The Time Before

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by AcornTree, Aug 17, 2015.

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  1. It was hot. Or, more than likely, it was cool but Wendall felt hot. The sticky crimson blood he was trying to contain was pouring out of his stomach faster than he felt was strictly necessary. Despite the severity of the wound he seemed more annoyed than anything else. Wendall kept one hand pushed strongly against his abdomen as he crouched down to move across the darkened field. Night had just set in, and the people after him knew they had him on the run. Wendall figured his only hope would be to get to the private property on the other side of the field and then hide behind the fence a ways. Whoever lived there likely wouldn’t even notice, and the guys after him would never expect for him to hide there anyway.

    Wendall frequented the city and had been to the outskirts several times. It was the only reason he knew that the property he was heading towards was there in the first place. He had observed before that it didn’t seem to be very busy, although it was kept in good condition so there had to be at least some people about. He didn’t see anyone now though, and he could hear the people behind him catching up. He dove behind the bushes up against the high fence depicting the outline of the property. Wendall bit his lip hard enough to draw blood in an effort to not make a sound to give away his location. He turned towards the fence and squinted down at the cuff on his wrist. It was leather and metal and carefully he pressed a few buttons. Silent as the grave, the bars of the fence weakened and Wendall pulled them apart just enough for him to squeeze through. He turned again to push the bars back into place just as they solidified.

    He took just a moment to close his eyes and take in a deep breath. But he couldn’t stay here. If he was, by chance, spotted through the fence that would hardly stop a bullet between the bars. His eyes flickering open again, he looked across the land. He could see the dark, dim outline of a house and a few trees against an inky sky. Deciding the house was too risky, he moved himself as quickly as he could to the nearest large grouping of trees and bushes. There he pulled himself into the foliage and focused just for a moment on breathing.

    Taking one last deep breath and then swallowing hard he looked down at his stomach. Even in the dark he could tell that the amount of blood he was losing wasn’t good. He would need to find a doctor, but going to the hospital was also too risky. He would have liked to take that moment to simply get himself back into his own time. At least they weren’t quite on to him there as much as they were here currently. His chance at getting back was shot though. Something had gone wrong traveling here, and when he had tried to get back earlier the time traveling cuff had shot sparks and fizzled out. The other features worked at varying degrees of efficiency. The bars hadn’t melted earlier, but they had at least gotten soft enough to bend, for instance.

    Long, nimble fingers quickly worked at the buttons of his shirt. It had once been a light blue but was now mostly saturated with red. Pushing the fabric aside along with the suspenders still attached to his trousers, he attempted to struggle out of his shirt completely. He was intending on using the fabric to staunch the bleeding, but found that he couldn’t quite get out of his shirt on his own. Frustrated, he ran the fingers of one hand through his dark, almost blue-black hair, slicking his bangs back out of his long, angular face and then running them all the way down to the nape of his neck before back and around to his chest.

    Wendall would have liked to simply stay there all night, but he didn’t think his injury would allow that. He would stay just long enough that the people after him would be gone, and then he would sneak back out through the fence and back towards town. That was the plan, at any rate. It was simply not to be, because before Wendall knew it his eyes were closed without his bidding and he was simply lost to the world. The whole of the German army could be marching towards him and he would likely never know it.
    #1 AcornTree, Aug 17, 2015
    Last edited by a moderator: Sep 14, 2015
  2. The houses in the town all had names and Alexandra adored it since it often reminded her of Jane Austen's novels and the wonderful names of the homes that her stories usually revolved around. Perhaps if she had a great house with lush, rolling gardens Alexandra might have been tempted to call her home Pemberly or Maple Grove, adoring the names but her home, while lovely, was fairly plain, given her resources and finances. Given it had been part of her inheritance, Alexandra had not felt it right to change the name of the home that her grandmother had lived nearly all her adult life in and so the brunette had left the name alone, allowing the half century old home to keep its original name of Winterhaven.

    She was rather lucky, Alexandra supposed. The home was situated far away from society that she didn't feel the pressure or whispers of people trying to interfere in her business but she wasn't too far out where she would be isolated and it suited the young woman just fine. People might have found it strange that a young woman would choose to lock herself away, shunning society and all its offerings and traps but Alexandra didn't think she would feel the loss. In fact, she quite relished her reclusive ways and on the off chance that she did feel claustrophobic, the house came with a large enough yard with its high hedges that still maintained the privacy that she craved.

    Today was no different. Alexandra had been feeling oddly restless all evening, a clear sign that her self imposed isolation was wearing down on her. She had waited until it was late enough before stepping out, taking a seat on the back porch and relishing the cool night, the wind ruffling her hair. She closed her eyes, tipping her face up towards the moon. Deep down, she did miss civilization. She missed being able to go to the shops, missed stopping by the bookstore or an ice cream shop. missed going out to the beach whenever the mood struck her but that wasn't something she could afford to do, not when she was trying to keep an extremely low profile.

    Although she had been deep in thought, the rustle of the bushes caught her attention and immediately Alexandra sprang to her feet, grabbing the heavy duty flashlight. The flashlight worked for two reasons - one, it provided her with the necessary light and two, it was heavy and durable which Alexandra thought made it a viable weapon if the worst came to it. "Hello?" She called before chiding herself. If someone was out there and not meant to be, it was unlikely they would reply.

    The smart option would have been to run back to the house and perhaps call the neighborhood patrol but that would draw attention to herself as well as having to interact with more people than Alexandra thought she was mentally prepared for. With some reluctance, she slowly made her way to the blueberry bushes halfway across the garden. The flashlight was in her hand, ready for her to swing if someone tried to jump out at her but she supposed what she saw was probably just as unexpected.

    "Ah hell." She cursed. There was a man passed out behind the bushes and given his state - particularly the shirt that was darkened with blood, that much was obvious, he had been attacked. Any sane person would have headed to a hospital or a clinic and knowing that this man had instead chosen to hide. Well, from all that television shows she watched, it usually meant that they were trying to hide. Alexandra sighed, eyeing the distance from where they were to the patio. Looks like she was in for a hell of a workout.
  3. Wendall would not wake up even despite his body being moved. His skin was paler than its usual hue from the amount of blood he had lost, but despite his ashen appearance his breathing was fairly regular. Upon closer inspection of the injury, it was pretty clear that he had been shot. He himself had a hand gun at his hip, but he was nearly out of bullets. The gun wasn't even loaded currently. The trip up to the patio wasn't going to be very fun for either of them involved.

    Out towards the front of the property where Wendall had come from was rustling and a few clinks, but no words could be heard. The modern day Nazis were snooping about, but did not come onto the property. They had determined, quite luckily, that Wendall hadn't had the strength to get through the fence. Instead they investigated around the area before moving off again, the quiet of the night folding back around Winterhaven with the immediate danger gone. There would be no more Nazis that night.

    Wendall would not open his eyes until his body had stopped being moved, and even then it would take quite a while. When he did finally flutter back into consciousness, he kept his eyes closed even still. He was being cautious, keeping his breathing around the same as he had been breathing before in order to assess his surroundings without looking like he was up. He heard movement, which meant that he wasn't alone, but he had difficulty figuring out if he was with someone who meant him harm. It was surprisingly difficult to to focus what with the pain in his stomach. He was not in tune with his environment as he usually was, but he did register that he wasn't being restrained in any way. It seemed likely that if he had been captured, he would not have had the freedom to move. This, he decided, was a good enough sign to open his eyes.

    He had no idea where he was. That was his first thought. Then he wondered how long he had been under. Really he couldn't believe he had passed out. Then again, he'd never been shot before either. Frowning, he brought a hand up to his stomach and then looked around, seeking out the person he heard while his eyes had been closed. Well... she didn't LOOK like a Nazi, but that didn't mean much.
  4. Alexandra didn't consider herself unfit - she had plenty of time on her hands to subscribe to fitness videos after all and given that she had little interests outside her home, it meant that a good chunk of time was usually devoted to such workouts but the unconscious man was practically dead weight and she had to mind his injury as she half carried, half dragged him across the moonlit gardens. She had to stop a handful of times, quietly swearing to herself as she gently laid him back down before starting up a minute or so later after she had gotten her breath and some energy back.

    Eventually she had managed to navigate not only across the yard but up the porch steps as well. She would have hoisted him onto the couch but he was too heavy and too out of it for Alexandra to request his cooperation so she had been forced to simply build a nest of blankets on the floor for him. The wound was a through and through, something Alexandra never expected she would be relieved about in her entire life. Releasing a puff of air, she scrambled to the kitchen where she knew there was a first aid kit or two.

    She couldn't save the man's shirt - not after the blood and after she had to cut his shirt open since the blood had caused his shirt to stick to the wound. She was no nurse and Alexandra suspected that it must have hurt like hell but the man was practically comatose and if not for the fact that he was still breathing and the occasional twitch, his pallor and near lack of reaction would have led her to believe he was dead.

    Taking the bloodied remains of his shirt and the odd rags, she quickly burnt them. No need for herself to get into trouble if anyone came knocking as well before heading back to the kitchen to rinse her hands. She watched as pink stained water swirled in the basin before disappearing into the depths of the drain. She stared idly at it. What had she done? What had she gotten involved in? The man was clearly trouble or he was in trouble and either way, that didn't bode well in any situation. Sighing, she supposed she would have to wait until he woke up to get some answers.
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