Deep in the meadow, under the willow...

[etcircenses]

Who| All those on the liberation mission and all those being made to fight against them.
What| The liberation of District 12.
Where| District 12.
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.

It doesn't take long to get to District 12, the closest district to the rebel district. It's one of the smallest districts, and you only know you reach it when rolling hills grow and grow until they become large, fertile green mountains. The environment looks green and lush, beautiful, really--That is, until you reach the part of the District where people actually live. The weather is chillier than the Capitol, though the wind bares the worst of it. Anyone planning on spending any time outside should definitely get a coat.

The town is smaller than any of the others, and more worn down. Everything seems to have a thin layer of cole settled over it, no matter how much cleaning is done. The center of the town isn't too shabby, and there are a few things that stand new and shining--A metal whipping post and stocks. The latter occasionally has an unfortunate person in it, though most people have learned to buckle down and accept the new rules.

In the merchant part of town, there's some signs of wildlife, knobby trees and green enough yards. The merchants used to ply their trades here, though for now, everything's locked down. As you get farther, it gets shabbier, poorer. Into the Seam, where the poorest of the poor live. Here, the houses are barely more than shacks. Trees grow wild, and what animal life exists is quick to run from any humans, no doubt having survived at least one attempt by the people of the Seam to capture them for the supper pot.

One thing in common with all the sections of the District is a feeling of hopelessness. The mood is dour, as heavy and permanent as the cole dust that seeps into everything. The only sign of anything even resembling any rebellion is a few chalk scratchings on the sides of abandoned buildings, a few zodiac symbols--Anyone who knows the trolls can recognize the symbols of Karkat, Terezi, Psiioniic, and even the Initiate. That, and the grand pictures of Sam Wilson and Joan Watson, and the bold words stating NOT ALONE and WE ALL DESERVE BETTER.

The war continues, and in the back of everyone's mind is a familiar phrase; may the odds be ever in your favor.

Comments

[carnagecarnival]

He gives enough pace, enough space and time to let them believe, let them be motherfucking lulled into thinking they know what he's thinking at and where he's being to go. It's whip-fast sudden that he turns from Jet and his tugging taunts, charging fast at Albert then and grasping at that front, shot or no.

With a quick heave, he throws Albert back, sending him on and off to fly in the crumbling ruin of what once may have been a home. If there ain't no crash then he'll be all kinds of disappointed. He needs the ruin to roar for him, just as he used to need his enemies to sing.

Now, he runs back to Jet, giving little time for shock as he swings his weapon, aiming high for the head. His eyes are wide with the need to hurt.

[silberfuchs]

It was a rudimentary plan at best, but Albert had thought they could divide Initiate's attention, keep him reeling from one threat to the other. Instead he finds he'd underestimated the Troll's speed - or overestimated his own - and instead he's sent careening into another building despite his being able to snap off another two shots before he was grabbed.

The building doesn't come down, not entirely, but there's a keening groan and great clouds of dust that move like an angry exhale out of each window, the second floor having collapsed down to the first and taking Albert's body with it.

He's not dead, thank whatever higher power made that possible, but he is immobile at least for the moment, struggling to unbury himself from the debris and deal with exposed wires and servos from his right leg. Jet's on his own for the moment, and the thought makes Albert try and push himself.

[metalicarus]

Jet watched in horror as Initiate grabbed Albert and tossed him into a building. Were they their old selves, Jet would have simply felt bad for the building, but a large chunk of his husband was still human and that sent terrified ice through his veins. It was quickly swept away by a spark of fire that caught quickly.

It took everything in him not to unleash his fury on Initiate, the knowledge he could lose his brother and his partner if he didn't play his cards right tamped down on that vengeant rage and allowed some semblance of reason. They couldn't do anything here, not alone, not without their powers to combat the natural strength of trolls.

Initiate brought his club up to aim for Jet's head, leaving him little time to react. He threw his arm up on instinct and ducked, the club catching his all too human arm and ripping it up, but he didn't feel it, even the glancing blow was strong enough to instantly numb his arm. It was fine, he didn't need his arm to run.

He dashed, fast as he could, for the building without another glance at Initiate and dove behind the rubble while he searched for his husband. Hopefully it would provide enough cover to allow them an escape. And hopefully...Albert was still capable of escaping.

[carnagecarnival]

It's not Jet's head but the vibration of impact is something. The blood so bright he gets up off it is even motherfucking more, like just the sight is enough to quench a thirst not all so different from rainbowdrinkers.

Between the injury and the rage, the Initiate lights in a twisted form of delight. He almost laughs. But then the motherfucker's got at all to be ruining it all, dashing off quick.

He unleashes a near-silent snarl of frustration before going to follow after, determined to cull his prey.

[silberfuchs]

It's not long before Jet gets to him, Albert coughing and trying to push his way out of the dirt and rubble. In this situation he doesn't fuss, doesn't mother hen over Jet's injured arm though he does file that away for something to take care of later. Like his leg, sparking at the knee as it is, the falling bits of ceiling not only having taken out half his pant leg but the metal underneath as well, puncturing the casing and oozing some sort of fluid. He hopes abstractly that it's not flammable, considering the way his knee is giving off sparks.

Thank goodness he can't feel it.

"We need to get away. We can't take him like this." The civilians are all out of the area now anyway, as are the ally soldiers who could have potentially become targets. He hates to leave Kurloz in this state, knows they both hate it, but they'll all hate more if they died to the hands of a friend in the throes of grief.

He finally gets the last large piece of debris off of him and pushes to try and stand, staggering as he can't place any weight on his malfunctioning leg. "Help me, quick."

[metalicarus]

The words are barely out of Albert's mouth when Jet's already got his arm around Albert's waist. "Don't walk on it, use me." He'd had enough injured legs to know the impossibility of using one. It would be simpler if Jet could just carry Albert, but he didn't trust his human muscles to withstand the strain long enough to get them to safety; his husband wasn't 400 pounds anymore, but he was still heavy and they needed to go, Jet could at least support Albert's weight on that side.

As soon as he had a secure hold on his partner, he led them out of the wreckage as quickly as they could, eyes staying focused on out rather than the potential rampage at their backs should they be spotted. He couldn't afford to look back and hope for the best.

Gonna cut in then Initiate can see they're gone and wrap?

[silberfuchs]

With a nod, Albert does just that, leaning on the blond perhaps more heavily than he intends, but still enough that they can get moving. They have to, quickly, or the monster that had once been their friend will find them again, and this time there would be no escape, just smears of red on cracked pavement.

Luckily, they're used to this sort of quick and injured escape and it doesn't take long for the pair to lose themselves in what's left of the District. Later, they'll be able to circle back and find medical attention from their allies, but for now escape is foremost on both of their minds. They need to disappear.

And so they do.

wrap

[carnagecarnival]

Holes and holes and holes run him through. Holes in his body and holes in his pan and heart. Motherfuckers be slipping as like through holes in his motherfucking hands. He charges into that ruinous building and they ain't there. They ain't motherfucking there. He's got nothing nothing nothing. He's got ragged breath all growled punctured.

He tries to scream. It comes out like more strangled breath and his claws rake on stone.

He leaves the building and it crumbles down.