#Rescue at the battle of shiloh: Vin & Iris

[timeguardiansarchive]

Rescue at the Battle of Shiloh 1862 ~Iris & Vin: Innocentmanwithabounty

@innocentmanwithabounty  Plotted starter.

The raucous churning noise of the Mothership’s turbines settles into a dark hush as if, the hulking machine was taking an long awaited sigh. Dark lashes pry open from the temporary spell of slumber that accompanied the harshness of the journey through time and space.

Iris internally muses that if she were subjected to more of this insane Rittenhouse scuttling around, she’d develop a real whip-lash and distaste for all things history. Worse still, the young brunette was homesick. Maybe not for her physical home but definitely for her parents. 

The door slowly slides open, revealing another unfamiliar place. She is dragged out into the light by the escorting Rittenhouse agent. The ground is soft, mildly mushy beneath her feet. It must have rained recently in the dense thicket. And the air is rife with the static of a building conflict. But what it was had yet to dawn on her.

She swivels, allowing her gaze to soak up every detail of the world around her. Again, Iris is lost without hope of a compass or way to reach out to her beloved father. In the distance, there are myriads of voices and unrecognizable sounds.  Behind her, there seems to be the faintest bubble of a waterway. Was it a River? She doesn’t know. Its too far away from her present location to see. Between thick branches canvas tents flopped in the hushed breeze. It is in the direction of the tents she is being dragged.

 “We’re going to be here a few days. You might as well get comfortable in this tent,” the gruff voice totting her about mentions as she is unceremoniously shoved in. Iris felt her heart plunge from its position in her chest down to the shoes on her feet. Days? How many more days must she endure being dragged about like a rag doll to suit Rittenhouse’s needs? She just wanted to be reunited with her father and to go home! 

When the agent left, Iris stubbornly peered outside. Her eyes catch on a commotion past the guards standing resolutely at the entrance. 

Men in strange looking uniforms began to amass, rushing about in preparation of something in the woods around them. Gathering guns, horses, weapons, and ... were those canons?! They had to be! Fragmented pieces start coming together. She is in another war-zone. This was not Birmingham, England in 1940 nor her home in 2019. No. Things here were far more dated. She doesn’t have much time to put the pieces together for a faint pop - pop - pop followed by a few deeper bellows filled the air. 

Curiosity gets the better of her and Iris clambers out the back. It was now or never to make her perilous escape. Iris had to find the Mothership and then a way to get home. Sure, she didn’t know how to control it but how hard can it be? With every step ventured forwards, Iris played out scenarios in her head. Most of them didn’t end well which, only served to motivate her more. 

She pushes further into the woods. Corrilian hues constantly on the lookout for the odd shaped orb that had brought her here. Come on, Mothership. Where are you? I know you’re out here.

However, it refused to be found. Instinct compels her to plod forwards in the direction of the voices. Maybe someone had been fortuitous enough to find it for her. It was the only option she had left. 

The closer she got the louder the voices became. The pops and bellows which, had once been hushed now erupted like a thunderstorm all around her. A small sudden spray of hot lead struck the earth and trees surrounding her. A series of rippling growls are unleashed from varying distances and they rage viciously through the air. Some canon balls roar over head and some crash violently into the ground near her feet. Death, destruction, and agony follow in their wake. Wailing screams pierce the steady patter of her heart. Tears coat the brims of her eyes as Iris thought, surely this must be what hell is like!

Blindly she ambles around in search of a safety-net. Feeble porcelain fingers push upwards to cover her battered ears against the onslaught of suffering enveloping her. Following the direction of the nearest soldiers around her, she blindly slips to safety behind an embankment. Arms cover her head of frazzled curls. Iris tries to make herself as small as possible. Regret, like a terrible cough, lodges in the space of her lungs, weaving into the very fabric of her muscles.

“Dad? I... if you’re out there, I just want to go home!” She laments aloud, not really expecting anyone to see her. Eyes rapidly bat for she is too afraid to entirely close them. Her back is pressed defeatedly into the moist dirt. Time traveling was supposed to be a fun fantasy that Hollywood liked to turn into movies- not whatever fresh inferno this was! Iris adamantly wished she had never heard of the likes of Rittenhouse or the Mothership!