Zompania Draft - Draftees only, days 1-3.5

[lucetimods]

Who: All Draftees
What: This is your death. Followed by your time-traveling life and desperate bomb hunting.
When: From May 22 to May 20 to early May 23 (days 1-4)
Where: Zompania
Summary: Information post here
Rating: Varies on thread, please mark explicit material.

This post is for the draftee-only portion of the Zompania draft--the day 3 death, time travel to day 1, and then the events until the arrival of the reinforcements. Be sure to use the above info post for any plotting needs you might have. Enjoy!

Please note that there is a specific top-level comment thread for:

• The day 3 arrival of the draftees and the 6 hours that follow until the bomb is dropped
  
• Death--This thread can be treated as REFERENCE ONLY. Responding to it isn't necessary.
  
• Threads prior to departing for Zompania--post resurrection freak outs, arguments over how to proceed, etc.

All other threading, from day 1 until the reinforcements arrive, should be conducted as normal.

Be sure to tag this post appropriately: [canon] character name

Comments

mid day 4

[touchofrogue]

Rogue felt the pendent Loki had given her shatter and immediately made her way to find him and find him she did, too late. She approached the scene of the slaughter with absolutely no caution at all, running at full tilt with a stolen mace in her gloved hand, her other hand perilously bare.

There were few combatants left on the field, and Rogue made short work of the ones in her way, because she could see him, on the ground, she'd know that shape anywhere--

And when she finally found him, Rogue almost wished that she hadn't. His throat was ripped out, stomach savaged--

She dropped to her knees. The mace thudded beside her as she took his face in her hands (What, cold my love?) and stared into his glassy eyes. There was no life there, no warmth left in his body.

"No. No, no, no." She shook his head in her hands. "Don't do this. Don't you do this!"

There was no response. This was no illusion. This was no dream. Loki was dead.

Rogue fell across his chest and wept.

She couldn't weep long; she didn't have time. She could hear the flutter of wings.

One hand, her bare hand, found his. She worked the ring she had given him off his finger and slipped it on her thumb. Returning one last time to his face, Rogue kissed his forehead. Then she turned her head over her shoulder and took in the Cultist flying toward her unprotected back. Her eyes began to glow.