This is a lot. Thankfully Ange has been in situations like these before - has been around gunfire like this before - so she's not as likely to freak out as much as your average person, or as much as some people in the bank - or whatever this is - currently are. She does wince, but it's more an instinctive physical reaction at the loud shots than fear.
Instead she tries to keep herself calm on purpose. Especially when Altius goes down. There's no time to panic when she isn't sure what state he's in, or what state she is going to be in if she stays out here in the open. The girl tries to get a handle on him the best she can to try and drag his body across the ground just a little bit further, just to a place with a slight bit more cover - though she realizes she isn't going to get far like this. She just isn't strong enough to move him by herself.
Her eyes nervously dart over to the people with guns, unsure how much time she has here. She tries to summon her magic, but it isn't working - nothing happens. ]
Hey. [ She calls out to Altius - her voice insistent, but hushed, like she doesn't want to draw attention to the two of them right now. If one of these people turns their gun on them again, it'll be big trouble and she knows it. ] Hey, are you conscious?!
[The screaming starts, glass shattering as the authorities outside react to the violence with yet more, and the captors alternate between panicked retaliation against those outside and spiteful execution of those inside. Ange isn't wrong to be concerned, though the nearby man with the pistol has focused his desperate efforts on avoiding the incoming fire.
Altius's amber eyes are unfocused, staring half-lidded at the ceiling with no awareness, but there's a struggle there, breath coming in shallow and one hand trembling as it barely reaches for—something, but ends up on Ange's elbow. He's bleeding at a concerning rate, the shot having gone straight through and shattering a rib along the way, which no doubt isn't helping the haze he has to work through.
Police shout another warning to the armed robbers, but it's only followed by more shots, more screaming, more injured. The pistol-wielding man catches Ange's red hair out of the corner of his eye, and turns. A young woman: a perfect hostage if there ever was one, or at least a decent shield, his last chance to get out of this—
But before he can do anything but reach towards her, a spray of blood bursts out of the side of his head and he falls dead only a few feet away, another body among dozens. Armored officers start to push into the building, rifles at the ready. It's only then that the origin of the memory makes a sound.]
... stop...
[It's a whispered plea, too little, too late, only drawn out of him because somehow, even so far from awareness, he knows how this goes—it's a failure that's clung to him for ten years, ingrained so deeply that nothing can ever erase it.]
[ Ange's attention moved away from the bleeding man again - if not just because there's so much else to pay attention to here, to make sure that they don't just both plainly end up dying in the middle of all this chaos.
It's the word, no matter how small, that draws her attention again. She looks down at Altius, noting how he's starting to look worse by the moment, and tries to suppress the blind panic she can feel coming up inside of her.
What does she do about this? About any of this? ]
How do I stop it?!
[ It's probably not the right question to ask him. He's an obviously dying man.
But Ange doesn't know what else to do. What else is anyone supposed to do to stop what's going on here, especially just a single person? If she'd trust the police a little more, she'd call out to them for help, to try and take Altius to a hospital, but she knows how the police work.
They've never saved anyone whatsoever. Not in her experience. ]
[Altius has no answer for her; though he's always thought himself capable of stopping this, it's too late, just like it always is. No chance to use his commanding magic to stop it, no chance to heal anyone when so many lie dead by the time he becomes aware.
Her experience is the sort he shares; careless or overeager officers were no small part of this day and its tragedy. There's nothing either of them can do but watch it play out, but even half-conscious as he is—he can't stand it. He struggles back to awareness, grip tightening on her arm.
Despite his waning strength, color draining from his face as seconds pass, he still can manage to pull her down next to him. If they both look dead, there's no reason for anyone to aim in her direction.
If nothing else, the shots won't last much longer. There aren't many left to shoot or be shot. Ambulances wail as they approach.]
cw: (vague) suicidal ideation or at least a lack of self care
Are you-- [ She starts, the moment she feels him tugging on her arm like that.
There's not enough resistance on her part - perhaps because he's so injured, almost lifeless, and Ange would feel cruel if she hurt someone in that state - to resist being pulled down to the ground though. But once she's down there with him, she continues, fully aware that her words won't be audible over all the sounds of chaos here anyway. ]
Are you being for real right now?! [ She hisses, clearly not too happy with his attempt at protecting her. ] Why can't you just let me shoot them? At least then we'll be out of all this nonsense quicker!
[ .. maybe she's slowly starting to realize it's a dream.
But even though she's aware it's a dream, that might still be a concerning lack of worry about dying.. Even fake dying.. ]
Edited 2025-02-05 14:30 (UTC)
there's going to be some more of that on this end in the near future probably
[Though he's still working towards consciousness, her agitated tone and the mention of "letting" her do anything at least reaches him, and his wheezed response comes without any real thought.]
Don't be a fool—
[Any attention drawn to her could be a death sentence, as it nearly was a moment before, as it nearly was for him, lying here in a growing pool of his own blood. Even so, he has to do something—is the thought he has as the world starts to come into focus around him, as the last gunfire of that day rings out and echoes into nothing.
A few more officers enter the building properly to secure the area; orders are barked outside, along with reports of threats being neutralized. The man's amber eyes dart to bullet holes in wood and motionless bodies before they land on Ange, whose arm he still holds.]
[ Ange - as a natural instinct, more than any sort of real fear - winces at the sound of the gunshots, but her head doesn't turn when things go quiet, nor when other people enter the building.
Her gaze is still directly aimed at the man instead. Even before he speaks, but especially when he speaks again, when he voices that you. ]
What? [ She asks, still staring.
There's so much she could ask here, really, but she isn't sure if she's even going to get answers with him in this state. Maybe she should just stick to what he's saying first. ]
[His expression constricts in confusion, brow furrowing deeply under the bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat.]
You're... not hurt?
[The way he says this might sound odd, even aside from the weakness of his voice—like he knows this for sure, but can't quite believe it.
For the moment, they're left alone by those entering; the police seem more interested in making sure there's no danger left rather than checking the fallen civilians, and the tires of an ambulance only just now screech as the medical responders begin to arrive outside.]
[ The words come out slowly, like they're not easy for her to say. Ange realizes her mind feels like this every single time she's here, in one of these.. dreams. Right? This is a dream, isn't it? Her mind gets so woozy, and it feels so hard to tell what's real and what isn't.
But maybe enough of those gunshots snapped her mind out of it. At least enough to slowly start to realize this.
She's not really here. Whatever this is, it's someone else's dream. His dream, likely. ]
Neither of us are. [ She slowly adds. ] Don't you remember..? Do you know what's going on here?
[Her statement has a slow but obvious effect; at first, the pained confusion fades from his expression until he's staring at her blankly, eyes slightly wide. Realization dawns, past the searing pain in his side and the desperation rattling around in his chest that drives him every time he goes through this memory.
[A broken laugh escapes him, breathy and unsteady.]
Of course, [he whispers, answering her question and his own thoughts, the smile on his face doing nothing to hide the horrible understanding in his gaze. How foolish of him, to have even the slightest bit of hope; even in his imagination he can never change the outcome. As his grip on Ange's arm loosens, he continues with a heavy certainty dragged out of him past all the walls he's built to protect himself.]
[ There's something about his words that feels like ice has just been plunged straight into her stomach, chilling her to the bones. I can never save any of them, he says, and Ange thinks about turning back time, about making contracts with witches, about reaching her hand out to her family, but she can never, never--
She sucks in a breath.
This isn't the time. Not in the middle of someone else's dream. The girl does her best to push down any and all vulnerability, even though her eyes are a little wider than a moment ago, her breath having hitched for a moment. ]
What do you mean? [ There's even something a little more pressing to her words now, like she absolutely has to find out. Like it's even more important to her now. ] Why are you supposed to save anyone here?
[He keeps his gaze on her, eyes dull with resignation. He takes in her change of demeanor, however minor, but for now his thoughts are too occupied with answering her question, and beyond that, remembering every life extinguished, to consider what those changes might mean.]
Because I could have.
[He sounds so certain. So solidly, absolutely certain, despite the weariness of his voice through each stabbing throb and the loss of blood. He takes in a wet, shaky breath.]
Because I survived... when so many didn't. [He turns his head to look at a body leaning up against a far desk, then another, prostrate and covered with broken glass.] A hardworking father signing for his family's first home; a brilliant graduate student, changing her documents to match her new name...
[All the while, his smile never quite disappears, even as it becomes more clearly bitter.]
But it's pointless, isn't it? Trying to... ascribe meaning to this. To anything.
[ The girl says - almost instantly, like the phrase is right there at the top of her mind for some reason. Ange doesn't even look at the people he's turning his head to look at. She's still just staring at him instead. ]
So-- yeah. Maybe it's useless. [ .. There's a bit of a pause now, but her gaze still doesn't move. ] Though it's kind of weird to be this concerned about people you don't even know. You know most people aren't like that, right?
Why should I have to know them to care? [he asks, his voice faint but backed by a forceful rebuttal in his expression as his eyes meet hers.] I don't need a personal connection to understand... that everyone deserves so much better. To want that for them.
[Ange is young; perhaps her world hasn't expanded far enough for her to see—truly see—the fact that everyone lives full lives, filled with complexities. Or perhaps it's not in her nature to even consider others to that point. He doesn't know that it matters; he's aware that he doesn't think like other people.]
But maybe you're right, and no one else feels that way. Maybe that's how... things like this can happen at all... [He clenches his jaw in a grimace.] Because they won't think of anything outside of their own lives—or can't afford to.
Edited (my space bar is on the fritz 😩) 2025-03-10 21:07 (UTC)
[ It doesn't even take all that long for her to reply. This, too, sounds like it's something that's instinctive to her. ]
That's right. People just don't care. [ There is something in her eyes as she says it though - something a little more sad. Rather than Ange saying she doesn't care, it just seems to be something she believes about the world. ]
Like you said-- This entire thing is proof of it. [ If it's something that did actually happen, and not just a random dream he's having. ] People hurt each other like this all the time without a care. They will end other people's lives without thinking about what it means for those other people or their loved ones.
[ ... ]
That's.. why I don't get what you're saying. I have seen so many people who don't care, so I don't know why you would. [ Why is he different? ]
[She must have lived through something truly cruel to come to that conclusion. It's not fair, it's not just, for the world to be full of such senseless misery. But he can't deny that's how things are, either—not after this.
But he won't accept it. He never has and he never will. In a hushed tone, Altius answers,]
Someone has to.
[He takes a breath, slow to avoid making the memory of the wound worse, and his expression loses some of the fierce determination, leaving mostly the tired misery of the tragedy—but his concern for the girl returns.]
Ange. You... should go. Try to forget this, if you can. [And god, he hopes she can.]
The girl does glance around them, like she's contemplating going. Or try to find some way to do just that, since she doesn't exactly like lingering here a whole lot either.
But rather than getting up and going, or trying to find a way to wake herself up, the girl's gaze instead returns right over at Altius. ]
[He looks up at her silently in return for a moment with a mild sense of surprise in the furrow of his brow, but his answer is as certain as it is resigned.]
I survived this ten years ago. ... I'll survive the memory.
[He'll never escape it, not really. But there's still a chance for her to—a chance for her to leave it behind in the way that he can't. She can still pass through those broken doors on her own two feet, while he waits here for the responders to make their way through the dead to reach him.]
[ Wouldn't Ange know that? It's all she is. The eternal survivor of a tragedy she never wanted to survive in the first place, filled with people she couldn't save.
If this place were to put her through that again, would she be alright with it? Of course she wouldn't be. Lying down in the face of that and giving up - the way he's doing right now - feels impossible to her.
[Altius can't disagree with the sentiment. He didn't want to survive this, either, continue to live a life he'd already only dedicated to destruction when he had to watch so many others lose theirs.
Even so, he doesn't understand. His expression loosens with confusion at her declaration, the way she refuses to move. Why wouldn't she turn and go without him? Leave this horrid scene behind, knowing the only harm done was resolved long ago? The pain he's in now is only a realistic phantom; he knows he'll be fine when he wakes.]
Wh... [He breathes out half a question before he manages a full one.] Why?
[ Ange is quiet for a very slight moment too. Like she can't response too instinctively, like she has to think about it for a moment. It feels a little vulnerable to say this, after all, especially to someone she doesn't know all that well.
But she still knows it's true. And she can't think of a better excuse, so-- the truth it is, no matter how embarrassing. ]
Because I can't leave you behind like this.
[ Or rather-- she won't. She refuses. Ange knows she won't feel great if she just leaves here on her own now. ]
[The confusion fades over the course of a few seconds, gradually replaced by sympathy. She's softer than she lets on, it seems. He supposes that's not so much of a surprise given her responses so far.]
You know this isn't real... [he replies, but it's only a mild retort. He thinks maybe he understands her hesitation. And as much as he hates the idea of her staying in this memory for any longer than she already has... perhaps it won't do her much more harm to follow it through to its conclusion.
He turns one hand upwards as an offer—the one less bloodied.]
It will... take them a minute.
Edited (that was the wrong dash!) 2025-04-20 04:06 (UTC)
[ The girl doesn't seem to respond to him saying it's not real. Though in her gaze is confirmation that he's right about that. She knows it isn't real. And yet she's staying all the same - even if she doesn't want to further elaborate on it, feeling weirdly vulnerable in this moment.
Instead she's quiet for a moment, only to then speak up with: ]
[He's glad, at least, to be able to reassure her with some certainty. One small upside to the recurring nightmare.]
That's how it's always gone. [He wakes from his dazed state, struggles over his failure, then—] The EMTs realize I'm alive, take me into an ambulance... and I black out to another day.
[If this world might make something more of it than bringing Ange into his dream, he couldn't say.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
expiationmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
expiationlogs2025-01-13 12:39 pm
held hostage
This is a lot. Thankfully Ange has been in situations like these before - has been around gunfire like this before - so she's not as likely to freak out as much as your average person, or as much as some people in the bank - or whatever this is - currently are. She does wince, but it's more an instinctive physical reaction at the loud shots than fear.
Instead she tries to keep herself calm on purpose. Especially when Altius goes down. There's no time to panic when she isn't sure what state he's in, or what state she is going to be in if she stays out here in the open. The girl tries to get a handle on him the best she can to try and drag his body across the ground just a little bit further, just to a place with a slight bit more cover - though she realizes she isn't going to get far like this. She just isn't strong enough to move him by herself.
Her eyes nervously dart over to the people with guns, unsure how much time she has here. She tries to summon her magic, but it isn't working - nothing happens. ]
Hey. [ She calls out to Altius - her voice insistent, but hushed, like she doesn't want to draw attention to the two of them right now. If one of these people turns their gun on them again, it'll be big trouble and she knows it. ] Hey, are you conscious?!
no subject
Altius's amber eyes are unfocused, staring half-lidded at the ceiling with no awareness, but there's a struggle there, breath coming in shallow and one hand trembling as it barely reaches for—something, but ends up on Ange's elbow. He's bleeding at a concerning rate, the shot having gone straight through and shattering a rib along the way, which no doubt isn't helping the haze he has to work through.
Police shout another warning to the armed robbers, but it's only followed by more shots, more screaming, more injured. The pistol-wielding man catches Ange's red hair out of the corner of his eye, and turns. A young woman: a perfect hostage if there ever was one, or at least a decent shield, his last chance to get out of this—
But before he can do anything but reach towards her, a spray of blood bursts out of the side of his head and he falls dead only a few feet away, another body among dozens. Armored officers start to push into the building, rifles at the ready. It's only then that the origin of the memory makes a sound.]
... stop...
[It's a whispered plea, too little, too late, only drawn out of him because somehow, even so far from awareness, he knows how this goes—it's a failure that's clung to him for ten years, ingrained so deeply that nothing can ever erase it.]
no subject
It's the word, no matter how small, that draws her attention again. She looks down at Altius, noting how he's starting to look worse by the moment, and tries to suppress the blind panic she can feel coming up inside of her.
What does she do about this? About any of this? ]
How do I stop it?!
[ It's probably not the right question to ask him. He's an obviously dying man.
But Ange doesn't know what else to do. What else is anyone supposed to do to stop what's going on here, especially just a single person? If she'd trust the police a little more, she'd call out to them for help, to try and take Altius to a hospital, but she knows how the police work.
They've never saved anyone whatsoever. Not in her experience. ]
no subject
Her experience is the sort he shares; careless or overeager officers were no small part of this day and its tragedy. There's nothing either of them can do but watch it play out, but even half-conscious as he is—he can't stand it. He struggles back to awareness, grip tightening on her arm.
Despite his waning strength, color draining from his face as seconds pass, he still can manage to pull her down next to him. If they both look dead, there's no reason for anyone to aim in her direction.
If nothing else, the shots won't last much longer. There aren't many left to shoot or be shot. Ambulances wail as they approach.]
cw: (vague) suicidal ideation or at least a lack of self care
There's not enough resistance on her part - perhaps because he's so injured, almost lifeless, and Ange would feel cruel if she hurt someone in that state - to resist being pulled down to the ground though. But once she's down there with him, she continues, fully aware that her words won't be audible over all the sounds of chaos here anyway. ]
Are you being for real right now?! [ She hisses, clearly not too happy with his attempt at protecting her. ] Why can't you just let me shoot them? At least then we'll be out of all this nonsense quicker!
[ .. maybe she's slowly starting to realize it's a dream.
But even though she's aware it's a dream, that might still be a concerning lack of worry about dying.. Even fake dying.. ]
there's going to be some more of that on this end in the near future probably
Don't be a fool—
[Any attention drawn to her could be a death sentence, as it nearly was a moment before, as it nearly was for him, lying here in a growing pool of his own blood. Even so, he has to do something—is the thought he has as the world starts to come into focus around him, as the last gunfire of that day rings out and echoes into nothing.
A few more officers enter the building properly to secure the area; orders are barked outside, along with reports of threats being neutralized. The man's amber eyes dart to bullet holes in wood and motionless bodies before they land on Ange, whose arm he still holds.]
You...
no subject
Her gaze is still directly aimed at the man instead. Even before he speaks, but especially when he speaks again, when he voices that you. ]
What? [ She asks, still staring.
There's so much she could ask here, really, but she isn't sure if she's even going to get answers with him in this state. Maybe she should just stick to what he's saying first. ]
no subject
You're... not hurt?
[The way he says this might sound odd, even aside from the weakness of his voice—like he knows this for sure, but can't quite believe it.
For the moment, they're left alone by those entering; the police seem more interested in making sure there's no danger left rather than checking the fallen civilians, and the tires of an ambulance only just now screech as the medical responders begin to arrive outside.]
no subject
[ The words come out slowly, like they're not easy for her to say. Ange realizes her mind feels like this every single time she's here, in one of these.. dreams. Right? This is a dream, isn't it? Her mind gets so woozy, and it feels so hard to tell what's real and what isn't.
But maybe enough of those gunshots snapped her mind out of it. At least enough to slowly start to realize this.
She's not really here. Whatever this is, it's someone else's dream. His dream, likely. ]
Neither of us are. [ She slowly adds. ] Don't you remember..? Do you know what's going on here?
1/2
Then...]
no subject
Of course, [he whispers, answering her question and his own thoughts, the smile on his face doing nothing to hide the horrible understanding in his gaze. How foolish of him, to have even the slightest bit of hope; even in his imagination he can never change the outcome. As his grip on Ange's arm loosens, he continues with a heavy certainty dragged out of him past all the walls he's built to protect himself.]
I can never save any of them.
no subject
She sucks in a breath.
This isn't the time. Not in the middle of someone else's dream. The girl does her best to push down any and all vulnerability, even though her eyes are a little wider than a moment ago, her breath having hitched for a moment. ]
What do you mean? [ There's even something a little more pressing to her words now, like she absolutely has to find out. Like it's even more important to her now. ] Why are you supposed to save anyone here?
no subject
Because I could have.
[He sounds so certain. So solidly, absolutely certain, despite the weariness of his voice through each stabbing throb and the loss of blood. He takes in a wet, shaky breath.]
Because I survived... when so many didn't. [He turns his head to look at a body leaning up against a far desk, then another, prostrate and covered with broken glass.] A hardworking father signing for his family's first home; a brilliant graduate student, changing her documents to match her new name...
[All the while, his smile never quite disappears, even as it becomes more clearly bitter.]
But it's pointless, isn't it? Trying to... ascribe meaning to this. To anything.
no subject
[ The girl says - almost instantly, like the phrase is right there at the top of her mind for some reason. Ange doesn't even look at the people he's turning his head to look at. She's still just staring at him instead. ]
So-- yeah. Maybe it's useless. [ .. There's a bit of a pause now, but her gaze still doesn't move. ] Though it's kind of weird to be this concerned about people you don't even know. You know most people aren't like that, right?
no subject
[Ange is young; perhaps her world hasn't expanded far enough for her to see—truly see—the fact that everyone lives full lives, filled with complexities. Or perhaps it's not in her nature to even consider others to that point. He doesn't know that it matters; he's aware that he doesn't think like other people.]
But maybe you're right, and no one else feels that way. Maybe that's how... things like this can happen at all... [He clenches his jaw in a grimace.] Because they won't think of anything outside of their own lives—or can't afford to.
no subject
That's right. People just don't care. [ There is something in her eyes as she says it though - something a little more sad. Rather than Ange saying she doesn't care, it just seems to be something she believes about the world. ]
Like you said-- This entire thing is proof of it. [ If it's something that did actually happen, and not just a random dream he's having. ] People hurt each other like this all the time without a care. They will end other people's lives without thinking about what it means for those other people or their loved ones.
[ ... ]
That's.. why I don't get what you're saying. I have seen so many people who don't care, so I don't know why you would. [ Why is he different? ]
no subject
But he won't accept it. He never has and he never will. In a hushed tone, Altius answers,]
Someone has to.
[He takes a breath, slow to avoid making the memory of the wound worse, and his expression loses some of the fierce determination, leaving mostly the tired misery of the tragedy—but his concern for the girl returns.]
Ange. You... should go. Try to forget this, if you can. [And god, he hopes she can.]
no subject
The girl does glance around them, like she's contemplating going. Or try to find some way to do just that, since she doesn't exactly like lingering here a whole lot either.
But rather than getting up and going, or trying to find a way to wake herself up, the girl's gaze instead returns right over at Altius. ]
What about you then?
no subject
I survived this ten years ago. ... I'll survive the memory.
[He'll never escape it, not really. But there's still a chance for her to—a chance for her to leave it behind in the way that he can't. She can still pass through those broken doors on her own two feet, while he waits here for the responders to make their way through the dead to reach him.]
no subject
[ Wouldn't Ange know that? It's all she is. The eternal survivor of a tragedy she never wanted to survive in the first place, filled with people she couldn't save.
If this place were to put her through that again, would she be alright with it? Of course she wouldn't be. Lying down in the face of that and giving up - the way he's doing right now - feels impossible to her.
Maybe that's why she isn't moving.
Maybe that is why she has to insist. ]
You need to leave with me.
no subject
Even so, he doesn't understand. His expression loosens with confusion at her declaration, the way she refuses to move. Why wouldn't she turn and go without him? Leave this horrid scene behind, knowing the only harm done was resolved long ago? The pain he's in now is only a realistic phantom; he knows he'll be fine when he wakes.]
Wh... [He breathes out half a question before he manages a full one.] Why?
no subject
But she still knows it's true. And she can't think of a better excuse, so-- the truth it is, no matter how embarrassing. ]
Because I can't leave you behind like this.
[ Or rather-- she won't. She refuses. Ange knows she won't feel great if she just leaves here on her own now. ]
no subject
You know this isn't real... [he replies, but it's only a mild retort. He thinks maybe he understands her hesitation. And as much as he hates the idea of her staying in this memory for any longer than she already has... perhaps it won't do her much more harm to follow it through to its conclusion.
He turns one hand upwards as an offer—the one less bloodied.]
It will... take them a minute.
no subject
Instead she's quiet for a moment, only to then speak up with: ]
And then? Will you just wake up..?
no subject
That's how it's always gone. [He wakes from his dazed state, struggles over his failure, then—] The EMTs realize I'm alive, take me into an ambulance... and I black out to another day.
[If this world might make something more of it than bringing Ange into his dream, he couldn't say.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)