Team Tembo: Day Two

[sparednothing]

[Things are far from calm today. At the break of morning, the camp is in utter chaos. Someone has let the dinosaurs escape, and giant herbivores are charging around the camp in sheer panic. The cage the baby Rex was in is open, the infant mysteriously missing. It seems Tembo hasn't returned from his hunting trip yet, better do something about these dinosaurs]

[[No sections, make your own! Dinosaurs can be NPC'd by players hemselves or by mods - just leave a note in the subject line if you want a dinosaur being NPCd by a mod. TEMBO ARRIVES | Day two ooc post | Plot Hub]]

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[ensorceler]

[ By now Anne has acquired a solid change of clothes, a blue hoodie, camo trousers, and combat boots, her hair wrapped back in a braided bun to keep out of her face. She has yet to let go of her small rifle, especially in all this chaos. It's just a good thing she is not randomly firing every which way, okay, but Anne is too injured to be able to run properly, so there is still some panic on her end.

So this is Anne kind of just trying to hobble and dash in between the stampeding beasts, unable to really cross over to any sort of clearing safely on her own. She can't help but scream in both frustration and fear, and eventually...she is going to fire on a dinosaur if it's about to mow her over, there is just no helping it. ]

[workaphilic]

[Sherlock, for one, is not shy about firing on any of them. They're scared, sure, running on instinct, okay, but if it's between them and him he's not going pull punches. Or, in this case, rounds.

Which is why, when Anne finally needs to fire, there's an extra spray of ammunition to back her up. Less the arrival of the cavalry, and more begrudging teamwork from someone also in the wrong place at the wrong time.]

[ensorceler]

[ Well her rifle has tranquilizers, so at least she's not killing them. Not that she'd care if she did, but she's taken what she was given.

...And if God is forcing this cur on her and it means keeping her from being crushed, she'll take that. Even if he's the reason she has so much trouble keeping a grip on the small rifle, though another is to blame for the reason it nearly knocks her off her feet twice. Her right leg is still too injured, but adrenaline is enough to keep her from collapsing. ]

The trees! But I cannot climb!

[workaphilic]

Have to find a Plan B, then, won't we?

[Woman if you think he's carrying you up a tree you have multiple other things coming.

He takes advantage of a brief lull to make a decision: the trees, even if she can't climb. Any cover is better than none.]

Come on, move.

[ensorceler]

[ She will use him as a fucking ladder whether he likes it or not. So it might be more dignified for his stupid sake if he does help her, the bastard. Why couldn't she be wearing spiky shoes?

Their love is something you silly mortals can't understand.

She scowls, in between a near-scream/half-gasp as she nearly misses getting run over by a stegosaurus, and does try to move. Once it's passed. But this is like trying to cross the freeway at rush hour and her limp is extremely visible when she tries to run, though at least she isn't wearing skirts to trip over. ]

[workaphilic]

[His options here are fairly straightforward: (1) he can get himself to safety, use his health and his height to outpace her and leave her to her own devices, or (2) he can hang back, help a woman he hates (who hates him in return), and delay the time it takes for him to at least reach the tree line.]

For god's sake.

[He stops and swings his rifle down to secure it under his arm. When she reaches him (provided she doesn't struggle significantly), he'll stoop to lift her over his shoulder.]

[ensorceler]

Wha—?!

[ EXCUSE HIM. His handling of Anne makes her seize up at first, if only because the last time he put his hands on her, it ended with a fractured arm, one that still aches when used too often. But then, it's a good thing the rifle is small.

She sees the logic in his action quick enough, but that doesn't mean she has to be happy about it or his crude way of going about it. But everything is moving too quickly for her to complain, in fact that is some kind of smaller herbivore zig-zagging in their direction, the poor thing in a panic.

And the poor thing also gets knocked aside with aforementioned rifle before it can risk knocking her and her reluctant carrier over. It scares it enough to make it run in the opposite direction, success! ]

[workaphilic]

[As soon as he confirms that she's not about to shoot him in the back of the head, he continues on toward the treeline, taking full advantage of his height to cross as much distance in as little time as possible.

It's difficult going with the functional equivalent of tractor-trailers coming from every direction, especially since lifting Anne limited the ability for him to use his own gun. It's a bumpy ride, to say the least, with a lot of unexpected twists and turns, as well as abrupt stops. He tries to give her opportunities to shoot over him whenever possible.

Never let it be said that Sherlock Holmes doesn't get the job done.]

[ensorceler]

[ A situation couldn't be more alien to Anne, possibly in every way imaginable. And maybe that's why it's so easy for her to focus only on it and nothing else, at least for the time being. Is she even Anne Boleyn anymore, being carted around in the most undignified manner, dressed like a man and shooting strange beasts that almost seem to look more scared than her at times?

Well screw them, she comes first. Unfortunately, though she has been taught to use the weapon, she is still not the best shot, especially with her weakened arm, so occasionally it takes more than one attempt, and it isn't long before she needs to reload. Which she can't really do in this...position.

This is taking too long, and she's starting to freak out again, because seriously her gun is nothing but a clunky night stick now. ]

Would you hasten your steps before we end up as their most disappointing supper yet?!

[workaphilic]

If Your Majesty weren't such dead weight, maybe we'd have gotten there already. I know it's an occupational hazard, but really.

[Perhaps he moves a bit too early to go around a spooked triceratops. Perhaps the edge of its frill comes very close to Anne's face. Perhaps it's an accident, but then, perhaps not.]

Watch your head.

[ensorceler]

[ Damn you all to hell, Sherlock, she is as tiny as women get! She barely eats. The sarcastic 'Your Majesty' actually makes her go limp rather than elbow him in the back of the head like it normally might of. Now she hates hearing it, especially when it is certainly mocking. But now she thinks it to be mocking from everyone who says it.

The close encounter definitely jolts her again, and she just about screams in his ear before trying to duck, and at the same time cling closer to him, as there's very little movement option for her you vindictive bastard. Anne dares to sound frightened. ]

Please, just find some shelter!

[workaphilic]

[He doesn't say anything else, apparently satisfied as having won that particular round. It's not much further to the tree line, and he crosses it without too many other hiccups.

As soon as they get far enough into the jungle that she might not be immediately mowed over, Sherlock sets her down. Not quite as gently as would be expected for a Queen of England, maybe, but gently enough so as not to irritate her injured leg much more. (Don't need her screeching in his ear for that, too.)

Then he brushes past her, making his own way through the trees.]

[ensorceler]

[ Solid ground, she couldn't be happier to find it again. The force with which she tries to quickly stand on her own is notable, anxiously tugging at and smoothing her strange clothing, and reaching back to find her braid having uncoiled partially from the bun.

But hardly any time to fix, as she stares at the stampede beyond, not even able to make out any other people on the other side. ]

...You have my thanks.

[ But uh. ]

Where are you going?

[workaphilic]

[He doesn't respond to the proffered thanks, not even to dismiss it.]

I'm not particularly keen to stay here, are you?

[ensorceler]

[ Anne shakes her head, moving to follow, but there is pause. Guilt in abandoning others.

It's momentary, and she hurries after him, limptastic as she is. At least she can walk. ]

[workaphilic]

[His rationale is that there's nothing he can do to stop a stampede, and to run back in after he's gotten out would be helpful to no one, least of all him. So, the best thing for all parties involved is to move on.

He doesn't seem to care that she's following him, but he doesn't offer her any more help, either.]

How much ammunition do you have?

[ensorceler]

[ Oh, yes, she had nearly forgotten. Anne checks her belt, attempting to reload the rifle while walking without screwing up. She's still so new to this, and adrenaline is still going. ]

Enough, I should think, unless we must push our way through several more of those stampedes.

[workaphilic]

It's not impossible.

[He knows better than to eliminate improbabilities where Paradisa is involved.]

We will run into something, though. Be prepared for it.

[ensorceler]

[ She's as prepared as she's going to get, at least, so for now she's not saying anything else in response. They aren't running around for small talk, and what are they to talk about, anyway? ]

[workaphilic]

[How much they hate each other's guts? Pass.

Sherlock leads on in silence. Occasionally he'll stop for no apparent reason, looking critically about the jungle around them, but he always continues on with the same confident steps as before.

At least they've got some peace and quiet.]

[ensorceler]

[ For a good hour, almost! Maybe even a little longer. But after that long Anne has to grab onto a tree to keep from outright collapsing, sliding down so she can sit. Her leg is screaming. ]

I must rest.

[workaphilic]

You-- [His expression twists unhappily, and he obviously has to bite back his complaints. He glares at a tree.]

Fine.

[He moves to sit against another tree, lays his rifle across his lap just in case, and stares at her while he waits.]

[ensorceler]

[ Wow, no pressure or anything, right?

Anne just ignores him, taking this time to catch her breath and try to pin her braid back up into a bun. She feels absolutely disgusting and sticky, but she still won't do more than unzip the hoodie. Anne would check her leg but she feels far too self-conscious with him staring (rather different from her confrontational nature every other time), so instead she just stares at something else. ]

[workaphilic]

[Sherlock sighs loudly.]

Really?

[ensorceler]

[ Well, that gets a glare. ]

Are you in such a hurry to be lost? I cannot believe you know where you are even heading.