nonverbal starters | @begrimedchainsshelter - protect them
A desperate lacking of medical supplies required someone to traverse the realms. With so many injured, Claudette stepped away from her comfort zone around the campfire and stepped past those dreaded gates to play the noble hero.
She has limited knowledge of where killers prefer to be outside of trials, just that they inhabit the realms beyond every gate.
Without active search, it is easier to sneak around, but that doesn’t stop her heart from beating straight out of her chest; expecting a killer behind every corner, every turn. Every breath may give her away.
A yelp escapes the throat. Pain is shot up the leg as metal jaws come to clamp around the foot, rusted spikes digging into flesh draw crimson. She collapses to the dusty ground, gripping the jaws. The hinge squeaks, but she can’t manage to pull it apart.
She hears rustling somewhere in the distance. It could have been the wind, or a crow, but she wasn’t chancing it. There’s strangled attempts to pull it apart, becoming desperate. Pulling her foot until the bright red is visible outside of her boot.
And as she looks up, she sees him. The killer. Well, a killer. Not the one who she would particularly expect to see with bear traps at the MacMillan Estate.
But that didn’t matter now. What mattered was he was bounding towards her, weapons in hand and all she could do was shield herself with her arms. Cowering as he got close.
But there was no rev of the chain saw, no raise of the mallet. No. He crouches. Claudette tries to squirm away to no avail, only exacerbating whatever injuries she’s already sustained from the trap locked around her foot.
Hands much larger than her own then reach for the trap and nigh effortlessly pull it apart. She flinches as the spikes dislodge from her joints-- and only then does her shielding hands lower to look at her ...
There’s long pause as she debates whether to turn tail and run or to express gratitude. So she remains sitting there in shock, breath heavy as she retreats her injured foot away from the trap.
Finally the adrenaline scattered brain sorts that she ought to go before the Trapper does arrive. No doubt he heard the sound of a trap set off.
She stammers, clambering to her feet.
There’s a brief moment she looks him in the eye, furrowed brows etching across her features like she is most definitely confused--- before she turns tail and scrambles as fast as she can for the exit gate.
