Work Text:
Collections/Challenges: Whumptober, Day 18 (+19)
Prompt(s): “As the world caves in.” | Dystopia | Ruins, “You’re on your own, lost in the wild.” | Dehumanization
Character(s): Jason
Rating: General
Summary: Gaea won. She defeated the demigods, eradicated the gods, reigned down hell over the earth.
Yet somehow, Jason was still here.
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Gaea had won.
The world had descended into chaos, cities wiped out, nothing but ruins left in their wake. Monsters ran amok, free to kill anyone they pleased. Almost all the Olympians had been killed.
Jason had seen hundreds die, slaughtered in front of him without a care in the world.
Friends. Foes. Acquaintances.
He was on his own. Lost in the wild. Surrounded by nothing but enemies and danger on all sides.
The world seemed to be caving in, destroyed and remade. Humans were eradicated within weeks, swallowed by sinkholes, taken out by earthquakes and tsunami’s.
They didn’t stand a chance.
Jason was shocked that he hadn’t died yet. Shocked that despite everything, despite every friend he watched get murdered in front of him, he was still here. Still alive.
(Albeit, not without some severe hardship and abandoning too many of his morals, but he survived nonetheless.)
He barely felt human. Drifting aimlessly, doing his best to survive on the minimal scraps he found. Most of the food was stale or expired: he typically relied on hunting the few remaining animals he could find.
It was a dystopia. Terrifying. A hell hole that seemed to far fetched to be reality.
But it was. Everyday, he woke up terrified that Gaea had finally found him. Everyday, he mourned the loss of his friends. Everyday, he went out and did his best to make it through the cruel environment he found himself living in.
Everyday, he debated ending it all.
They had lost. Almost everyone was dead. What was the point of surviving?
But everyday, he dismissed that thought. He couldn’t afford to give up. If he gave up—… no one would be able to do anything.
He knew of a few groups who’d somehow managed to evade death. He kept in touch, always mourned when one of them dropped off the face of the planet.
There was just enough hope to keep him going, but he was finding it harder and harder to care about it everyday that passed by.
He watched with cold eyes, eyeing up the buck he’d found wandering around. A rare find—something he had to treasure. He’d run out of meat from his last kill a few days ago, this was the first time he’d spotted in animal in just as long.
He’d been tracking this specific deer for at least a mile, but was having a lot more trouble than he thought he would. The animal always seemed to be sensing him at the last second, bolting away before he could get close enough. Jason was steadily growing fed up. His head was pounding, everything in him was tired, and gods, he was so hungry.
He crept over for the fourth time, silently, hardly breathing. His footfalls were light, controlled, his brow pinched together and furrowed with sweat. The grip on his sword was tight, whole body tensed and ready to pounce.
He waited behind a tree, eyes sharp. He took another step and the buck stood still. Another, another, one more—…
He acted quickly, jumping the final three feet he needed to cover, slashing the creatures throat just as fast. The buck thrashed, rearing up on his hind legs at the sudden pain. Jason took a few steps back, hardly noticing the blood spray across his shirt or face, too focused on not getting kicked. The buck jumped again, agonizing and wet sounds leaving its mouth with every moment past. Whines, keens, desperate pleas that Jason couldn’t understand.
It took a few more seconds before it started stumbling, a few more and it was collapsing to the floor. Jason crouched next to him, eyes blank. The first time he’d done this he felt awful, couldn’t shake the feeling of killing an innocent creature for weeks.
But this wasn’t his first time anymore. He couldn’t afford to feel bad. It was him or the deer, and as much as Jason wanted to save the deer, he had to pick himself.
He muttered a small prayer over the body as the deer wheezed on it’s last breath, thanking the animal for it’s sacrifice.
The flight back to his camp was uneventful. He had to take three trips in order to take every part, and his self control was steadily growing thinner. Hell, he debated eating a part of its leg raw just to satiate himself before shaking himself out of it.
He let out a sigh, staring down at the dismembered animal. He still needed to skin it, cook the meat, bag everything he couldn’t eat that day…
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew he had to survive, he knew the final goal was to end this stupid earth goddess, but gods…
How the fuck was he supposed to do that?