So this was what a sack of potatoes felt like. Except the part where you got all kinds of bruises in the future on top of all the bouncing, and loaded with heaps of indignity for good measure.
Daniel didn't even have time to muster up any kind of retort or feel offended at being called a sniffly white ass; the Tribute's foot caught on something just then. Everything seemed to slow down to a terrifyingly crawl. The Tribute went down. Daniel could feel right when he'd lost his grip. Then Daniel himself was flying through the air, his stomach joining his heart in its mad scramble upwards. He impacted hard on one of the concrete barriers, sliding down to land heavily on the ground.
For a moment, he could only sit there, trying to suck in air to replace what had been knocked out of him. An arm lifted out of habit, how bad had he been hurt? Cracked ribs, dislocated shoulder? He was in a world of trouble if he'd been seriously injured so early. The Discovery Channel came to mind then, and those gazelles; the sick ones that couldn't keep up with the mad dash the rest of the herd made when a cheetah or lion cropped up.
No, he was okay. He was fine. Bruised and winded but in one piece. Daniel lifted his head. The other Tribute's face was a mess. Half of it looked like he'd been through a meat grinder, Daniel thought. That and the despair were a souvenir from the Cornucopia. Daniel's eyes drifted to take in what he had turned from. The bloodbath was dying down, namely because all the supplies are gone. Some still fought. The rest had scattered. Several bodies lay very still.
It took him a moment to realize that the other Tribute had a hand held out to him. It seemed the other Tribute didn't have any plans at the moment to kill him, and Daniel was going to take it for what it was. If there was at least another person who wanted to stop the fighting now, there had to be some hope left.
Daniel clasped his hand and staggered up. wincing at the strain it placed on his bruised side. "...What?" Breezy- Oh. "Er, yes, I'm fine. But you're not; we need to take care of your wounds."
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
Daniel didn't even have time to muster up any kind of retort or feel offended at being called a sniffly white ass; the Tribute's foot caught on something just then. Everything seemed to slow down to a terrifyingly crawl. The Tribute went down. Daniel could feel right when he'd lost his grip. Then Daniel himself was flying through the air, his stomach joining his heart in its mad scramble upwards. He impacted hard on one of the concrete barriers, sliding down to land heavily on the ground.
For a moment, he could only sit there, trying to suck in air to replace what had been knocked out of him. An arm lifted out of habit, how bad had he been hurt? Cracked ribs, dislocated shoulder? He was in a world of trouble if he'd been seriously injured so early. The Discovery Channel came to mind then, and those gazelles; the sick ones that couldn't keep up with the mad dash the rest of the herd made when a cheetah or lion cropped up.
No, he was okay. He was fine. Bruised and winded but in one piece. Daniel lifted his head. The other Tribute's face was a mess. Half of it looked like he'd been through a meat grinder, Daniel thought. That and the despair were a souvenir from the Cornucopia. Daniel's eyes drifted to take in what he had turned from. The bloodbath was dying down, namely because all the supplies are gone. Some still fought. The rest had scattered. Several bodies lay very still.
It took him a moment to realize that the other Tribute had a hand held out to him. It seemed the other Tribute didn't have any plans at the moment to kill him, and Daniel was going to take it for what it was. If there was at least another person who wanted to stop the fighting now, there had to be some hope left.
Daniel clasped his hand and staggered up. wincing at the strain it placed on his bruised side. "...What?" Breezy- Oh. "Er, yes, I'm fine. But you're not; we need to take care of your wounds."