pix-e
pixie princess <3
Mercy Cartwright.
The second Mercy sat back on his heels was the second everything happened. If timing was everything, his was terrible. Possibly the worst. He felt stuck in time as he watched initiates went for each others throats, deafening yells filling the air. Somehow, it quickly became background noise, similar to when thunder and lightning cause you to jump at first crack and then become white-noise for the rest of the night. His gaze settled on the instructors. That's where all the important action was(though, of course, he occasionally swept a look across the floor in an attempt to make sure that no one slipped through the cracks and got stepped on). The instructors were where he would learn the most. He watched, half in awe and half in a muted horror as Charlie threw herself at Ghost and ultimately got her ass kicked. She put up a bit of a fight— he was surprised when she started whacking at Ghost with a staff with only one hand. She got knocked down and got up again. So resilient... And then she leapt into Ghost's arms and died.
That was his cue! As Ghost rolled Charlie off of him and got up to fight, Mercy rose to his own feet, scrambling to get through the battlefield to get to her before she got trampled. He ducked, bobbed, and weaved, some might even say he danced around. He slid carefully between groups of initiates, trying his hardest to not get fake-decapitated as many weapons came flying in his direction. Eventually, he got to her. The teenage boy knelt down to check her for any real injuries, making sure that moving her wouldn't cause more damage, and hooked his hands underneath her armpits to carry her off in a moment's notice. There was a moment in which he found himself taking in her face more so than the rest of her.
So pre— JESUS CHRIST! His internal monologue was shattered when a booted heel clicked with his own(and wished for home), causing Harper Day to come crashing down upon both the unconscious, real medic and the [temporarily?] conscious, pretend medic. He scrambled to his feet and out of the way, hoisting Charlie up with him in order to keep her from being fallen upon and sustaining any further injury. Not that Harper's fall would cause any more injury than a few bruises, but, he was given a job and he was gonna do it well. Even if Charlie would never know the difference. He looked up wildly to see who had so carelessly tried to kill him. Okay. Kill was dramatic, but he could have split his chin open. Or... I don't know. Bonk heads with Charlie hard enough that one of them needed stitches. There's also no way that this floor was accident proof. His deep brown eyes found Ghost's own, soulless ones. Gritting his teeth and mustering no more than a glare, he turned away sharply.
He let Charlie down for a brief moment to readjust his hold on her, this time carrying her bridal style in his arms. The girl— er, woman, she was older than him— couldn't have weighed much more than one hundred pounds. It was no problem. He tiptoed his way carefully back through the battlefield, this time with much more attitude and less care for the initiates fighting around him. He grumbled out a few "Coming through! Right behind you, on your left..."s on his way by. As soon as Charlie was situated on her cot, it seemed, there was another body for him to retrieve. Namely, Ghost's.
Mercy sat for a moment on the edge of Charlie's bed, his eyes on the instructor's "lifeless" body. He looked so peaceful when he was dead. Well. Fake dead. There was no snarl on his face or evil glint in his eye. They were glassy and still. He'd never noticed how tired Ghost looked when he was awake. Even unconscious dark circle plagued his eyes, like he was permanently sick. And unconscious, there was no smart remark to come out and bite anyone. In fact, his lips were only slightly parted. And very, very chapped. Jeez, had that dude ever heard of lip balm with SPF? He contemplated leaving him there to get stepped on and maybe stabbed again. It could be fun. Maybe Ghost would learn something if he had a few fingers accidentally broken under the heavy boots of others. Mercy was sure he'd done the same to others. Or maybe he'd done it with his cane. But it didn't matter, he definitely stepped on people, probably both physically and metaphorically... But no. He couldn't leave the instructor there. He'd probably look worse than he already did if he sat around and left him.
With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself back to his feet and quickly made his way towards Ghost making awkward nods and half-hearted eye-contact with those around him to hopefully prevent getting tripped over again. Was white really the best color for this damned pinnie? He felt like he blent into the masses just as much as he would if he were fighting amongst them. Was Dauntless out of safety orange? He knelt done next to Ghost and carried him too bridal style. He was a bit heavier than Charlie, perhaps fifteen to twenty pounds, and a bit taller. But he was still smaller than Mercy, who had spent most of his childhood lugging around farm equipment that probably weighed more than Ghost did. Honestly, he'd expected the older man to be heavier. All those bones had to weigh something. But he guessed he looked twenty pounds soaking wet and felt it too.
As he carried Ghost back, his eye caught Charlie stirring and Thorn also dead in his hiding spot. Sigh. Guess he had another stop to make before Charlie was back in working order. He dropped Ghost off into an empty cot(much more haphazardly than he had situated Charlie) and sulked off to go grab Thorn. The smaller boy was curled up like he had been in a lot of pain before he blacked out. A true frown fell onto Mercy's face. He had begrudgingly taken this job, pissed that he'd been taken out of the fights. But, after seeing Thorn, maybe he was spared. Pins and needles shot down his arms as he thought about it, about the sickening pain some people might be enduring— they were dying, and no one could see it. He scooped up Thorn and carried him back to safety. When announced, this had felt a lot like the physical trials of Phase One. But now, Mercy understood, this was more about the same mental strength that they were trying to face in Phase Two. They were being traumatized right now. The only person who might be okay would be him and whoever made it out on top.
The boy gently laid his fellow initiate down on a cot and glanced around. No one else had fallen yet. Charlie was now awake, as was Ghost. And, well, Ghost... Mercy was sure he'd glanced over both of them, making sure there were no real injuries. Both of the adults had nothing more than a few bumps and bruises that would heal in a few days time. All the weapons were fake, they didn't really have any run-ins with their fists. They were fine. But Ghost looked. Well. Like a Ghost. He seemed paler than before. His legs seemed unsteady. And he was clutching that damned handkerchief...
He hastily gave Thorn a once over, confirming that he too had no more than some bruises from his fight before snagging some things from the first aid kit and hustling off after Ghost. He was the medic for now, and he was going to do his job right. And that meant taking care of anyone unwell. Especially if they looked like they might pass out at any second and split their head on the concrete floors of the compound. He practically chased Ghost down at an alarmingly fast power-walk that all suburban moms would be jealous of. Jesus. How was Ghost so fast? He had a cane for Christ's sake. Luckily, the journey was only to the bathroom. Well. Only lucky because that meant no more chasing and feeling too creepy. It was less lucky because if Ghost really was about to pass out, he could hit his head on a porcelain toilet and possibly do more damage than the floor would. Not long after Ghost had shut the bathroom door, Mercy swung it back open with scarlet ears. He'd caught Ghost off-guard.
He sucked in a breath to speak. He paused. He didn't really think this part through. There wasn't a lot to say. "You're sick." He said finally, wanting to say something before the other had the chance to. His shoulders slumped, half in relief and half in defeat. What in the world was he doing? He didn't know. He was just... doing. He kept is gaze steady and slowly approached him, the door slow-closing behind him thanks to the specially adjusted hinges that most bathroom doors had. "You're sick and you should be fine, which means it's not from the simulation... Is it?" He let his eyes take Ghost in all the way. Had he always looked this frail? This hollow? He pulled the bandages and other such things that he'd grabbed on his way out the door and rested them gingerly on the lip of the closest sink. He wished he'd grabbed a stethoscope or something much more helpful. Like a knife, in case this swan of a human being decided to attack him. Just in case, he kept himself angled in a way that kept the door inconvenient for Ghost to get to and kept Ghost in Mercy's gaze. He was also prepared to scream like a little girl if anything happened. Like Harper said. We're Dauntless and we play dirty... right?
That was his cue! As Ghost rolled Charlie off of him and got up to fight, Mercy rose to his own feet, scrambling to get through the battlefield to get to her before she got trampled. He ducked, bobbed, and weaved, some might even say he danced around. He slid carefully between groups of initiates, trying his hardest to not get fake-decapitated as many weapons came flying in his direction. Eventually, he got to her. The teenage boy knelt down to check her for any real injuries, making sure that moving her wouldn't cause more damage, and hooked his hands underneath her armpits to carry her off in a moment's notice. There was a moment in which he found himself taking in her face more so than the rest of her.
So pre— JESUS CHRIST! His internal monologue was shattered when a booted heel clicked with his own(and wished for home), causing Harper Day to come crashing down upon both the unconscious, real medic and the [temporarily?] conscious, pretend medic. He scrambled to his feet and out of the way, hoisting Charlie up with him in order to keep her from being fallen upon and sustaining any further injury. Not that Harper's fall would cause any more injury than a few bruises, but, he was given a job and he was gonna do it well. Even if Charlie would never know the difference. He looked up wildly to see who had so carelessly tried to kill him. Okay. Kill was dramatic, but he could have split his chin open. Or... I don't know. Bonk heads with Charlie hard enough that one of them needed stitches. There's also no way that this floor was accident proof. His deep brown eyes found Ghost's own, soulless ones. Gritting his teeth and mustering no more than a glare, he turned away sharply.
He let Charlie down for a brief moment to readjust his hold on her, this time carrying her bridal style in his arms. The girl— er, woman, she was older than him— couldn't have weighed much more than one hundred pounds. It was no problem. He tiptoed his way carefully back through the battlefield, this time with much more attitude and less care for the initiates fighting around him. He grumbled out a few "Coming through! Right behind you, on your left..."s on his way by. As soon as Charlie was situated on her cot, it seemed, there was another body for him to retrieve. Namely, Ghost's.
Mercy sat for a moment on the edge of Charlie's bed, his eyes on the instructor's "lifeless" body. He looked so peaceful when he was dead. Well. Fake dead. There was no snarl on his face or evil glint in his eye. They were glassy and still. He'd never noticed how tired Ghost looked when he was awake. Even unconscious dark circle plagued his eyes, like he was permanently sick. And unconscious, there was no smart remark to come out and bite anyone. In fact, his lips were only slightly parted. And very, very chapped. Jeez, had that dude ever heard of lip balm with SPF? He contemplated leaving him there to get stepped on and maybe stabbed again. It could be fun. Maybe Ghost would learn something if he had a few fingers accidentally broken under the heavy boots of others. Mercy was sure he'd done the same to others. Or maybe he'd done it with his cane. But it didn't matter, he definitely stepped on people, probably both physically and metaphorically... But no. He couldn't leave the instructor there. He'd probably look worse than he already did if he sat around and left him.
With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself back to his feet and quickly made his way towards Ghost making awkward nods and half-hearted eye-contact with those around him to hopefully prevent getting tripped over again. Was white really the best color for this damned pinnie? He felt like he blent into the masses just as much as he would if he were fighting amongst them. Was Dauntless out of safety orange? He knelt done next to Ghost and carried him too bridal style. He was a bit heavier than Charlie, perhaps fifteen to twenty pounds, and a bit taller. But he was still smaller than Mercy, who had spent most of his childhood lugging around farm equipment that probably weighed more than Ghost did. Honestly, he'd expected the older man to be heavier. All those bones had to weigh something. But he guessed he looked twenty pounds soaking wet and felt it too.
As he carried Ghost back, his eye caught Charlie stirring and Thorn also dead in his hiding spot. Sigh. Guess he had another stop to make before Charlie was back in working order. He dropped Ghost off into an empty cot(much more haphazardly than he had situated Charlie) and sulked off to go grab Thorn. The smaller boy was curled up like he had been in a lot of pain before he blacked out. A true frown fell onto Mercy's face. He had begrudgingly taken this job, pissed that he'd been taken out of the fights. But, after seeing Thorn, maybe he was spared. Pins and needles shot down his arms as he thought about it, about the sickening pain some people might be enduring— they were dying, and no one could see it. He scooped up Thorn and carried him back to safety. When announced, this had felt a lot like the physical trials of Phase One. But now, Mercy understood, this was more about the same mental strength that they were trying to face in Phase Two. They were being traumatized right now. The only person who might be okay would be him and whoever made it out on top.
The boy gently laid his fellow initiate down on a cot and glanced around. No one else had fallen yet. Charlie was now awake, as was Ghost. And, well, Ghost... Mercy was sure he'd glanced over both of them, making sure there were no real injuries. Both of the adults had nothing more than a few bumps and bruises that would heal in a few days time. All the weapons were fake, they didn't really have any run-ins with their fists. They were fine. But Ghost looked. Well. Like a Ghost. He seemed paler than before. His legs seemed unsteady. And he was clutching that damned handkerchief...
He hastily gave Thorn a once over, confirming that he too had no more than some bruises from his fight before snagging some things from the first aid kit and hustling off after Ghost. He was the medic for now, and he was going to do his job right. And that meant taking care of anyone unwell. Especially if they looked like they might pass out at any second and split their head on the concrete floors of the compound. He practically chased Ghost down at an alarmingly fast power-walk that all suburban moms would be jealous of. Jesus. How was Ghost so fast? He had a cane for Christ's sake. Luckily, the journey was only to the bathroom. Well. Only lucky because that meant no more chasing and feeling too creepy. It was less lucky because if Ghost really was about to pass out, he could hit his head on a porcelain toilet and possibly do more damage than the floor would. Not long after Ghost had shut the bathroom door, Mercy swung it back open with scarlet ears. He'd caught Ghost off-guard.
He sucked in a breath to speak. He paused. He didn't really think this part through. There wasn't a lot to say. "You're sick." He said finally, wanting to say something before the other had the chance to. His shoulders slumped, half in relief and half in defeat. What in the world was he doing? He didn't know. He was just... doing. He kept is gaze steady and slowly approached him, the door slow-closing behind him thanks to the specially adjusted hinges that most bathroom doors had. "You're sick and you should be fine, which means it's not from the simulation... Is it?" He let his eyes take Ghost in all the way. Had he always looked this frail? This hollow? He pulled the bandages and other such things that he'd grabbed on his way out the door and rested them gingerly on the lip of the closest sink. He wished he'd grabbed a stethoscope or something much more helpful. Like a knife, in case this swan of a human being decided to attack him. Just in case, he kept himself angled in a way that kept the door inconvenient for Ghost to get to and kept Ghost in Mercy's gaze. He was also prepared to scream like a little girl if anything happened. Like Harper said. We're Dauntless and we play dirty... right?
pissed
testing center
nine lives