Post by Mathew Amtrum on Mar 17, 2009 21:46:35 GMT -5
OOC: Mathew's new theme
IC:
His head was throbbing, a small groan of pain escaped his lips as he opened his eyes. He had to blink several times, his vision blurred. Something was off, the ground was damp and soft. The feeling of grass pressing against his skin. He was outside, but he couldn't feel the sun on his skin, it was chilly and dark. That made it night time, the last thing he could remember was walking away from the riot. That was in the afternoon though.
"Get up, on your knees." A voice called out to him, one that was familiar but he couldn't place it. He felt the blow of something slamming in to his ribs when he didn't move. "I said on your knees!"
Mathew groaned again, his eyes slowly adjusting as he started to pick himself up. He saw the figure in front of him, mostly shrouded by the darkness. There was no street light nearby, only the moon offered light, and not much at that. He felt the person's hands shove him down to his knees when he started to stand. He felt cold metal press against his forehead, he heard the clicking sound as the gun was cocked. Mathew's eyes widened in fear. He knew what was going on now, he was going to die. There was no doubt in his mind, that this would be his last few moments. Kneeling in the grass, with the cold metal of a gun pressed against his forehead. Things seemed to move slowly, details seemed sharp. He felt the wind against his skin, could smell a faint smell of exhaust from it. Sirens in the background wailing as the cops went off to try and stop yet another New York crime.
The boy smirked and that is when it clicked in Mathew's head. The leader from the riot, the one that shot him earlier today. As if thinking about it reminded him about the pain he felt a dull pain in his chest. None of the bullets got through his coat, but they hurt bad. Mathew's breathing was ragged, he was panicking, he didn't want to die. He wasn't ready to die.
He didn't know what happened, his arms shot upwards, he felt the gun in his hand. His hands twisted it, the gun fired. Mathew braced himself for the feeling of the bullet ripping through his skin, nothing came though. Instead he saw a look of shock on the boy's face. A blood stain slowly growing over his chest. The kid dropped to his knees, gasping for air frantically. The gun dropped to the ground next to him before he fell dead on the grass.
Mathew woke up with a start, his hand grabbing his chest where the kid had been shot. His breathing was erratic and hurried. He was feeling a wave of panic, slowly it died down as he realized it was just a dream. He flopped back on to his sweat drenched sheets letting out a sigh of relief. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last.
Still he couldn't just ignore it and go back to bed like he normally did. The talk with Olesya was still bugging him. She thought he could change, that he could better himself. He let out a loud sigh as he rolled out of bed, wearing a pair of pajama pants and a white shirt. Moving over to the mirror he looked at himself, his hair was messed up, and there was sleep in his eyes. But that wasn't what he saw. Instead he saw brown eyes instead of green. A grim accusing look boring deeply in to Mathew's soul.
His head whipped away from the mirror, ripping his gaze off the phantom reflection. His eyes fell on his coat, the Earth Dragon Coat. The symbol of his power, a symbol of fear. Slowly he reached over and picked it up. It felt heavy, heavier then normal. He could almost hear an echo of screams as he held it. Real enough that Mathew dropped the coat to the ground and stumbled backwards, tripping over his feet and falling to his ass.
He just stared at the coat for a while. Looking at it, debating touching it again. Putting it on, he didn't know if he could put it on again. Knowing how much blood he has shed wearing that. Slowly he picked himself up, moving to the jacket. It was just fabric. Highly developed fabric from the military, but fabric nonetheless. He picked it up again, and he felt dread and pain wash through his body. He couldn't handle it, not anymore. His grip tightened on it as he threw it across the room. He watched as it landed with a thud, it was weighted after all. He couldn't do it, he couldn't bear to touch it, let alone wear it. He had worn that when he.....
No! Not again. I am going to face up to this. I am going to change, prove everyone wrong. Prove myself wrong. I can change. From this day forward, The Earth Dragon is no more!
IC:
His head was throbbing, a small groan of pain escaped his lips as he opened his eyes. He had to blink several times, his vision blurred. Something was off, the ground was damp and soft. The feeling of grass pressing against his skin. He was outside, but he couldn't feel the sun on his skin, it was chilly and dark. That made it night time, the last thing he could remember was walking away from the riot. That was in the afternoon though.
"Get up, on your knees." A voice called out to him, one that was familiar but he couldn't place it. He felt the blow of something slamming in to his ribs when he didn't move. "I said on your knees!"
Mathew groaned again, his eyes slowly adjusting as he started to pick himself up. He saw the figure in front of him, mostly shrouded by the darkness. There was no street light nearby, only the moon offered light, and not much at that. He felt the person's hands shove him down to his knees when he started to stand. He felt cold metal press against his forehead, he heard the clicking sound as the gun was cocked. Mathew's eyes widened in fear. He knew what was going on now, he was going to die. There was no doubt in his mind, that this would be his last few moments. Kneeling in the grass, with the cold metal of a gun pressed against his forehead. Things seemed to move slowly, details seemed sharp. He felt the wind against his skin, could smell a faint smell of exhaust from it. Sirens in the background wailing as the cops went off to try and stop yet another New York crime.
The boy smirked and that is when it clicked in Mathew's head. The leader from the riot, the one that shot him earlier today. As if thinking about it reminded him about the pain he felt a dull pain in his chest. None of the bullets got through his coat, but they hurt bad. Mathew's breathing was ragged, he was panicking, he didn't want to die. He wasn't ready to die.
He didn't know what happened, his arms shot upwards, he felt the gun in his hand. His hands twisted it, the gun fired. Mathew braced himself for the feeling of the bullet ripping through his skin, nothing came though. Instead he saw a look of shock on the boy's face. A blood stain slowly growing over his chest. The kid dropped to his knees, gasping for air frantically. The gun dropped to the ground next to him before he fell dead on the grass.
Mathew woke up with a start, his hand grabbing his chest where the kid had been shot. His breathing was erratic and hurried. He was feeling a wave of panic, slowly it died down as he realized it was just a dream. He flopped back on to his sweat drenched sheets letting out a sigh of relief. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last.
Still he couldn't just ignore it and go back to bed like he normally did. The talk with Olesya was still bugging him. She thought he could change, that he could better himself. He let out a loud sigh as he rolled out of bed, wearing a pair of pajama pants and a white shirt. Moving over to the mirror he looked at himself, his hair was messed up, and there was sleep in his eyes. But that wasn't what he saw. Instead he saw brown eyes instead of green. A grim accusing look boring deeply in to Mathew's soul.
His head whipped away from the mirror, ripping his gaze off the phantom reflection. His eyes fell on his coat, the Earth Dragon Coat. The symbol of his power, a symbol of fear. Slowly he reached over and picked it up. It felt heavy, heavier then normal. He could almost hear an echo of screams as he held it. Real enough that Mathew dropped the coat to the ground and stumbled backwards, tripping over his feet and falling to his ass.
He just stared at the coat for a while. Looking at it, debating touching it again. Putting it on, he didn't know if he could put it on again. Knowing how much blood he has shed wearing that. Slowly he picked himself up, moving to the jacket. It was just fabric. Highly developed fabric from the military, but fabric nonetheless. He picked it up again, and he felt dread and pain wash through his body. He couldn't handle it, not anymore. His grip tightened on it as he threw it across the room. He watched as it landed with a thud, it was weighted after all. He couldn't do it, he couldn't bear to touch it, let alone wear it. He had worn that when he.....
No! Not again. I am going to face up to this. I am going to change, prove everyone wrong. Prove myself wrong. I can change. From this day forward, The Earth Dragon is no more!
