Post by Ashe Kandor on Aug 14, 2010 22:34:36 GMT -6
How are you gentlemen?!
By the time Tobias pulled into Haven’s driveway on 4, Ashe had gained a thorough understanding of how an animal felt when you didn’t kill it on the first shot. She was queasy, cold, clammy—generally awful. What was worst, though, was the feeling of weakness in her muscles. It was like the wound in her arm was a drain and all her strength was leaching out of it. Ashe was used to feeling capable, stable; she could trust her body not to fail her. But as 4 stopped rumbling Ashe questioned if she could make it inside without stumbling or falling over.[/blockquote]
With grim determination, Ashe unlatched herself from Tobias; she winced and let out a small sound as a mini explosion of pain pulsed through her left arm. But there was absolutely no way in Hell that she was going to give in. Grinding her teeth, Ashe swung her leg over the motorcycle and stood shakily. She was stronger than this, dammit. She’d been injured before. This was just on a bigger scale. She could suck it up and move and not cause anyone any more trouble than she had to.
“C’mon. Someone’s always home,” she said to Tobias before heading up the small paved walkway that lead to the front door. At least she wasn’t gimping around with a leg wound. Now that would have been a pain. As it was, her gait was relatively steady, and she managed to avoid falling into the raspberry bushes next to the walkway. The suburbs weren’t exactly ideal farmland, but with hard work and some TLC the fruits and vegetables that they planted did pretty well. Their modest yields helped fill the gap between supply drops, at least.
Though it made her elbow scream, she let up the pressure on it long enough to open the door. Ashe supposed in the back of her mind that she should be a better hostess and wait up for Tobias, but with the big bloody wound in her arm she wasn’t feeling so inclined. He had two legs and a brain. He could figure it out. “Evan?” she called. “Eden? Anyone home?” Ashe shuffled into the small half-bathroom as she spoke, pulling a roll of gauze and a bottle of vodka from the cabinet. Shit, the bullet was still in her arm, wasn’t it? Well, this would be just a barrel of fun.
(OOC: Ha ha. Probably gonna edit that title later. Couldn't think of a serious one.)