he was there, then, his hand outstretched. Her hands covered in mud, she felt guilty. He was so clean. She wiped her hand off on an as-of-yet untouched section of her shirt before pressing it into his and realizing suddenly that he was trying to help her up and when he tugged the stabbing pain in her side was enough to leave her breathless.
"Wait—"
A shell of a word from straining lungs. She dropped his hand and grabbed her side, instinctively, her breath in short bursts. They were vulnerable here, Ace especially, standing as he was. She couldn't lose him.
"I'll be—go inside, I'll—"
Selfish, conniving, relying on his goodness, he wouldn't leave. She sounded better, asking him to. Right?
God, she didn't want to be alone.
But he was there, then, his hand outstretched. Her hands covered in mud, she felt guilty. He was so clean. She wiped her hand off on an as-of-yet untouched section of her shirt before pressing it into his and realizing suddenly that he was trying to help her up and when he tugged the stabbing pain in her side was enough to leave her breathless.
"Wait—"
A shell of a word from straining lungs. She dropped his hand and grabbed her side, instinctively, her breath in short bursts. They were vulnerable here, Ace especially, standing as he was. She couldn't lose him.
"I'll be—go inside, I'll—"
Selfish, conniving, relying on his goodness, he wouldn't leave. She sounded better, asking him to. Right?
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
“Don’t be crazy,” he spoke with a hesitance to his voice, “We been together since day one, I got you, you just tired. We been movin’ all day.”
She was really hurt, wasn’t she? He probably should’ve left her, shouldn’t he? It wasn’t smart to be hitching yourself to a wounded girl who was 5 foot nothing and could barely move due to cracked ribs. That was the thing though, wasn’t it? He probably wasn’t that smart. This was a horrible, terrible situation...but he refused to let it get to him. He was obligated to stand tall and be strong. He was going to die anyway, most likely, either through murder or his collar exploding.
He refused to die as anyone but Ace.
Whatever that meant.
“Hold onto me, I’ll carry you, I dropped our shit, can’t let it get more wet,” he paused, “Prolly won’t hurt the crackers tho.”
She relented to his command and she felt so very small in his arms, her own wrapped around his neck. She was very hurt and felt very frail. He couldn’t help himself. The rain poured down harder. He moved slowly towards their bags. He could bench 225lbs, 10 times, easy. Even three days later on the island he still retained his strength--at least for a bit. He embraced the pain of exhaustion and hunger. No pain, no gain. He could rest later. There was some brief shuffling as he set Ivy’s legs down and lifted up their bags, placing the straps on to place both on one side and then he picked up Ivy again, balancing both her and their luggage with some difficulty. It was a bitch in the rain but Ace had always loved working in the rain, right? It was another game and the Horned Owls were up by 3. He just had to run out the clock--nothing flashy. 100 yards to victory, roughly, probably twice that to be real.
He was like a fire man he thought, carrying this wounded woman and all this gear. He was scared shit less, a sitting duck, but he was focused and brave because being brave wasn’t about not being scared it was about moving when he was. He had been scared of fumbling after that game where he had lost the ball at the goal line--he never fumbled again for the rest of the year. Fear was the fuel that you used to survive. It could make gazelles outrun cheetahs and mothers lift station wagons. He hated being scared but he didn't hate the fire it lit in him.
They intended to go through the back window but instead they worked their way through to the front. They were gonna be out in the open but he believed fully in the power of positive thinking. If he thought things would be fine than they would be fine. The Secret or some shit. Fat good it had done him this far.
It was a long way, he carried her all of it.
The air was less thin than when he was sprinting.
She was really hurt, wasn’t she? He probably should’ve left her, shouldn’t he? It wasn’t smart to be hitching yourself to a wounded girl who was 5 foot nothing and could barely move due to cracked ribs. That was the thing though, wasn’t it? He probably wasn’t that smart. This was a horrible, terrible situation...but he refused to let it get to him. He was obligated to stand tall and be strong. He was going to die anyway, most likely, either through murder or his collar exploding.
He refused to die as anyone but Ace.
Whatever that meant.
“Hold onto me, I’ll carry you, I dropped our shit, can’t let it get more wet,” he paused, “Prolly won’t hurt the crackers tho.”
She relented to his command and she felt so very small in his arms, her own wrapped around his neck. She was very hurt and felt very frail. He couldn’t help himself. The rain poured down harder. He moved slowly towards their bags. He could bench 225lbs, 10 times, easy. Even three days later on the island he still retained his strength--at least for a bit. He embraced the pain of exhaustion and hunger. No pain, no gain. He could rest later. There was some brief shuffling as he set Ivy’s legs down and lifted up their bags, placing the straps on to place both on one side and then he picked up Ivy again, balancing both her and their luggage with some difficulty. It was a bitch in the rain but Ace had always loved working in the rain, right? It was another game and the Horned Owls were up by 3. He just had to run out the clock--nothing flashy. 100 yards to victory, roughly, probably twice that to be real.
He was like a fire man he thought, carrying this wounded woman and all this gear. He was scared shit less, a sitting duck, but he was focused and brave because being brave wasn’t about not being scared it was about moving when he was. He had been scared of fumbling after that game where he had lost the ball at the goal line--he never fumbled again for the rest of the year. Fear was the fuel that you used to survive. It could make gazelles outrun cheetahs and mothers lift station wagons. He hated being scared but he didn't hate the fire it lit in him.
They intended to go through the back window but instead they worked their way through to the front. They were gonna be out in the open but he believed fully in the power of positive thinking. If he thought things would be fine than they would be fine. The Secret or some shit. Fat good it had done him this far.
It was a long way, he carried her all of it.
The air was less thin than when he was sprinting.
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
It was familiar, wasn't it? How small she felt, looking up at him when he reached down to pick her up, how small she felt against his body. Practically every detail was different, of course, the mud clinging to her body, the rain soaking their skin. His arms weren't quite big enough; his heartbeat, when she curled in tight and pressed her head against his chest, was too fast. But he was still warm in a way that brought her a million miles away, and that was enough, for now. The mud was quickly forgotten. She focused on her breathing, shallow but steady, grateful that the tears mixed with rain on her face.
She wasn't wrong in calling him stupid. Anyone who wasn't would have left her alone in the mud.
When she looked up again she realized they were walking around the building. She was hardly in a position to complain; she imagined it would be difficult to pull himself through the window without dropping her first, and she didn't think she could crawl through on her own at the moment, but she tightened her arms around him in anticipation of gunshots that didn't come. She wondered if he was nervous but she knew, of course he was. Everyone was nervous, his limbs just didn't shake like hers did. They were solid.
She was safe.
Just before he set her down, in front of the door, she took the hat off her head and placed it back on his.
She wasn't wrong in calling him stupid. Anyone who wasn't would have left her alone in the mud.
When she looked up again she realized they were walking around the building. She was hardly in a position to complain; she imagined it would be difficult to pull himself through the window without dropping her first, and she didn't think she could crawl through on her own at the moment, but she tightened her arms around him in anticipation of gunshots that didn't come. She wondered if he was nervous but she knew, of course he was. Everyone was nervous, his limbs just didn't shake like hers did. They were solid.
She was safe.
Just before he set her down, in front of the door, she took the hat off her head and placed it back on his.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."