Pratt has mercifully been spared the memories of home thus far, which is just as well because there certainly aren't a lot of pleasant ones. He's been plagued by a nagging sense that something is wrong though. Moreso than the usual 'on a space station in a different plane of existence' sort of wrong. The kind that's more pressing and crucial. It's setting him on edge and causing his normal nervous jitteriness to go into overdrive.
Every time he sees another person is a breath of relief that there's still some normalcy here. But he hasn't seen anyone in a while as he tends to the fence while a few deer glare at him and wonder where their dinner is.
It's the wolf at his side that alerts him something is awry, her ears perk suddenly and she turns with a growl to look towards the area beyond the pens. Where the small flock of ducks that Pratt can never catch like to congregate. He glances over, the ducks are back, but that's not the source of the animal's unease. It's that the ducks are in a pond.
Well, more like a swamp.
Had there always been a willow tree there? It's branches swaying in wind that shouldn't have existed inside a building. There definitely hadn't been water before, flies buzzing and stagnant water lending an odd smell to the air.
Starting up he grabs the nearby shovel and takes a few hesitant steps towards that area. Better see what's happening and if it's going to affect him or his livestock.
But then there's a scream and Pratt is all but running towards the source. He knows that sort of scream. Being with Jacob had made him witness to every different cadence of scream there was: begging, fear, agony, despair. This is terrified pain, and it's coming from right around that tree over there...
Pratt doesn't even hesitate, swinging the shovel and smacking the first person he comes across with it. Not with the blunt side either, the edge, aiming to down them permanently. He can see someone on the ground, smell the iron scent of blood in the air, but he hasn't made the connection that it's Kieran yet. Only that there's a group of people torturing someone else.
He doesn't care who they are, and as one goes down he turns to the next. No hesitation. No mercy.
This is why we train.
It's only after he's backing away from the second who nearly managed to shoot him in the stomach that he recognizes the outfit of the person on the ground. He can't see his face, only his legs as he's being held by several of them, but there's only one person who dresses like that here.
no subject
Every time he sees another person is a breath of relief that there's still some normalcy here. But he hasn't seen anyone in a while as he tends to the fence while a few deer glare at him and wonder where their dinner is.
It's the wolf at his side that alerts him something is awry, her ears perk suddenly and she turns with a growl to look towards the area beyond the pens. Where the small flock of ducks that Pratt can never catch like to congregate. He glances over, the ducks are back, but that's not the source of the animal's unease. It's that the ducks are in a pond.
Well, more like a swamp.
Had there always been a willow tree there? It's branches swaying in wind that shouldn't have existed inside a building. There definitely hadn't been water before, flies buzzing and stagnant water lending an odd smell to the air.
Starting up he grabs the nearby shovel and takes a few hesitant steps towards that area. Better see what's happening and if it's going to affect him or his livestock.
But then there's a scream and Pratt is all but running towards the source. He knows that sort of scream. Being with Jacob had made him witness to every different cadence of scream there was: begging, fear, agony, despair. This is terrified pain, and it's coming from right around that tree over there...
Pratt doesn't even hesitate, swinging the shovel and smacking the first person he comes across with it. Not with the blunt side either, the edge, aiming to down them permanently. He can see someone on the ground, smell the iron scent of blood in the air, but he hasn't made the connection that it's Kieran yet. Only that there's a group of people torturing someone else.
He doesn't care who they are, and as one goes down he turns to the next. No hesitation. No mercy.
This is why we train.
It's only after he's backing away from the second who nearly managed to shoot him in the stomach that he recognizes the outfit of the person on the ground. He can't see his face, only his legs as he's being held by several of them, but there's only one person who dresses like that here.
"Kieran?"