Raven
It has been a mere 10 minutes since you entered the calm cluster of trees, and yet, you still feel the overwhelming need to flee the site. Every few seconds, you imagine a snapping twig behind you, or a rustle of leaves to your side. Paranoia incases you, damaging the reliability of your senses. A few attempted-casual glances at your sister and her new admirer inform you that you are the only one on the alert. For God's sakes! They don't even have their weapons loaded! You quicken your pace, striding yards ahead of them to limit the amount of stimulation your senses receive, although you're still not quite relaxed enough to stop pausing every few seconds to listen for the return of footsteps that you were so sure that you had heard.
Every sound that escapes a creature's mouth pierces your concentration, announcing itself as an approaching mudo, but fleeting and giving no indication of repetition, leaving you unsure of what exactly it was. Eventually, it crosses your mind that it might be helpful to just ignore these false alarms that bombard your thoughts; but every time you hear or suspect you see something, your promise to yourself is meaningless, and you fret over your untrustworthy senses, nonetheless.
You decide that this would most likely be the best time to analyze the information that was recently unloaded on you by your golden retriever friend; that and it would probably be distracting enough to be qualified as calming.
You start with the information that interested you the most: not only was your long-lost sister one of the heads of the rebellion--which is shockingly unsurprising; you've noticed in these past short weeks that she has a habit of being stubborn and refuses to comply with any suggestion that you might have to offer--but she was also one of the first to actually join the rebuttal, maybe even one of the people who started it in the first place. You wonder if there were a lot of people back then, or if it was just a big empty building, housing a few wandering kids. Or maybe the building that the Substratum occupies wasn't the original building? You can't be sure. However, you have a lingering feeling that the beginning life wasn't as luxurious as what you consider a rough-and-tumble lifestyle that you live today. You think that, maybe, Kinsey didn't have that much of an easier life as you did growing up. She most likely raised herself, being one of the few members. You feel a brief pang of pity, but it only lasts a moment, and you continue your one-track-minded brooding.
You imagine your sister as the face of the rebellion; young, strong, and stubborn as ever. You wonder how big of a part she actually played in the demise of the Rebuttal. Perhaps, she was the one who initially started it. If she was that thoroughly involved, you can't be exactly sure how much violence actually took place, if any. Could there have been casualties in a war created by children? Surely not. You some how can't put your sister in that kind of position--in your head, of course; in actuality, you have no problem accepting her brutality-- as a child. You've always pictured her as being an innocent kid; always staying out of trouble when it comes to the big stuff. Perhaps, she was actually quite the trouble-maker. You have no difficulty seeing her with an early developed snarky attitude.
You have absolutely no idea what your sister was like, never having once asked her for that kind of information. Maybe she was resourceful; making bowls out of scraps and clothing with feather-stitch. Was she respected or outcasted? Disliked or charismatic? You realize that you have absolutely no idea who your sister is under the mask that she wears for those she does not trust. You have lots of questions, and you make a mental note to take them to Sadie later, if she's still open to talk. Right now, she could be anywhere in the surrounding woods. You might have even crossed right by her path a few times, unknowingly.
You get to a brightly lit clearing; a meadow of sorts; with the grey sky spitting snow that powders the wildflowers--severely out of season, but flourishing nonetheless--that decorate the serene area. The strange hexaploid flowers capture your attention, keeping you frozen at the opening of the meadow. Soon, the rest of your 'squad' catches up with you.
"What is this place?" You wonder aloud, your voice an awed whisper. However rhetorical your question may be, it is ignorantly answered, startling you out of your amazed stupor.
"I dunno." Michael says stupidly. You scowl at him, however, he doesn't look at you in time to catch it. You instead give him a smug look while he's still paying attention. He looks puzzled, but you don't continue the unwelcome conversation. Your focus returns to the fascinating haven you have just stumbled upon, without much difficulty. Your feeling of security shatters as angry conversation finds its way to your ears.
You hush your sister and Michael, cutting off their stupidly unimportant conversation. They don't hear you though, and chatter on. You turn to face them, a brisk "SH!" hissing from between your teeth. They stare at you, obviously caught off guard, a bit of shock and disbelief dabbled onto the palette of their faces. You ignore them, turning back towards the meadow to try and catch another whiff of the conversation you heard coming from between the branches. But to no avail. It seems as though the window of opportunity has shut right in your face, just as you were about to jump through to the promising other side.
You sigh, aggravated and frustrated. However, you cannot remain hostile for long. You make your way to the center of the little haven, brushing off the previous stress. You lie down on your back in the plush grass, folding your hands on your stomach and letting the tiny flakes of snow land on your face, as you stare up at the cloudy sky.
Your thoughts seem to take a more peaceful turn as well. 'I shouldn't stand in the way of Kinsey and Michael, really.' you think, 'I shouldn't hold any grudges against them, either. I mean, really, It isn't their fault at all that they had the lives that they had. After all, it might be easier to just give up and be friends with them. I'm way too uptight about all of this. I should be happy that I've finally found my sister! Not angry at her for leaving me behind when she was just a kid." You close your eyes, finally come to terms with how things have turned out around you.
You hear the thudding of a body settling next to you on the ground and you dreamily open your eyes. You're face-to-face with a grinning Kinsey, and you smile back at her blissfully. Beside her, you can see Michael on the grass as well, smiling and holding your sister's hand. 'They make a cute couple.' you think, turning your face back up to the sky, a wide grin blooming across your features at the idea. You feel the calmness that envelopes you, and are unaware at how unnatural it feels until more angry banter breaks the eery silence; although you just previously considered the quiet quite relaxing.
You sit up--a bit reluctantly, if you're being completely honest with yourself--and take a look at your surroundings. Nothing seems to stand out of place, as far as you can tell, even though your judgement is poor at this point. You feel that you are slipping from reality; submerging in the false stress-relief that the meadow seems to be smothering you with. The thought crosses your mind then to resist. But how harmful could it really be? After all, you haven't felt this at-peace since... okay, well, you've never been this at peace in your life. So, what could really be the catch? There doesn't seem to be anything dangerous lurking nearby, other than those two, fighting, off somewhere.
Curiosity flickers across your consciousness and you prepare to actually get up, something in the back of your mind wanting to get some answers. You finally pull yourself to your feet and go to take a peek through some of the walls of vegetation. One glance behind you lets you know that neither one of your comrades is going to assist you in your search. You roll your eyes, but let a small smile taint your angry expression.
The arguing is growing louder, so you decide to go back to Michael and Kinsey, needing to tell them to get their weapons and prepare for the possibility of a fight. Who ever is tromping around the forest couldn't possibly be wanting to find anything good. Probably a thief or a run-away. Perhaps a recently infected. You lower yourself to your sister's shoulder and shake it, making strange groaning noises; you cant seem to actually form words and your lips feel heavy. It takes a lot of effort to force yourself to move, and your sister doesn't seem too intent on moving either. But urgency shoots through your garble, and Kinsey finally complies. Michael is also unwillingly aroused and soon all three of you stand, weapons at the ready. You can feel whatever was tainting your system slowly drain out of you as you force yourself to complete simple tasks; load your weapon, keep standing, open your eyes. After a few moments, you feel as though your senses are almost back to normal, alert and sensitive. Your colleagues seem to be waking from their stupor as well. The smoke in your mind clears and you can tell who ever you heard arguing earlier is almost here.
First a frail looking man steps into the clearing looking frustrated and frazzled. "I'm not going anywhere until I catch that mudo!" He shouts behind him as he bursts through the dense plants. He stops dead in his tracks as his gaze lands on your dazed little squad. His expression sours, but his companion follows suit and stands at the first man's side as soon as he enters the clearing. He seems more relaxed, an air of resolution about him, as if he's made up his mind about complying with everything that will ever happen to him in his entire life, gladly. Through this personal fog, you can sense a cloud of ignorance.
"What are you kids doing out here?" He asks casually, as if he's known each one of you since before you were born, and simply happened to stumble upon you in some kind of happy coincidence. You look over at your sister and Michael, who look back at you with raised eyebrows and questions on their tongues. You shift your gaze back on the duo of strangely opposite-but-similar companions.
"We're patrolling." You say simply, confused and unsure how to explain any further.
"We could ask you the same thing." You look up at your sister. You see that she's taken her confusion to her usual level of annoyance. She glares at the two men, obviously not planning on tolerating them for much longer than necessary.
"You're not going to find anything out in these parts. We've been scouring the area for hours." The calm one says cooly. He takes a close examination of his fingers as he speaks, nonchalantly. This display of condescension seems to set off your sister, who looks fully fed up at this point. The fog of the meadow has completely left her system; you can tell.
"Who do you work for, old man?"
"Depends," The man says. "Who do YOU work for."
"Substratum, second in command of the head firing squad, sir." Michael says, although no one was talking to him. He comes to a salute as he states his title.
"Aren't you a little young to be second in command of such a big team?" The angry-looking man questions, a bit too surprised for your taste. You despise condescension just as much as your sister.
"Aren't you a little old to be this far away from the hospital tent?" You bark back, more confidently than you can manage to retain for long. The angry man senses your weakness in this and immediately pounces on you.
"I'll have you know, I'm a young and healthy 57." He says, as if this helps his case. First impressions aren't going very well for anyone. You and the rest of your squad unsuccessfully suppress laughter.
"What's your name, son?" He barks at Michael, singling him out.
"Michael Andrews, sir." Michael composes himself quickly and takes a serious posture.
"Humph." He says, dissatisfied with something. You are uncomfortable with these people here, obviously judging your squad, based on youth, personality, anything that doesn't fit their expectations. They have no right, but you aren't brave enough to say so.
"And you!" He screams, pointing a wrinkled finger right at your face. "Whats your name!"
You blush at the unwanted attention, but you keep your face composed. "Raven Malone." You try to avoid his gaze, afraid he will recognize the name. Who knows what kind of reputation your parents have set for you and your sister.
"Look me in the eye when you speak, Malone!" He shouts.
"Alright, Tom, I think that's quite enough." The calm one says, stepping in front of his companion and putting a hand on his chest. The red faced man takes the hint and backs off.
"Like I was saying." The other one redirects. "There isn't anything around here for miles, so you kids better just go on home."
"We're not going anywhere, thanks." The Kinsey says, and the calm one raises an eyebrow at her. "Kinsey Malone," She answers the unspoken question.
"No relation?"
"Actually, we're sisters."
"Family business?" Asks the angry one, a cool air about him.
"Oh, no relation whatsoever." Michael pipes up, a little embarrassed.
"I see." The two men exchange glances, smirking, but you don't fail to pick up the hidden meaning in the conversation. You blush, embarrassed.
"Alright, lover boy. We'll just be on our way then. Have fun." Says the first man, winking at Micahael and turning to leave. You look at Kinsey, disgusted. She looks enraged when she meets your eyes.
That's when you hear it.
"What was that?" Whispers the angry-one.
"Oh, not this again." The other man rolls his eyes.
"No, no. I heard it too." You confirm, reluctant to take the angry man's side. The group stops to listen, and you hear it again.
"I heard it that time." Kinsey reports. The whole group now stands frozen, listening for any more signs of an oncoming horde. "I'll go take a look." She says, turning and disappearing into the woods in the direction where the noises were heard. The awkward group stands there while your sister is absent, stealing glances at each other. Then, moments later, Kinsey bursts back through the shrubbery, wide eyed and out of breath. One word escapes her mouth before all hell breaks loose: "Horde,"
Chaos explodes from that moment forth, and the horde bursts through the wall of vegetation, moaning and gurgling at each other, eager to get ahold of the living. Rounds of rifle shots fire at the mass of decomposing bodies, and you pick up your weapon to join in the battle. Half of the horde is shot down when you notice that the two men are missing. You wonder if you should be concerned, but you focus on the most demanding threat first.
You hear the shouts even as you mow down the rotting mass.
"Jacob!" Screams the angry one. You can see genuine fear blooming across his features as he calls out in desperation. "Jacob!"
At that moment, sympathy wins over and you abandon your position to go help in his search. You hear a few protesting calls from your squad as you turn to leave, but they make no moves to stop you as you run for the woods.
As soon as you step out of the clearing, you are smacked in the face with what seems like cold, hard air. You are immediately uncomfortable and wish to return to the meadow, but you reluctantly persevere.
"Hello?" You scream as you fight your way through the vegetation. Right as the word leaves your lips, you smack right into the sweaty back of the man. Despite the snow, his skin is sticky and hot and you instantly long to bathe.
"What are you doing?" He barks, spinning to face you. You've obviously caught him off guard; he could not wipe his face clear of his worries soon enough, and you catch the human expression before anger rushes to take its place.
"I'm helping you find him." You say, trying to work a comforting tone into your voice.
"Oh." He says. He seems a little surprised, but you ignore him.
"Jacob!" You scream, turning away from the man.
He looks at you, an expression you cant place;gratitude? Concern?
"Whats your name again?" He asks, his face considerably softer.
"Raven. Yours?"
"Tom." He reaches out to shake your hand. You shake it, his grip firm, and you take the gesture as a sign of respect.
"Right." You say, awkwardly. You wipe the palm of your hand on the back of your pants. His hand was a bit too sweaty for your taste. You both resume calling Jacob's name until your throat is sore.
Tom
Your level of irritation is building rapidly, and every now and then you shoot angry glances at Jacob's noisy boots. You're eager to get ahold of some mudo, but you're afraid that Jacob's foot fall will announce your arrival before you have any chance of ambush, and tip off any lurking beings. What you would do to get your hands on one of those filthy things.
"Jacob, will you STOP that! You'll wake up people who are sleeping ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD with those damned boots!" You suddenly burst, swiveling on your heel to confront Jacob. He instantly looks shocked, and then his innocent expression smolders into guilt. You always regret snapping at him. He's got the mind of a puppy and you cant help but treating him like one; scolding him but then wanting to comfort him right afterwards.
"I'm sorry, Tom." He says, guiltily. He makes no attempt of standing up for himself.
"No, you're fine. I'm just being too sensitive." You instantly take the blame. This seems to cheer him up a bit, although his footsteps continue to ring through the vegetation. You set your jaw a trudge forth.
The two of you walk (relatively) silently for the next few minutes. You keep a special ear-out for anything else stirring in the woods. You've been tromping the grounds for hours without a single trace of life anywhere in sight; well, death included. The slightest twitch of a forest creature or quiver of a branch sends you into a hyper-aware state, pausing to listen for any further activity. However, there is none that captures your attention.
And you should have expected as much. You and Jacob have been in retirement for years, Eliza wouldn't assign you to an active area if you were the last troupers in the organization. She thinks the two of you aren't young enough to be able to do any harm even if a horde of mudo walked right up to you. This rustles your feathers a bit, and you scowl at the ground, hugging your jacket to your middle, against the cold.
"Should we go ahead and head back, then?" Jacob suggests after a while, picking up on your frustration. He's always been good at reading the air around you; if you didn't know better you would assume he was psychic. You can tell he's tired, too. He hasn't aged as well as you have; the cold sending aches deep into his joints. He cant walk much further, you're sure of it. Sympathy and pity smothers your need to prove yourself to the substratum, and you decide to give Jacob a well-deserved break.
You open your mouth to comply, but just as you do, you hear the crunch of a twig under a stiff, heavy foot. You freeze, and Jacob looks at you in confusion. After remaining in your position for a while, Jacob mutters something under his breath, but you don't quite catch it.
"What was that?" You challenge, sure it was an insult regarding your sanity.
"I said, 'old coot can't hear worth anything.'" He replies, oblivious to the social norm of pretending to have not said anything. You would feel pity for him if he had not insulted your old age.
"How did you not hear that?" You demand.
"Admit it, Tom, the only reason you thought you heard something is because you want a fight. You haven't been outside substratum territory for years, I don't blame you for being so wistful." He shakes his head, as if somehow you are his inferior. This irritates you a bit, considering you've been practically looking after him for 15 years now.
"No, I really did hear something, I swear! Listen!" Jacob pauses to take in the noises around you, but after a few moments he just shakes his head, turning around to walk in the opposite direction. You think you hear him scoff at you.
"You're off your game, Tom. Let's go." He calls over his shoulder, making his way back to substratum territory. But now that you've picked up a live trail, you're determined to prove your worth. You will not go back to Eliza empty handed. She has to see that you aren't too old for patrolling, in pristine condition, even. You're eyes sure have seen better days, but otherwise, you're as fit as a fiddle. Jacob's joints will have to wait, because this is your chance of the day.
"I'm not going anywhere until I catch that mudo!" You shout as you burst through a nearby wall of shrubbery, out into a meadow inhabited by three youngsters. You wrinkle your nose in distaste, disappointed at your find. Surely, you heard some sort of undead noise, not those of which emanate from children. You remain where you stand, though. A moment later, Jacob steps through the hole you've made in the vegetation, and walks to your side, taking a look at the kids. They're all armed to the teeth, and have their weapons pointed at both your's and Jacob's hearts. However, Jacob makes no move in defense. He attempts to take a different approach, but he doesn't quite nail the nonchalance as is required of the situation. Instead, he gives off an cool, ignorant air, not that of authority.
"What are you kids doing out here?" He asks, a little too comfortably. They look around at each other, and then back at the two of you, obviously confused by Jacob's reaction.
"We're patrolling." Says the smaller girl, in a bit too of a protective stance. Her shoulders are square, and her long blonde stringy hair curls down to her elbows. Her eyebrows are set, as if trying not to convert any emotion, but coming off as aggressive.
"We could ask you the same question." The strong, in charge voice traces back to the taller girl. She has broad shoulders as well and means business, from the look of her. Her dirty blonde hair is more straight, and cascades down to her waste. It looks as though it hasn't been brushed in days, and a few tight braids can be found among the locks. Her stance is more aggressive than the other girl. The two other kids stand there uselessly.
"You're not going to find anything out in these parts. We've been scouring the area for hours." Jacob says cooly, examining his fingernails. He acts as though he's making small talk on a walking trail.
"Who do you work for, old man?" The bigger girl says. She readjusts her weapon, but does not lower it from her target; which happens to be your head. You wonder whats gotten her so riled up.
"Depends," Jacob says. "Who do YOU work for."
"Substratum, second in command of the head firing squad, sir." Says the boy, coming to a salute. You can tell that both of the girls would have preferred that he had kept his mouth shut.
"Aren't you a little young to be second in command of such a big team?" You ask, taking advantage of the lose teamwork in intimidation.
"Aren't you a little old to be this far away from the hospital tent?" The smaller girl retorts. She cocks her head at you, challengingly.
You give her a look and correct your posture, trying to seem superior in any way to gain control of the situation.
"I'll have you know, I'm a young and healthy 57." You huff, puffing out your chest a little in an attempt at regaining respect. You're answered by a couple of giggles, one coming from the boy.
"What's your name, son?" You ask, furious at his feminine behavior.
"Michael Andrews, sir." He answers, trying to compose himself.
"Humph." You notice the shorter girl trying to redirect her gaze anywhere but on your face. You sense weakness in this and make an immediate move to call her out on it.
"And you!" You say, pointing a wrinkled finger right at her face. "Whats your name!"
"Raven Malone." She mumbles. You catch her blush and she looks away. There's something that she obviously thinks you know about her that links to her name. You find this extremely disrespectful.
"Look me in the eye when you speak, Malone!" You shout. You don't connect the name with anything, although you feel like you should. This frustrates you, feeling inferior to her knowledge on the situation.
"Alright, Tom, I think that's quite enough." Jacob says, stepping in front of you and putting a hand on your chest. You take the hint, and back off the girl. No matter how angry you are, Jacob's touch seems to leach any hostility from your consciousness.
"Like I was saying." Jacob redirects. "There isn't anything around here for miles, so you kids better just go on home." The kids take immediate offense, obviously trying to convey that they can do perfectly well without Jacob's 'helpful suggestions'.
"We're not going anywhere, thanks." The bigger girl says. Jacob raises an eyebrow at her. She doesn't back off.
"Kinsey Malone," She introduces herself without any invitation, trying to infer that she has the control of the situation, reminding you that she has a loaded gun in her arms.
"No relation?" Jacob asks, catching the similar last names.
"Actually, we're sisters." She answers.
"Family business?" You guess.
"Oh, no relation whatsoever between the rest of us." Michael pipes up, a little embarrassed. You see a hint of a blush dusting his cheeks, and the embarrassment of the other girls is extremely prominent.
"I see." Jacob raises a suggestive eyebrow at you.
You catch the hidden meaning at this gesture, and sneer a bit. Now you've got the dirt you need to rain this party back in.
"Alright, lover boy. We'll just be on our way then. Have fun." You wink at him, and both of the girls shoots you disgusted looks. This satisfies you for some reason, and you turn to leave with Jacob.
That's when you hear it.
The low moan reaches your ears and you turn back to the group, on the alert.
"What was that?" You whisper urgently, as if whispering will help in your hiding from anything that has the sense of smell of three of you combined.
"Oh, not this again." You catch Jacob rolling his eyes. He rakes a shaky hand through whats left of his hair, a familiar gesture.
"No, no. I heard it too." Says the small girl, Raven, you think she was called. You are reassured that you weren't the only one who picked up on the small noises. The group stops to listen, and you hear it again.
"I heard it that time." Kinsey reports. The whole group now stands frozen, listening for any more signs of an oncoming horde. "I'll go take a look." She suggests, turning and disappearing into the woods in the direction where the noises were heard. The awkward group stands there while the girl is absent, stealing glances at each other, trying to get a read on one another. Then, moments later, Kinsey bursts back through the shrubbery, wide eyed and out of breath. One word escapes her mouth before all hell breaks loose:
"Horde,"
Chaos explodes from that moment forth, and the horde bursts through the wall of vegetation, moaning and gurgling at each other, eager to get ahold of the living. Rounds of rifle shots fire at the mass of decomposing bodies, the violence originating from the kids. Your jaw goes slack, your feeble expectations for their capabilities in the field of combat exceeded beyond your expectation.
Half of the horde has already been cut down by the time that you feel the need to join the fight. You keep no track of Jacob during this period of time, immediately regretting it. As soon as you pick up your preferred tool, you take a look around you, seeing that Jacob is nowhere in sight. Panic and adrenaline pulses through you, and you race from the meadow, dropping your weapon in your haste. Urgency claws at the back of your throat, and you feel childish for automatically assuming the worst. You instantly push away the regret and focus on the task at hand.
"Jacob!" You are almost certain your voice breaks as you scream the name of your only friend. You cant bare the thought of loosing him for good. Something taints the strong and in-charge tone you were aiming for; could it be pain? Panic, it must be some sort of weakness that you are not accustomed to feeling. "Jacob!"
You're startled as something small smacks into the small of your back, and you almost yelp in surprise, just previously being in such an intense state of mind.
"What are you doing here?" You bark defensively, turning to find the girl from the meadow. You compose your face, unsure of how successful you are at masking your thoughts; they tend to show themselves a little more clearly than you prefer at times like these, when your guard is down. It doesn't matter much to you at the moment anyway.
"I'm helping you find him."She says, looking up at you. Her expression is determined, but you can tell that your attitude isn't giving her anymore reason to stay. You decide her help is better than no help at all.
"Oh." You can find no appropriate way to show her your appreciation.
"Jacob!" She turns away and belts, after the two of you had concluded you uncomfortable silence. You've never heard something so big come out of someone so small. You look at her in surprise, if not a little bit impressed.
"Whats your name again?" You ask.
"Raven. Yours?"
"Tom." You reach out to shake her hand, which is surprisingly soft, considering the way she was handling that gun.
"Right." She says. After that, you don't speak to one another for a while. The two of you call out Jacob's name until it doesn't even seem like it belongs to anyone anymore.
It is only when you feel the slap on your shoulder when you see the trail of blood.
Something similar to pain makes your blood run cold and brings a sullen expression to your wrinkled features. Raven points to the smudge of sticky crimson with a grim look on her face; lips pulled thin and jaw set. Your eyes follow the stains until the path is obscured by a patch of bushes. You push your way through the shrubbery, a little too roughly, and collect many scrapes from antagonizing thorns.
You knew you would find it before the scene greets you, but, somehow, you are still surprised--or something or another; you aren't very good at identifying emotions, even if they are your own. You barely have the sense to catch a strangled moan of desperation escape your lips. You already red eyes land on Jacob--poor, poor Jacob-- and a gruesome scene is registered. Half of his torso is missing and several chunks have been taken out of his left leg. There are scratches covering his right arm. You clasp a hand tightly over your mouth to keep from anymore unwelcome signs of weakness.
You fall to Jacob's side on your knees, and take his hand in yours. You are hardly unsettled by the vacant, but somehow urgent, look that haunts his eyes as his stare bores into you. For a few moments, you just sit in silence and watch small little snowflakes land on Jacob's dangerously pale skin. You give Jacob a small, reassuring smile. You cannot let you last few minutes with him be wasted. No, you will make sure Jacob leaves this world with a happy heart, if it kills you.
You whisper small and hardly plausible reassurances in his ear as you try to figure out a way to make his passing any less painful than you're afraid it's going to be. To no avail. Every time your skin grazes Jacob's he lets out a howl of pain; a yell that sends empathy to a whole new level. Not only do you feel for him, you feel pain for him. Both physical and emotional. You wince every time he takes in a shaky breath.
You feel totally and utterly helpless. Your gaze lingers on Jacob, but you eventually pull your eyes away from him to send a look to Raven. You aren't sure what emotion exactly displays itself on your features, but from Raven's reaction, you can infer that you look absolutely pitiful. She opens her mouth and lifts an arm, as if about to speak some word of encouragement or to try and aid in Jacob's comforting, but she falls speechless and she lets her limp limb fall back to her side.
You take a seat beside Jacob's head and take his hands in yours, rubbing distracting little patterns onto his cold skin; but distracting for whom exactly, you do not know. You let comforting words spill from your lips as you lean towards Jacob's face. You want to be absolutely sure that your friend leaves this world knowing how important he is in every single aspect of your life. You let words tumble into the space between you, not caring whether or not anyone else present can hear your heart put into sentences. Jacob's mouth is slightly parted, as if to respond, but he doesn't speak, whether it is because you give him no chance to say a word, or because he just simply can't.
Then, suddenly and surprisingly uneventfully, Jacob's eyelids fall closed. You fall silent, more words getting stuck in your throat. You stand, and leave the scene, unaware of anything that happens after that moment.
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