Kaile Vera
Whiskey Girl
[member="Kurt Meyer"]
The dust would settle. The cries of panic wane. None of those would be registered by the seemingly small and limp figure of the Lorrdian on the ground. Her left hand was notably beginning to bruise, fingers broken in odd directions from the heavy weight that had stomped on them earlier. She was covered in dust, grime, and with the imprints of shoes.
Blood was slowly trickling from her nose, and she had a swelling bruise against her right temple. When Kurt came to her side, he would have to carefully roll her upwards. Kaile needed medical attention fast.
“Oh my goodness!” A woman cried out. As did several others. Kaile had not been the only victim in the rush of bodies. There were several others who lay prone, bodies in odd angles, most of them children or smaller races who had been crushed under the bullrush of individuals running for their lives.
Blood would stain the ground as would the salt of tears. “Medic!! We need a medic!” A man cried, holding his limp child. A small green hand of the Rodian sadly swaying under his father’s panicked cries. Blood dripping from those tiny fingertips.
Underneath Kaile, a dark red stain began to pool, saturating her breeches. Muscles would spasm across her body and the swell of her belly. It was bad. Really bad.
Perhaps, the only blessing being that Kaile was unconscious for the terrible horror that was to come.
The dust would settle. The cries of panic wane. None of those would be registered by the seemingly small and limp figure of the Lorrdian on the ground. Her left hand was notably beginning to bruise, fingers broken in odd directions from the heavy weight that had stomped on them earlier. She was covered in dust, grime, and with the imprints of shoes.
Blood was slowly trickling from her nose, and she had a swelling bruise against her right temple. When Kurt came to her side, he would have to carefully roll her upwards. Kaile needed medical attention fast.
“Oh my goodness!” A woman cried out. As did several others. Kaile had not been the only victim in the rush of bodies. There were several others who lay prone, bodies in odd angles, most of them children or smaller races who had been crushed under the bullrush of individuals running for their lives.
Blood would stain the ground as would the salt of tears. “Medic!! We need a medic!” A man cried, holding his limp child. A small green hand of the Rodian sadly swaying under his father’s panicked cries. Blood dripping from those tiny fingertips.
Underneath Kaile, a dark red stain began to pool, saturating her breeches. Muscles would spasm across her body and the swell of her belly. It was bad. Really bad.
Perhaps, the only blessing being that Kaile was unconscious for the terrible horror that was to come.
