Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Thunder crackled against the ashen sky, bathing the world in a flash of brilliance before all returned to sepia drab. The wind whipped up sand and pebbles like the fearsome fist of an unseen figure, and Thea covered her face against the torrent, her other arm holding her coat over her head, to block the heavy drops of rain that had begun to beat down on her. On her. It was a vast wasteland beyond the city of Pax, yet the clouds overhead followed after her with a vindictive fury. A part of her, the part that had followed so blindly for so long, nearly believed that Augusta Hesh had sent them after her, himself. For three days, without mercy, the storm had assailed...and were it not for the ever present reminder of the life growing inside her, she might have turned back.
Inside the city walls, she had lived in resigned contentment for so long. Too long. She had never known struggle or hardship. Now they were her constant and only companions. Yet she dare not give up or return. She knew the consequences for her rebellion… how swiftly one simple act had escalated, until it had turned her entire world over and inside itself. She was a Lawless. And like those before her, she was doomed to wander the empty, arid world, until her end. Their end.
Her hand fell from her face and pressed against her stomach, still a deceptively flat surface, but inside she had felt the roiling movements… the life that grew, day by day. By leaving, she had spared her unborn child… and doomed them, all the same.
Struggle and hardship would be joined soon enough. Death would come eventually, riding high upon his horse, a black and merciless end. She could almost see him, a silhouette against the horizon, robes fluttering against the violent tumultuous winds. Pausing, shielding her eyes, she squinted… It wasn't a figment of her imagination, but it wasn't death, either. The figure moved, and Thea's hand pressed to her chest. In their hand, she could see the length of a rifle, and as they neared, it raised, the shaft resting against the figure's shoulder, with an air of casual authority.
Their voice called out, a muted baritone against the howling, violent wind, "You're either stupid or suicidal t'be out in this mess!"
Her shoulders rolled forward, as her breath unleashed in a gasp, and clutching her stomach, Thea burst into tears.
"Woah, hey there…" The voice was closer now, and through a veil of tears, she could make out the man's form against the backdrop of murky greys and beige. He was tall and narrow, lean, but for his shoulders, which jutted out at a broad, severe angle. His face was partially covered by a loose close over his mouth, but his eyes were a tepid blue, a scar running the length of his brow, to his jaw, "Won't make it far out here, you go fallin' apart like that. Come on. Not far to the Sanctuary, and it's just about dinner time."
Reaching out, the man's hand clasped her shoulder and she noted the absence of a pinky finger, her heart sinking deeper into her stomach, but without a word, the tears leaving salty, sand-crusted tracks along her cheeks, she allowed the man to lead.
Not far, as it turned out, was a few miles, yet, but after three days of wandering, Thea made no fuss at the sight of the pikes of barbed wire fence, peeking up against the sand. Canvas tents and small stone structures lay beyond the fence, a small dome-like hut on the outskirts, a guard shack of sorts, where a figure, dressed similarly to her nomad savior gave a wave with his rifle. The man beside her waved back, then called out.
"Got a lost sheep! Tell Owen to meet me in my tent! And have whoever's on KP bring up a bowl of stew and some bread." His hand returning to her arm, he continued to guide Thea towards the entrance, through the gates of the fence and onward into one of the tents nearby. It was moderately furnished inside - a rickety metal table and folding chair, a cot piled with woolen blankets and a small box which may have housed clothing, or other supplies. On the table was a silver knife and a black pistol, and beside that, a tall pitcher, condensation glistening off the pewter finish.
The man gestured to the cot and without hesitation, Thea collapsed onto it, her head folding forward as she cupped it in her hands. There was shuffling and the sound of water, sloshing into a tin mug, "Here. Drink up."
Looking up, she took hold of the mug and staring into the depths of it, felt the weight of tears, burning against her eyelids, again. Pulling down the scarf around his face, he exposed yet another scar - a hairline split across the bow of his lip.
"I'm Shepherd. You got a name?"
Taking a sip, she savored the sensation of the cool water against her parched throat, caring little as it poured down her chin and the length of her arms. Only when she had drained it did she dare speak, her voice ragged and uneven, quivering, teeth knocking against teeth, "...Thea."
"Come from Pax, did you?"
Nodding, she held the cup out, and Shepherd refilled it, and as she drank, he continued.
"Hasn't been a soul seen from that place in a good, long while. We saw you on our radar, a few hours ago. Figured only someone desperate would go wandering in the middle of a hellish storm like that. What're you runnin' from?"
Sitting up, her arms crossed her stomach and she frowned, her eyes cast down into the empty mug, "...I broke a rule."
"...Well, that ain't exactly hard to do, darlin'. What did you do? Where a purple sock? Spray spit while you were talkin' to someone?"
"I'm pregnant." The words came out with the weight of lead, and clearly, made their mark, as Shepherd straightened, his eyes widening ever so slightly.
"...Hell."
Her palm flattened against her belly and she breathed in, "I… I went to the Hub, to turn myself in. I was there, standing in line. And I… I felt it move. I couldn't do it. I couldn't go in. I went home, and I packed what I could and I ran." Her eyes flickered up, "I just… ran."
"You did the right thing, Thea. Hell with what they say."
The tent flap folded back and Shepherd turned as another man poked his head in - he had a head of thick, black hair and deep, baleful eyes, the shade of copper. There were no scars, at least not physical ones, but his face was a map of his history, his expression weary and worn, "Shep. You called for me?"
"Owen's our resident doctor, Thea. You alright if he takes a look at you?"
Swallowing, Thea sat rigid, her head bobbing in a nod.
"Good. Lemme just have a word with the Doc outside, and then he'll be right in. Food should be here, soon… I think Saros is on KP tonight. Don't let him bully you, though. He just looks like an ass… but he's alright." Rising, Shepherd smiled, bowing his head before he turned and slipped out through the tent flaps.
After he had gone, Thea dropped back onto the cot, her hand on her middle as she stared up into the canopy of the tent, tears trailing into her hairline. Sanctuary…
She wasn't alone, anymore… but somehow, that wasn't the relief she had hoped it might be.
Saros had been at it for nearly an hour, moving his arm up and down monotonously, dunking the soup ladle in, pulling it out and sloshing its contents into the bowl before him until his arms trembled under the strain of the action. Then came the part where he had to refuse seconds to the younger ones, watching as they came trotting up with the same hopeful, doe eyed expression, inevitably to be crushed by Saros. But occasionally, when they were lucky, even he would relent, scooping a little extra into their expectant bowls while others weren't looking.
Children were rare amongst the camp, ever since the mandatory sterilization. For the camp, children were a breath of fresh air. So naively innocent and bright. A break in the haze. For them, their short little lives, they were unaware of pain and struggle. Their existence burned brightly like beacons of hope, untainted and honest in their every intention. They were the paradigm of the chaste beauty and simplicity that still existed in the world. Children were the unscathed surfaces of paper, but the older they grew and the more that was written on those sheets, the more twisted they became, the more cautious, and the more weary.
But these children were the source of everyone's motivation. For them, they would strive to be better, to make the world into something better, as if molding clay into an ideal image. It didn't matter if they were the ones to sacrifice everything if it meant these children, who deserved so much more, would be able to attain it. Their sacrifices wouldn't be in vain if it at least benefitted one. The world right now was on an eluctable trail of disaster.
"Saros!"
Knocked out of his revere, Saros's silvery blonde head dipped up, piercing cerulean blue eyes making contact with his interlocutor. "Hm?" The male's eyebrows furrowing together on his smooth forehead, drawing together like two little caterpillars.
"We've got a newcomer. Shep wants you to bring her dinner. She's in his tent right now."
With barely a grunt of a response, Saros bent back down, busying himself with scrapping the last of the vegetable stew out of the stainless steel stock pot. Meat was a rare occurrence, a one in a blue moon sort of thing. Sometimes, they would be able to obtain a few pounds of meat to make a soup during Christmas. For the most part, though, they made stews. It was the easiest thing to stretch when resources were scarce, and considering they were a meager little rebel group against the corrupted government, Pax was not going to lend them any support.
Saros had always found it ironic how the word "Pax" meant "peace" in Latin. It was true. They were at peace, but it was also more safety than anything. Pax was able to offer security above all else, and this was all the citizens knew of. To be anything else was stepping into the unknown, where a road was not necessarily already paved out. For the price of peace, each person had readily given up their own personal rights, including the most fundamental: speaking, writing, and reproduction.
It had been five years since Saros had made his own escape. After his parents had been caught affiliating with the enemy and creating propaganda against the government in an effort to expose its corruption, they had been publically executed. From there, his own childhood had been shattered with the same fragility glass.
At the time, he had barely just turned eleven. From there on, he was sent to live with a distant relative, but she had been like the rest of the population and nothing like the warm and caring presence of his own parents. She had barely put up with his questions, and it wasn't long before he distanced himself, withdrawing from everything he had previously found interesting. It was as if he had imploded within himself.
It was when he had turned eighteen that he had finally gathered the courage to make a run for it. For him, there had been nothing left in the world. It seemed as if he truly weren't living, but rather gliding through each day with the pneuma of a ghost.
Drunk on his youth, on his eighteenth birthday, Saros had made a mad dash for the exit. At that time, in his guileless state, he had thought life would have been much better from the confines of Pax. But he had been so unprepared, his head stuck in the clouds. For him, the goal had only been to abscond the government, but the young man hadn't ever considered the consequences of escaping.
In the middle of a storm, he had been found wandering by Shep, dehydrated and delirious, and that was when the last of his facades shattered. What he was greeted by hadn't been a paradise of the free, but a straggling group of nomads scrapping to survive.
A man by the chosen name Shepherd, or Shep, led the roaming band, eventually setting up a permanent camp as their numbers swelled. To him, they were all his children, wandering like lost sheep in need of a leader to protect and nurture them.
As the last of the campers were fed, Saros scrapped the last of the soup into a bowl, sliding a piece of bread onto the plate before balancing everything on a metal tray that remained cool underneath his touch. Judging from the weather raging outside, whoever had been caught wandering would probably be completely drained. After a moment of hesitation, Saros set a cup of warm tea as well before ducking underneath the heavy cloth tent.
Their camp had doubled in recent years, spreading out to engender the whole entire dusty tundra of an area. The harsh land didn't accommodate much, so most of their supplies were dependent on an interlocking web of other rebel groups. However, if there were to ever be a blockade, everything would barely stretch out past a week.
Stepping out into the wanning light, the winds still blew vociferously, deafening his senses, tugging at his loose clothing, silvery hair darkening underneath the rain drops. Struggling against the winds, his ears were filled with the sound of the creaking old oil lamp and the rough sounds of billowing fabrics of the tents, who stood spread out against the undulating landscape like little white mushrooms.
Even in the dark, Saros could trace the steps past the solid ashen gray rocks, the little patches of clover oscillating in the violent winds. This whole place had easily wormed its way into his heart, and in just a few short years, had become more of a home than Pax ever had in eighteen years.
Pausing at the tent, "I'm coming in," he mumbled gruffly before pushing the little flap open, letting golden light spill out onto the dark tundra.
Rivets of water ran down his hair, soaking through his thin clothes as he set the tray down in front of the young woman, who, judging from her unlined face, was most likely younger than he. She still oozed that aura of privilege and ease. In Pax, she most likely had had no experience with hard work. There was no such thing as struggle within those walls.
Allen had said she had run away from Pax. For what? What had she done that was so bad a pampered young woman like herself should have to flee?
Fixing his unwavering azure gaze on her, "why did a coodled young woman like you run away from the Holy land?"
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
She'd begun to drift, almost not of her own accord when the voice outside of the tent startled her awake. At first, she thought it might be the doctor, but seeing the man who entered, and the tray he carried, she supposed it was more likely the kitchen boy. He was tall, and wiry, but there was a definition of natural muscle that stretched the length of his shoulders and arms, muscle honed, no doubt, from hard work and a harder existence. His face, if it hadn't been wearing such sullen, hardened expression, might have been handsome, his eyes, a cool blue fixed on her in a frosty stare.
Coddled. It wasn't as though he was wrong in his assessment. Life in Pax for anyone who followed the rules was pleasant and peaceful She had never wanted for much, so long as it was within the confines of Pax laws, and unlike a few she knew, she'd even managed a half decent union with her designated lifemate. If all had gone well, she could have been content - maybe not happy, but content.
Still, inexplicably, like a threatened cat, she felt herself bristle at that word, at the notion of prejudice behind it. As though he somehow were above her, high up on his noble steed of sacrifice and grit. He had been a citizen of Pax, too, once. They all had, and whether he liked it or not, that put him in the same position as her. Or... almost the same position.
Sitting up slowly, she gripped the edge of the cot until her knuckles paled, "I'm not sure that's any of your business. I don't even know you, and you definitely don't know me." She stated defiantly, with a ginger frown. The frown softened, slightly, and one hand uncurled, resting against her abdomen, "I had no choice."
Everything about the woman reminded him of why he had left Pax. She was beautiful, soft curls of caramel toned hair, pale skin completely smooth and entirely unblemished. But beyond that was the presence she exuded, that comfortable, quiet confidence of elegance, simplicity, and ease, even with her wind tossed hair, ragged clothing torn and crumpled from the raging storm. That, tragic beauty that she emitted was the very essence of Pax: a locked, calamitous prison of allusions and reneged promises.
Setting the gas lamp on the tiny steel table, hearing the rusty hinges groan harmonize with the creak of the furniture. The warm light flooded inside the tent, sending splashes of translucently lucid darkness dancing across the concave fabric walls. Saros knew he was being too harsh, but he was skeptical. In the past, there had been efforts of spies entering the camp to gain an advantage against them, exploiting Shep's soft and welcoming pneuma. Though there was something on this young woman's face that led him to believe otherwise. Over the years, an acquired skill beaten into existence through sheer survival, the male's livelihood depended on his judgement of character. The woman's face was so naively open and honest that it didn't seem possible for her to be lying about something as momentous as her own existence. There was nothing on her that spoke of contentment. In a vague manner, her behavior reminded him of a child's. The way everything was so clearly unscripted on her face, patiently waiting for him to simply read like a book, the calm in which she seemed to accept events, the way she reacted so clearly to his words. It was.. nearly adorable, if Saros even had such a term within his vocabulary.
"No, I suppose it isn't my business. It's not as if it matters to me anyway what happens to you." There were plenty of other things that already sapped at Saros's energy and mind. What was another person to this camp? Saros's thoughts were preoccupied with various medicines and illnesses anyway. His position in this camp was as a trainee for the doctor, pouring over various medical texts days and night to keep his insatiable curiosity quenched, his thoughts scrubbed across notebooks in looping, scrambling scrawls.
Listening to her next comment drew the first semblance of emotion through his poker face like a ray of light passing through a thunder storm, silvery blonde eyebrows drawing together like curtains over his azure cesspools. Was she pregnant? It had been quite a while since anyone had escaped here for that reason, since pregnancy had become exceedingly rare in Pax from the mandatory sterilization. Of course, sometimes children born here who grew up did start families of their own, but even that was like thunderstorm striking a tree.
"Saros, stay here will ya? Once the doc's done and Thea's done eatin', show 'er to a spare tent.. I'm counting on you to get her acquainted with the camp," the older man winked, his scarred, weathered face wrinkling with good nature.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Stay here. It shouldn't have bothered her so much, the older man asking the impetuous, presumptuous boy to stay. He was obviously an important figure in the refugee camp, but the idea that he would be there, watching, and after he'd already managed to insult her? Maybe it wasn't fair to judge him so quickly, but hadn't he done the same? She was tired and hungry, and terrified, and the last thing she needed or wanted was to feel the scrutiny of some hot-headed rebel.
But apart from a grimace... one well hidden as she lowered her gaze, she said nothing and as the doctor entered, she looked only to him, almost intentionally ignorant of Saros. Of course, whatever lingering irritation or offense she held dissolved as the doctor began his examination. Sitting before her on a small metal stool with rusted legs, he steepled his chin in his hands, looking her over in curiosity, "Been a long time since someone came to camp in your condition, Miss. You'll have to forgive me if I'm a little out of my element." His eyes twitched to Saros and he smirked, "We mostly deal with cuts and scraps, a few busted fingers... but an honest to God pregnancy?" Whistling, he looked back to Thea and smiled a little more gingerly.
"You uh... you came on your own, then?"
Frowning softly, Thea nodded, "My... my spouse turned himself in. I was supposed to, but I... I couldn't do it."
"...Good thing you didn't. They'd have terminated you, for sure." Rubbing his brow, he glanced down at her again, "How do you feel?"
"...Tired. Hungry. I... I'm not sure how long it's been. Maybe two... three days since I left?"
Nodding, the doctor sank back on the stool, "Well, best you get some food and water in your system. Once you're settled in your own tent, we'll see about a more thorough exam, yes?" Looking up to Saros, he nodded, "Call me when she's settled, hm? And be nice, Saros..." Smiling, the doctor rose and patted the younger man on the shoulder, "If I remember anything from my medical history class, it's that it's never a good idea to irritate a pregnant woman."
Reaching for the tray, he turned and set it on the stool, gesturing to it, "Eat up, Thea. I'll see you shortly.." and with another nod, he turned and left the tent. Before the flap had settled back into place, Thea had already taken up the bowl, nearly pouring the contents into her lap as she dove into them.
That was how Saros was. Internally, the young man couldn't help but heave a small sigh. He couldn't help it. Everything had the tendency to rub him the wrong way, and there were times when he felt more like an aging camel than a young man. To be fair, Saros had a seemingly uncanny ability to single handedly insult every possible person unconsciously if he wished. But then again, there was probably a good reason as to why the male wasn't a popular person around the camp. Most tended to avoid him when it was possible, since he didn't exactly have the most friendly or welcoming presence offered within the enclosement.
"Mhm," was his only response, watching as Owen, the resident doctor, sit down in front of Thea before slinking back into the shadows, his dark clothes only aiding in his camouflage. That's how he liked things, anyway. Observing from a distance, where no one could notice him. People were unreliable, unpredictable, cataclysmic in their nature and devastating in their endeavors. Humans only knew how to destroy, not build.
The thought of a child growing inside another human perturbed Saros a little bit. It was a strange thought to think of another live embodied within the woman. The blonde had never really given much thought to where children came from, simply that they became. Here in the camp, they were equipped to deal with cuts and scrapes, splints for broken limbs from training sessions and to comfort the tears of their youngest members. An actual pregnancy within this camp? It was like saying you had been struck by lightning. That had a higher chance of occurrence. A little out of their element? It was an understatement. However, Saros kept his mouth shut, only allowing his lanky form to slouch against the little bookshelf, watching the scene unfurl, not missing the flicker of Owen's copper eyed gaze.
Grudgingly, he had to admit the girl, perhaps potentially a bit foolish or hot headed, was brave to set everything she knew off on a whim for a creature she hadn't even met.
He huffed, "I'll swing by your tent later, Doc." But Saros shared the older man's smile with a ghosted one of his own, features softening in familiarity.
Slowly as people trickled from the tent, leaving only he and Thea behind, Owen and Shep both having their own pressing duties to attend to, the young man pulled out a small book from within his pocket, cerulean cesspools scanning the scrawling script of the text.
With averted eyes, refusing to meet the girl's gaze, "drink the tea first before it gets cold," he ground out, posture rigid. The soup was already lukewarm from being out for hours. The tea was the only thing on the tray still truly hot, and the liquid had been brewed with calming chamomile, soothing ginger, and warming cinnamon, sweetened with a dash of honey. It was his roundabout way of being inconspicuously thoughtful while simultaneously being an asshole.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Thea barely took notice as the doctor excused himself from the tent, so enraptured in her meal she barely so much as looked up. It was only Saros's voice that drew her from her state of focus and her eyes shifted almost greedily from her bowl to the cup, still steaming on the tray. She wasn't one to rush anything, but she had already devoured half of the stew, and before he had finished recommending she start with the tea, she'd drained half the tankard.
It was hot, and she probably would regret it, once she realized scouring her tongue was hardly going to help her to feel better, but the liquid was refreshing and comforting, and truthfully nothing like what she might have expected for a refugee camp for denizens and criminals. It warmed her, through and through, enough so that the chill that had crept over her and settled uncomfortably about her seemed to lessen, her hands trembling significantly less.
Looking up, finally, she met Saros's gaze, and with food in her belly and the warmth of the tea spreading through her, she felt suddenly exhausted and far less irritated. He was just like her, no doubt...Well. Putting a hand to her stomach, she smiled faintly. Perhaps not entirely like her, but he was a fugitive - and it was little wonder he had been hardened near to stone, given the circumstances he had left, versus those he endured now. She felt bad, then, that she had been so coarse with him, even if he had started it.
"I'm sorry." She said, and the smile twitched away, as her gaze lowered again, "If I was short with you, earlier. I never thought... This isn't something you exactly prepare for, you know? I guess I'm just not entirely sure what to make of it all, yet." With a sigh, her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, "Anyway. Thanks... for the food. I'll get out of your hair, now."
She rose, but not for long, her legs giving out as she stood up from the cot, a wave of dizziness stealing the sturdiness she'd garnered from the much needed meal.
Watching Thea like this, Saros almost wanted to bite back an amused smile. He couldn't help but be reminded of how he too had been just like her when he had first arrived. Thea wasn't even eating the food, she was shoveling it down. It was funny how a few days out of your comfort zone, even through a pampered life, could instigate your desire to survive.
Saros mentally winced seeing the girl gulp down the hot tea. That was going to come back and bite her in the butt tomorrow morning. But he knew what it felt like to see the first hit meal in days. His first might at the camp, he had barely been eighteen, tiny and harrowed. At the time, the male had barely hit his growth spurt, trepidation forcing him into himself. It was jocular what a few years could do.
Surprise flickered across his face momentarily at Thea's apology. For a second, he was at a loss for words, "I-I.. it's nothing." Was all he could ground out, thankful for the darkness that enshrouded him so no one would have to see the uncomfortable flush creeping up hid pale neck. People were far too complicated. The young man didn't know how Shep did it all the time. Saros much preferred to stick his head in the books than with people.
His reply was only a soft grunt. Pushing off the self, he straightened himself preparing to take the tray of food and to show her to her room. However the serene silence was shattered when the young man watched Thea fall. In a moment of pure consternation he ounged for the falling mass, arms outstretched, just barely grabbing her by the arm, concern spreading across his features before it smoothed back into placidity.
Refusing to meet to meet her hazel toned orbs. "Idiot."
After a moment of contemplation, all he could do was muster up a sigh. Bending down, he picked her up, knowing all of her energy had most likely been used up coming here. Adrenaline was what sapped it all. Stepping back out into the cool night air, Saros could feel his thick soled boats sinking into the tundra mush, concocted from days of heavy rains. Gingerly picking around the bald patches of mud, the blonde managed to trek back to his tent.
Using his foot to nudge out the chair at his cluttered desk before letting Thea take a seat on its rickety frame before switching on the gas lamp in his room. Rummaging around in a little box, "Just for today. They'll have more for you tomorrow." Tossing her a linen tunic, "You'll be sharing a tent with a few other girls." Only ranked officers had single tents and families. Otherwise, there wasn't nearly enough space for their ever expanding group.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Independence was not a mindset that someone like Thea had ever grown accustomed to stepping into. In Pax, one relied often on others - It was the way in their society and for so long they had all lived under the idea that no man was an island - even if the concept was somewhat foggy beneath the strict ordinances and laws they were forced to follow. She simply paid little mind to the notion of personal freedoms or ambitions.
But swept off her feet and carted out of the tent, she couldn't ignore the sense of mortification. She felt like a child - worse than a child - for children needed to be coddled and protected. She should not have been so pathetic. So weak. But then, that was what the city did, wasn't it? It broke them down until they were little more than mindless drones, accepting of the rules, and giving no argument to the punishments of breaking the. She had been so ready... so ready to turn herself in, knowing full well what the consequences would be. And yet, had it not been for the life inside of her, she would have been all too willing, simply because it was all she knew.
Inside and set down on the chair, Thea watched as Saros moved about, frowning softly. She caught the tunic and looking down at it, rubbing the scratchy fabric between her fingers, she felt tears stinging behind her eyes.
"...Does it ever get easier?" She finally asked, her voice barely rising above a whisper, "Do you ever forget what it was like back there?" It wasn't perfect, even if they wanted you to believe it was... Utopia was an impossible goal, but for those blind enough to believe that it was achievable, Pax had come close. There was a comfort in the sameness of it - in the structure. Out here, in the wild, in the open, with no protection, no order, she felt overwhelmed and alone...
Dropping the shirt into her lap, she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, looking away from him, "...Feels like a bad dream. Has since I left. I keep waiting to wake up... waiting to find out it was all in my head." Turning her gaze back to Saros, she chewed absently at the edge of her lip, "...Why did you leave?"
The young man supposed that he had at least been more equipped for his mad dash to freedom than Thea. The year before, Saros had made up his mind, and from there, he had left pax, if not physically prepared, but at least mentally composed. Ever since his parents had died, the young man had been familiar with a world outside of Pax, toyed with the idea of finishing the very task his parents had died trying to consummate.
That event had shaped Saros as a person, had dusted the fog from his world and woken him up to the pain and the boundless exertion those put out to live a life far from picture perfect. That monumental moment had illuminated a dark patch, forcing him to see past the perfectly laid out blue print of a world. It had also been his first encounter with poverty and the homeless, those too unfortunate to live within the walls of Pax, and those who were sentenced to a lifetime of providing for the opulent lifestyle of citizens who would never be aware of the toil. Citizens that no longer appreciated luxury so much as just expected it.
Leaning back, Saros's hands stretched out behind his head, the light from the gas lamp dancing across the tent strangely, reciprocating each movement of the lamp, almost as if mirroring a dance partner. Outside, the male could hear the wind howling outside as the storm continued raging outside, seemingly unleashing some pent up vengeance. At this point, their tundra would be transformed to a swampy marsh.
Did it ever get easier? "It doesn't get easier, perse. You simply just get used to it..." Saros murmured carefully, dark eyes staring intently at the piece of paper he was fidgeting with in his calloused hands, the sound of the material scrapping against his skin soothing his frayed nerves. "There are times I miss the security... But there isn't enough time to ever dwell on it. There's no way to go back, and you'll find out very soon tomorrow, that there's more to be done in this camp than there are hours in a day." It was the blonde's roundabout way of reassurance, an emotion he found hard to swallow or ground out directly. Children to be cared for, food to be made, herbs to be collected and dried, trades to be exchanged, it truly was an ceaseless cycle.
"You'll get used to it... quickly.. Shep will help you.." Saros mumbled, running a hand through his silvery hued locks, moving on to fidget with his nails, scrapping the little crescent moons clean. The vast tundra seemed much more daunting at night, wen the darkness obscured the view, and because there were no trees, there was very little to block the winds during storms. Thea had perhaps picked the worst time to discover a new life, but there were so many more opportunities, so many more chances.
"My parents were found conspiring with rebels," the young man shrugged insouciantly. Everyone here had a background in tragic pasts. Nothing was outstandingly different from his. "There was nothing left for me back in Pax. That's all."
"You left for that baby, right? Wouldn't it have just been easier to stay in Pax, where your husband and family are?" His fair eyebrows raised, creasing his forehead. "It would have been much easier and required much less sacrifice. You'll never get a chance to see them again."
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
The rain came down harder against the canvas tent, the sound like pebbles, pouring from the angry, blackened heavens. All around the musky sent of wet mud overwhelmed all else, and Thea wrapped her arms across her chest, shivering in the cool air that beat unrelenting against the tent flaps.
In time to the drumming tattoo of the downpour, Thea's heart smacked against her chest, her anxiety increasing as the weather turned more violent. This was her life, now. Dirt and dust, rain and wind. Tents in the wilderness, with bland broth and lukewarm tea. Luxury was gone... Over and done with. It was something she needed to accept, but the notion of that chilled her more than the air outside. Would they put her to work? Would there even be something she could do?
At his question, Thea looked to Saros again, her lips twisting into a frown, "They wouldn't have let me keep it. I don't even think they'd let it live. And that's if they'd let me live. Besides... My family would have disowned me, first chance they got. Maybe it would have been easier, even if they had... But I'd never be able to live with myself."
Her hand rested against her belly and she lowered her gaze, "I'm sorry... About your parents. It sounds pretty awful." In truth, she might not have thought so, but for her own sudden bout of rebellion. She might not have cared before... Perhaps even thought they deserved it.
"I don't understand it... How we could be so blind to all of it?"
For some reason, the young man adored the rainy days. In the tundra, it was always cold and temperate. Each morning, Saros was already greeted by gusts of cool wind that blew straight through his clothes and toyed with his silvery hair. It was beautiful though, the way the clear blue skies always seemed to beam down on them, the bijou purple and pink hued flowers blooming in the spring, adorning the delicate grassy plains. But just occasionally, it did get a little boring. The symphonic petals of rain splurging from the sky reminded him of himself and the nature of the world.
The rain was beautiful, fat droplets of water pouring out of the sky, as if the heavens were crying. But just like anything in their world, it was destructive. Anything of everything was only good in moderation, and when the rains were unleashed, as if the gods were mad at the people, the swirling, red waters threatened to submerge them. The water rushed through villages, tearing across the camps, ripping out trees and tents.
That was why Shep had chosen a place on higher grounds, in case any floods happened, which was rare, but plausible during certain seasons. There weren't enough resources to rebuild everything, and the risk of casualties wasn't something Shep had wanted to take, even if it made their existence and survival more difficult.
"I know," Saros murmured quietly, azure cesspools intently watching the little flickers of light, as if they were shadow puppets. "But was it really worth uprooting your whole life for a stranger? What if the baby doesn't make it? It's extremely difficult for us to survive here, muchless a newborn babe. Doc and I run on limited resources, and we haven't had a baby born here in years. We know as much about that topic as the old man next door." The blonde didn't mean this lightly, and if it weren't warranted, Saros wouldn't have brought this topic up at all. But it was a serious consideration. What if the child didn't make it? All would have been for nothing.
Shaking his head, Saros just shrugged, "it's nothing. I was young then. Plenty of people have rougher pasts than you and I." It was easier to blow things over, breeze through them as if they didn't matter. The male didn't want to rip open old wounds again, pour salt over half healed scabs. He'd lived through it once, already, and once was enough.
Meeting Thea's gaze, "if you have no reason to, why would you look for cracks in a perfect life? It's easier to turn a blind eye and simply accept that this is the way things have to be. There's no reason to actively seek out what will kill you.. And no one wants to know the ugliness behind the beauty. Don't you know the saying, 'Ignorance is Bliss'?"
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
There was a moment during his questioning when Thea felt irritation rising in her throat like bile, and she had to swallow hard against it, too keep from unleashing a tirade on him. He had to think that way - they all did, even she, Thea supposed. Resources would be limited, and knowledge moreso. She had come, but only because rumor had led her to believe that there were people out there who might take care of her...
But what did they know about her, or care? What did it matter to them if she or her baby survived? She was just another mouth to feed, and someday would be two mouths... and all she had brought was more burden. Tears welled and she looked away, her hand slipped to the space beside her as she blinked, hard, shaking her head, "Whatever happens to me, it doesn't matter. I just... I couldn't... Whatever I did, if it was my fault or not, I know for sure it wasn't the baby's doing. I can't just let them kill it, because there's no space... I don't care what anyone says. That's not right. It can't be. You don't just kill something because there's not enough room for it."
Sniffling, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, she looked up again, "Maybe ignorance is bliss, but it's not real bliss. And I don't wanna be blind anymore. I don't want to be a burden, not on anyone. I'll take care of myself. I'll find food and shelter if I have to... and I won't be any trouble, but I'm gonna do everything I can to make sure whoever this is..." Her hand rested against her stomach, her eyes lowering, "They have the best shot at life. They deserve that. We all do."
Looking up again, she frowned, gingerly, "And that's why I left. I don't want the easy road, Saros. I want the road that's right. And if that means I lose everything... then I lose everything."
He knew, once again, that he had pressed the wrong buttons. Perhaps it would have been better for him to have just keep his lousy mouth shut. His intentions had never been to hurt Thea, but just to warn her. Their resources truly were limited. It was difficult to travel far distances without advanced technology to aid them, with the majority of the population relying on horses and animals. Winters were harsh, and a wrong number in harvest calculations could be fatal. He and Doc needed to collect a surplus of medicinal herbs and prepare for the worst, just in case disease spread over winter. The worst scenario was running out of medicine as disease and flu ravaged the camp It had happened just once in the past, and if Saros was on the watch, the young man was going to make sure history didn't repeat itself.
The male enjoyed being prepared. Enjoyed knowing. Thea was something both he and Doc did not know how to deal with. Pregnancy was more common for bigger rebel groups. Those had better hospital setups, better doctors and books, more experience. If any complication were to arise, it would be as good as a death spell for her and her baby. They would be trapped, cornered prey waiting for the razor sharp talons to swoop down.
Head lowered, Saros couldn't help but feel a lump creeping into his throat, "I suppose I don't never stand because I've never been in such a position." All his life, it had been his mother and father and him. No other sibling to care for, and now that his parents had passed, there was no one left on this Earth that he loved enough to risk his own life for. Saros was a selfish, selfish creature.
"Don't worry about it. Shep's mantra is that we take in anyone who comes into our camp. We're one big family. Nothing's going to happen to you if anyone can do something about it."
"I think everyone realizes it, though. They know that a life like Pax is too good to be true, but they're too afraid to unearth what might be the truth." Letting off a soft sigh, he leaned over, head propped up by his arm, which rested against his legs. "That's not the right attitude. That's how you get yourself killed up here. There's no way for you to survive by yourself, especially when you're this fresh out of Pax. But don't worry about it. You'll fit right in with everyone else," the male murmured, an impish smile flitting briefly onto his face, softening his features.
"If you'd like, you can either stay here in my tent for the night, or head out to the other tent. You can take the bed, I've got a bedroll. And don't worry about anything else. I'm not low enough to touch a woman who's asleep."
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Family. It was a funny concept for someone who had just lost everyone they knew. Maybe not lost - not like Saros had. It felt self-centered to think of it that way, knowing that he had probably endured much worse. There was a reason he seemed so cold, and perhaps it was just to her - perhaps he wasn't so closed off to the others around camp, and maybe things would change, but she couldn't help feeling like maybe it was just his way.
People who lived life too hard, who lost too much had a tendency, after all, to be a little calloused and cynical. And she didn't blame him. Not for the way he treated her when he'd first come into the tent, not for the questions, now. He had a life to protect - more than one life out there in the camp, and she was a threat to that, whether she meant to be or not. Maybe it wasn't wise to try and be on her own, and she knew she wouldn't get far - but she understood how difficult it was, accepting more and more people into what was meant to be a small band of rebels...
Their safety would be at risk, and she was at part responsible if anything happened to anyone. He was right to be a little paranoid, even if he was much nicer to look at when he smiled. Her own lip twitched up, ever so slightly, wryly at his words, and shaking her head, she rose, much steadier than she had been in the other tent, "I won't take up your space. You seem the sort who likes his privacy, and I may be privileged and spoiled," Here, there was almost a note of teasing behind her words, as she reminded him of his earlier impression of her, "But I'm not that bad. Thank you, Saros... for being honest. There doesn't seem to be a lot of that in the world anymore, and for what it's worth, I appreciate it..."
It was much easier to fall when you weren't as high up. Easier to let go when you weren't as close. Things would be easier if the young man hadn't needed to rely on others. When he had first gotten to the camp, nurtured under Shep's wing, Saros had been jaded and angry. Pathetically, ruthlessly, violent, like flames lapping up oxygen to survive, destroying and burning through every possible thing just to stay alive. Selfishly, without a single care, only decimating; anything that had touched him became rendered into deep red and variegated orange embers.
Saros had held hate closest to his heart, saw each and everything through a lense cast in fury, each thought that drifted to his mind centered solely around revenge. The young man had been blinded by his desire for vengeance that he hadn't, not even for a moment, considered those around him. The ones that had cared for him, loved him like their own, and cared for him even when resources were stretched thin.
He hadn't realized until it became too late.
Now, he would do everything to protect this camp. This place, that after so many years, had become his home. His second family. Saros would not allow anyone else to taint the childhoods of the youngest members here, nor would he let anyone mar a bright future. Each person deserved the same right to live, as Thea had said.
People were difficult, complicated creatures, twisted in their motives, manipulative in their implications. They were hidden by masks, removable and customizable, flashing quicker than a change of clothes. It took time to discern the true motives of a human. It was the reason why Saros took so long to trust, so long to warm up to another.
The young man simply did not want history to repeat itself from his past mistakes. His family came first and foremost. He would not allow anyone to lay a finger on them. All he could do was selfishly cling onto them, grasp for a life he could have had. Clutching in desperation just for a chance to feel needed by another with the same urgency of a child reaching for a balloon as it fluttered just out of reach, into the vast azure skies.
Saros didn't want to be alone anymore. Didn't want to watch as someone slaughtered his family a second time. Watch in helpless agony as the relationships he had taken so painstakingly long to build, and the promises of safety he had made, vanish in the snap of a finger. Only to start a new, again, as if those people had never existed.
"Learn to rely on the others at this camp, Thea. They are all here to help. Out here, we are a family, a community. Family do not abandon each other during times of need. Don't worry about anything. Why else would we have brought you back to this camp? Shep would have just let you die out there in the storm otherwise."
"I do like my space, but I don't like it enough to have to venture back out there to look for a lost sheep. Stay where you will, it doesn't matter to me. I'll come find you tomorrow morning if you go to the women's tent to show you around camp, like Shep asked."
Fixing Thea with his dark, cerulean blue eyes, Saros could only smile, despondent orbs mirrored in their misery, "sometimes you'll wish I wasn't being honest."
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
The saying went something like 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned', but in the camp that day, it very well should have been 'Hell hath no fury like a woman pregnant'... Thea had been at Shep's camp for a little over a week, and thus far had been settling in fairly well, given the circumstances. It was an adjustment, but where adaptation was necessary, she managed. She was helpful and as patient as possible, and while there had been a few incidences of confusion, or those little moments where it was so obvious she was accustomed to better, it didn't take long before she had made herself at home.
All but for that damnable generator... Three times that week, the thing had crapped out while Thea was working, and plunged into darkness in the cellar below the bunker where Thea had been stationed for the organization of supplies. Twice thus far, she had needed to fetch Shep to fix it, but this time, she was determined that it would not get the best of her, and so she had worked, tirelessly, following Shep's example until she had cut two fingers and shocked herself twice, all to no avail.
It had bested her. Metal and part, wires and cogs. It had gotten the better of her, and somehow, that failure, that devastating failure seemed so much worse to her than it really ought to. Finally, with a small shriek of frustration, she settled for slamming the wrench into the think, muttering a string of nonsense that was the amalgamation of every swear word she thought she knew.
"Just!" Clang "Turn!" Crash "On!" Came the tattered cries, in between smacks of the wrench, until her arms hurt and she'd cut herself again, throwing the wrench away in pure rage and crumpling beside the generator with a sob.
For someone of her background, Saros was pleasantly, or at least as cordially as he could be, surprised to see Thea adapting so quickly with the camp, considering it was a complete three-sixty to her usual world. Within the second day of her arrival, Shep had already assigned her to a spare job. Everyone knew that the more occupied someone was with their hands, the less time their brains had to roam.
But like any newcomer, she was a source of curiosity and intrigue. It had been at least two years since Saros's own arrival that someone had managed to escape from Pax. For the most part, their refugees and members came from their little web of neighboring allied camps. The chances of actually breaking off from the society were slim to zero. For the most part, the ones that were found wandering, the ones who had actually gotten past the walls, had already become delirious from dehydration and starvation, or had been fatally wounded.
Saros had been in the middle of mixing together a little medley of dried herbs, concocting it into some cough medication for a older lady suffering from an upper respiratory infection when they heard the banging. Slipping the colorful array of the dried greens and flowers from the pestle and mortar into a little cloth bag, the young man pocketed it, making a mental note to deliver it later before turning around to tend a patient. "Saros?"
Silvery head poking up from the midst of his work, bandage gingerly dangling from his teeth as his tall figure stooped over the smaller form of another, busy wrapping up a scrape, gleaming droplets of sanguine fluid already drenching the first layer of liner, dark red splayed against the bleached white cloth, like spilled ink. "Mhm?" Came the muffled reply.
"Go check on Thea, right? I think that's her screaming at the machine." Doc grinned, "you be my good sacrificial lamb, okay?"
Rolling his cerulean orbs, Saros grumbled like the old man he was deep inside, before finishing his bandaging, keeping the linen taunt.
"If you don't hear from me in thirty minutes, Doc, plan my funeral will you?" It was one of the male's rare joking moods as he stepped out into the crisp wind, the muddy grounds already dried from the earlier rains.
It wasn't particularly hard to locate the tent where Thea was working, based solely off the frustrated noises. Silently opening the little tent flap, Saros leaned against the pillar of support, watching in veiled amusement as Thea toiled on in her futile struggle against the motor.
Ducking down beside Thea as she collapsed with a sob, the male stared at the hunk of steel metal causing all the ruckus. Saros loved the mechanics of the human body, but for some reason, the workings of machines alluded him. All the wires, the circuits they connected to was just like one big human being, the way each part had to cooperate together to get the whole idea to work fascinated him. Running his hands along the smooth surface, he surveyed it for a moment, "you'll probably going to have to get Shep to fix this. He's the expert here."
Taking a seat on the ground, he let his limbs sprawl before catching a glimpse at Thea's pitiful hands, covered in scraps. "And you've managed to scuff them all up already.." The young man murmured, with a shake of his head, reaching for them as he examined the cuts. Her hands were still so soft compared to his own roughened ones, unused to such hard work. "We'll have to wrap them up later with some ointment, you idiot."
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
As Saros collapsed beside her, Thea sniffled pitifully, staring at the rough hands that clasped her own. When he spoke, she yanked her hands away, her cheeks reddening, and her jaw quivered as she shook her head, "I'm not an idiot! And I don't want Shep to fix it! I want to! I need to..." Looking to the machine, she sucked in another sob, "Don't you get it?? I can't do anything! I'm useless and that's all I'm ever gonna be."
She had come from Pax with no idea how the world outside worked, and she was getting a far more difficult lesson on it than she had ever really expected. She was surviving, certainly, and better she was sure, than anyone expected her to, but the emotional struggle wasn't what she had anticipated. She missed home... she missed the easy life, and she missed those conveniences that she had taken for granted her entire life.
She wanted this... to get away, to get better... she truly did, but it was so hard to see beyond the current circumstances to what could be, and she was tired of failing... tired of having to bother everyone else because she was inept.
Looking to Saros, she sniffed again and reached for the wrench, but winced, as she curled her tattered fingers around the handle, the metal tool clattering the floor, drawing another frustrated cry from the girl, "Augh! Forget it!"
