MADE OF CANDY.

     Noah’s heart was not made to be bent, contorted in any way. It was porcelain, fine China that required the holder to handle with care. But the world gave him something different. The world, especially these days, punished smiles & hugs with pain & death. The world did not take your kindness & use it as a strength, but rather counted it as a weakness. & even before this hell had begun, Noah felt that weakness slipping into his soul. Like acid wearing away at metal, his defense was worn down to nothing. He was out in the world with nothing there to defend himself except for thinly veiled smiles that wore away as soon as his back was turned. He was nothing more than a fallacy, one big, tangled, contorted deception. No one ever got to really know him, truly see beneath his skin. Not even Kat — whom he had known for nearly his whole life — had managed to learn more than what was just presented on the surface. & words like normal had always haunted him, hung over his head like a heavy cloud that was ready to burst — because what the fuck was even normal anymore? & in any case, Noah had never been looked at as normal. He was a spectacle, a concept that people tried to untangle, but not actually get to know. The people who wanted to know him only had malicious intent, not friendship. But that was why his personality persisted. That was why he did the things that he did, acted the way he acted. If he couldn’t find the light in the universe, then he had to be it. He had to be that for everyone else — carry the weight of the world, be the one person you could rely on to make you happy or simply just be there for you. More than that, it was the one simple request his mother & father had asked of him. “Do you really want that from me? & how would that be any easier? How would hating you be any easier than being friends with you?”

     “I don’t get it? Rory, you know nothing about me except for my first name & maybe my last name. You don’t know a single thing about me so how can you say I don’t get it?” His voice had remained a steady force for the most part, unwavering & strong. But if you listened close enough with the intent on finding a weakness, you’d see the holes in it, the slight shakes & change in tone. There was a sense of embarrassment as he watched Rory’s hands tighten their grip on the gun while he still held the small bugs in his hand. God, he was such a fucking idiot. “What do you mean it’s different? Do you think you’re the only one in this world who is constantly worried that everyone they love or care about is going to die?” He questioned, voice raising, but not with anger, rather indignation. There was a part of him that was ready to fight, ready to use words to cut away at Rory & make her feel what he was feeling, what he had felt for his entire life. But the other part of him — the good part — saw no need to do this because he knew that she had felt the same pain he had. Everyone did, and if it didn’t occur prior to the outbreak, then it sure as hell happened after everything fell apart. “Everyone dies, Rory, but that doesn’t mean you need to shut everyone out.”

“It means less interaction, dumbass. It means little emotional bonds — and it means less things to worry about, less things to be anxious over.” The words were meant to cut through him. This was NEWS ; Rory hadn’t found a reason to explain as to what brought her so close to Gwen and Callum, and why, even to this day, she continued to seek them out like some needy child. Rory WAS a needy child. Instead, her own words made her want to recoil. To turn back to her room and stay there for another week, MEDITATE or read one of the books from library. It didn’t feel good to admit shit. “It means LESS things for me to wish that I still had, like, fuck — sarafems to rely on.” Rory felt that it wasn’t her choice but the guilt was there, sitting on her heart... making her look at Noah with a shrug, smiling weakly as if everything that just came out of her mouth was a joke. It was the first time she raised her head to glance at him. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I’m not going to survive another a year if I’m always afraid of you leaving me or us or I’m always clinging to someone. It almost ruined my life... I’m not going to let it kill me.” That was FUNNY, she thought. Zia Eva always said that it wouldn’t kill her — separation anxiety? It could be remedied by medicine and weekends in which they spent time together. It wouldn’t cost her her life... With all due respect, zia Eva: EAT SHIT. “I’m pretty sure it could.”

She badly wanted to stop talking. It didn’t come often, that need for her to keep quiet —- but as his words were understood, it only made Rory’s fucking problem to seem TRIVIAL. It was trivial; it was nothing as worse as what others went through. A sigh passed her lips, cursing herself as she opened her fucking mouth. “When I was six, I didn’t go to school for a year because I didn’t want to leave my aunt. I was held back, just because I wanted to stay back at home with her. Every day, she brought me to work. I thought... The first time that she left me in first grade, I thought she was going to die. I kept — I kept picturing her in her shop, either getting murdered by one of her employees or accidentally stabbing herself with a pair of scissors or... or prickling her finger on a thorn and bleeding to death.” She took a deep breath — see, she has never told anyone this before. It was a story saved for weekly appointments, sleepovers... not this. “I still think about that all the time. Except this time, it’s Gwen and Kat and Opal and Augustus and... that’s — that’s how it’s DIFFERENT, Noah. It’s irrational. It’s stupid but it’s real. It’s real that I get nightmares over it sometimes. I get sick thinking about it.” It surprised her, how whispered her voice had become and how dry her eyes were. “Everyone dies, yeah – no shit, but to me? They die all the time. Every minute of every day that I’m not there to see them. Fuck, Noah... I like you — I DO ; but I like you too much that I can’t, it’s a fucking pain to even imagine you bleeding to death somewhere where I’m not there to see you. I don’t want that. I’m sure you don’t want that either.” Pathetic? A little bit ; god, what is it with ADMITTING so much lately? “So... I’m sorry if I think pushing some people out is the best option.” This time, she scoffed — a silly attempt to keep things lighthearted but it only made it more upsetting to her. “I don’t want to seem CLINGY, you know... don’t want to be that girl.” 

          Her SURPRISE was completely warranted — in f a i r n e s s, he didn’t think it would be HER either when he noticed someone had managed to break into the supply closet, but that didn’t make him any less thrilled at the chance to see a FRIEND again. ( And really, if a n y o n e were to get into the little room, he was GLAD it was her. ) The grin that i l l u m i n a t e d her features was infectious, and Topher wished he hadn’t SETTLED for the moment before he had the thought to pull her into an embrace. ( She would get at least ONE hug from him before they parted ways, that much was GUARANTEED. ) ❝ No, that — I mean, that would be SUPER helpful, actually! ❞ Topher countered with a light shake of his head, tugging a hand through his curls as he glanced back down at the crates. ❝ Y’already KNOW I was plannin’ on bringin’ some of this t’the Capitol. If you take some of it back t’camp, it saves me the trip. ❞ Not that he wouldn’t SHOW UP at the camp anyway for some reason or another in the days to come — it was his home away from home, the Capitol building. ❝ Take as many as y’NEED, Rory. Even with what I’m thinkin’ we can TRADE, this is still a whole lot more than the country club needs. We’re not a BIG camp, y’know? ❞

           The chuckle that tumbled from his lips at her mention of the MIXTAPE grew vaguely m e l a n c h o l i c when she suggested that maybe jazz ballads were more her speed at the moment. As much as he could understand the sentiment, it still TUGGED at his heart to think about. ❝ Well, if y’ever want to COLLABORATE, ❞ he began, his tone somewhat lighter, ❝ y’know where to find me. ❞ Topher flashed her a smile at that, shaking his head at the apology that followed. ❝ There’s nothin’ WRONG with that, y’know. I have so much appreciation for my camp an’ the people there an’ I can’t imagine, I’unno — EXISTING without them on a daily basis at this point, but even so, some of my favorite moments out of the day are when I’m sittin’ a l o n e, meditatin’ and stuff, y’know? ❞ He had a feeling that wasn’t E N T I R E L Y what the brunette meant, but he hoped it was encouraging if nothing else. ❝ What? No, I — well I kinda POPPED my knee outta place, it was more over — over HERE. ❞ As he spoke, the gardener gestured toward the side of his leg with a languid shrug. ❝ Happens sometimes, but this one was kinda GNARLY so I’m jus’ tryin’ to keep the brace on so it doesn’t like, KEEP poppin’ out. It’s already happened t w i c e this week. S’what I get for tryin’ to climb down a RUSTY fire escape, I guess. ❞

Time was a train to Rory Damiani — and everyday, it kept moving and moving and without warning, increased speed until there wasn’t much left around in the station but her. It gave her anxiety and the only thing she was thankful for having it was that it masked her neediness ( a contradiction ; if anxiety was a person, she would sock them in the throat... punch them straight in the nose and give them a taste of their own medicine ). When Rory sees Topher with that smile of his and hears his voice, time slows down enough for her to catch up to it. There isn’t panic and if it persisted, it died down until it was the smallest of all knots in her stomach. He keeps her from crying out, from screaming out of exhaustion and frustration — she hoped to everything holy that Topher got the best of what the world still had. “If that’s what you want to do, then I’m all in! Finally, I can get back there with ACTUAL shit to prove that I wasn’t just... wandering around like a lost puppy.” It was true though, she just liked to deny it. 

“Maybe we could still get the radio station to play it — or I could ask Nadja since I’m feeling like her bar needs a little more... huh, I don’t know... like, life...?” The chances of such things were slim to nothing. If Nadja wouldn’t hold her hand despite the number of requests— if it took her quite a time until Rory finally convinced her to hand over something stronger than ORANGE JUICE — then a mixtape by a nineteen year old would have a better home in her garbage cans. “You know, I tried doing that. The meditation thing.” Topher seemed like the right person to talk to about her... situation, the BIG PROBLEM that gnawed at her every time she thought back to Noah, most especially. “I need it a lot and I’ve been avoiding it but I don’t know how you like, just... do it SO WELL. Like, how do you not get distracted?” She almost laughed, smiling softly. It was disrupted by a frown as she nodded to his words, “Jeez. I hope you get better soon, Topher. That sounds like hell.” 

Winningsomeone’s trust was hard and it definitely didn’t involve insulting them. Sadly, sometimes he was unable to shut his mouth especially when he was telling the truth.Stating the obvious was an annoying habit but if no one else wanted to do it,Ares was ready to take one for the team. He was not really sure why they gaveher that job, she seemed useless to him. However, he needed to win her trusttoo. If she was the gossip girl around, he was definitely going to get introuble. He raised his eyebrows, a confused look on his face. “Excuse me? Whywould you say that?” No one could blame the people who didn’t understand themeaning of their words, so Ares decided to be one of them. Pretending was somuch easier than being he these days. “ At least we have coffee.” He shrugged,his eyes still focused on the girl’s figure.

This brought back memories from high school —- Rory could pretend that she was not one of the popular kids, that she was not looked towards as the model student of St. Kateri Tekakwitha but she was. The girl could spot which clique you might belong to and albeit there were mistakes, they were minimal. Ares? Rory reminded him of the boys of their neighbouring school: acting as though they were better than everyone else even though they weren’t, secrets hidden underneath letterman jackets of whatever sport they were glorified for. They always were glorified — and perhaps Ares was nothing like that but Rory stared at him, scratched her nose. “You look just like one; it makes me not trust you.” The coffee remark, though? Rory rolled her eyes, “You still had pretty shitty coffee before this. American coffee has always been lacking.” 

FIVE TEXTS MY MUSE DIDN’T SEND TO YOURS, AND ONE THAT THEY DID // @prditflorem

FAILED TO SEND TO ↣ katerina w : this cute lil cherub from one of thos e vintage stores reminded me of u and i m buying it. cant say no now

DRAFTED TEXT TO ↣ katerinaaaa : i think u’d like a dog? do u like dogs? do u want dogs? we have so much in the shelter who ened homes and i feel like it would make u less lonely?? r u lonely? shit sorry that was too muc

DRAFTED TEXT TO ↣ kattie da badie : i want to hang out with u but i dont want to stick myself in ur life when ive only known u for like eight months !!! u might have friends !! but i want to be ur  s !!! why am is o clngY 

FAILED TO SEND TO ↣ love of my life? : my bf broke up with me and i was wondering if u would liike … let me in if i went on the earlies t plane to australia and just hug u for ten thousand hours 

FAILED TO SEND TO ↣ sunshine ! : i love u kat .. but pls …. pls stop sending me abba lyrics.. i am DISTRAUGHT every time. 

FIVE TEXTS MY MUSE DIDN’T SEND YOURS, AND ONE THAT THEY DID // @bencficent

FAILED TO SEND ↣ emergency contact (1) : a WASP bit me … seND an ambuLnacen..

DRAFTED TEXT TO ↣ gwen stacy  : hey, is it possible that u can.. u know, come over to my school and teach sex ed instead. nothing in this class is ever discussed properly and im worried for all the niners coming in with like…. 0 ideas of life 

FAILED TO SEND ↣ gwen stacy : im having heart palpiations cos i saw this dog from the shelter this morning and the y adoPTED HER AND I WANTED IT SO BAD i m angry ! 

FAILED TO SEND ↣ mom : the school thinks that you and callum are my parents. its too late to back out now, just pretend. i love u. i’ll bring home pasta. 

DRAFTED TEXT TO ↣ mom : did i ever tell u about katie pryzbylewski? like, i know im not supposed to call other girls bitches but i fucking hate her so much gwen it kills me that ppl thnk sheS soOOO nice when shes literally not? she’s a BULLY and refuses to suffer consequences that she’s called on hERSELF and im so tired of her ! im so sick of it ! she’s not even that funny !!!!! 

Relaxing had never been much of an issue for the blonde, but now getting herself into that mindset was like a grueling task. It meant focusing too much on herself and that was not at all her favourite thing to do. A small smile of her own dotted her lips as the familiar girl began to approach. She always had time for Rory – and if she didn’t, well, she would make it. A light shrug touched Delilah’s shoulders. “I will be okay.” She scooted along on the rock slightly and patted the space next to her. “I miss you too. You always seem busy; I mean, we both always seem busy.”

A soft smile was the permanent mark that Delilah’s presence and words left on the younger girl ( though the question of its permanence was ever present and real.... ), slow and seemingly calculated steps towards her friend. “Yeah. There’s just been... so many things that I’m meant to be doing and you’re meant to be doing. It’s hard.” What else was hard? It was coping with how empty her bedroom is but she forced this feeling down – away from Delilah. “The only thing that makes me feel better is knowing that you’re still around, you know. Even if I can’t see you everyday.” 

rey wasn’t good at reading people ( it may be in correlation that rey couldn’t READ well either but that was beside the point ). from body language to facial expression and even right down to the vocal tone, he couldn’t pick up cues if his life depended on it. unfortunately, in this day and age, his life usually depended on it. his head tilted to the side as she walked closer to his rooftop. he shifted his arms so that his elbows met with his knees as one fist went to rest underneath his chin. her words needed a bit of time to absorb with him– simply because he was trying his best to tread the water and he STILL couldn’t decipher the right emotions being conveyed. 

“so you played wii a lot, then??” were the first words that managed to fumble past his lips. he wasn’t sure if he knew where he was going with this– or if he was planning on going anywhere at all. “didn’t have a wii before all this happened. barely know anything about it. heard a lot of stories about it though. like mario kart??” rey knew mario; he remembered gameboys before he was sent into the cage to fight. he remembered the nintendo 64; he had one hooked up to his old tv that he’d constantly get kicked off of by his older cousins because ‘he wasn’t old enough’. the boy then furrowed his brow, a thought rising to the surface like a bubble in a pond. “so if you’re shit and i’m shit at swinging golf clubs, are you really in a place to tell me that i’m shit at it, too?? because sounds like you aren’t.”

“what?” she thinks of the millions reasons as to why one would be lacking in wii anecdotes, her mind working like a machine as the metal whirred in time with her THINKING. rory has always been curious and sometimes, it was what made her so easily... intolerable, difficult to handle, hard to take seriously. the bitterness in which she bit her tongue down on was an eruption that this survivor was undeserving of but brown eyes stared, glaring. “did you not have friends who had them? that you could play with?” it was a bit too personal, but she asked anyway. “or did you not have friends either?” rory wanted to PRY ; when did she not? but this boy was the first of others that she had attempted to know — he seemed like he would talk and rory was bored. 

then she heard something, head turning to look at where the noise might’ve come from. a wrinkled nose in the air before the question settled in her mind — and if only she could silence the immediate KILL BILL sirens that followed right after it. ( this, of course, were all for the DRAMATICS ; but the feelings were true ) rory turned back to him with a raised brow, “i’m in a place to tell you that you’re a shitty golfer because i, at least, know LITTLE enough to fake it. i played wii.” she rolled her eyes, “yeah? well fuck me because you’re not in the place to take constructive criticism at this day and age when you’re probably going to die tomorrow.” 

“Okay, big boy, just where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Nadja shouldered the large drunk guy back from the door. “Do I look like fucking Ma Joad to you? The dustbowl is so far from my fucking thing, so you’re just going to have to sit here and play goddamn nice until those dead fuckers make it through the great depression.” Though he heaved under the weight of several more sheets to the wind, the man didn’t protest much. Drunks were impulsive, but not superhuman–Nadja knew that better than anybody. As he slumped back into one of the booths of Los Abuelos ( & Scavengers too ! ), 

Nadja lit a cigarette–so much for the air quality she was fighting for–and turned to the patron on her right. “Ordinary fuckin’ people, am I right?” The rhetorical reference was punctuated by the flick of her zippo. A long exhale followed, and she imagined the smoke was all the stress that knotted and clawed inside her stomach ( a trick Rosario had taught her ). Through the corner of her eye, Nadja stole a glance back at the survivor, a smirk growing on her face with the taste of another drag. “You need a drink or are you actually staring daggers into my beautiful fucking cheekbones for fun?”

She kept her eyes trained on the drink before her, fidgeting. There were too little things in life today that could drown out your sorrows — and she had yet to ask the bartender for something stronger than orange juice ( not the best way to describe something when she hadn’t had a sip of orange juice in a while ; the thing had become synonymous to.... to, what was it? leggero ) Rory played with it for a while before, sooner or later, succumbing to the temptation to add stronger. Tricks picked up by a capo who carried whisky in his inside jacket pocket. Palms became fists as she dug her nails deep into her own skin, erasing any trace of FORTUNE that could be told. Her attention was brought towards where she had come from — the tall Amazonian was confronting some guy, references to what she can assume were flicks of her days as a teen meaning nothing to Rory. 

She caught their eyes, Rory’s widening slightly as she shook her head tentatively. There was nothing to be afraid of here. If it happened, the girl could easily slip between the bar owner’s legs and run as fast as her legs would allow. ( at least.... that was what she liked to believe and HOPED to happen if it came down to it ) “Well, yeah. That’s what I’m here for.” She said, shrugging slightly. “I agree, though. You’ve got really nice cheekbones. I’m a little disappointed in myself for just noticing it now.” She gave the other a smile before nodding. “Like, actually – you’ve got super nice cheekbones.” 

FIVE TEXTS MY MUSE DIDN’T SEND TO YOURS, AND ONE THAT THEY DID // @whitcshcll

FAILED TO SEND ↣ stronzo : my friends think ur hot and i want u to NEVER COME NEAR ME AGAIN. ure a ruiner of all female friendships. 

FAILED TO SEND ↣ stronzo : can u like, answer ur goddamn phone? i will blow up ur voicemail if u don’t answer in the next ten seconds. this is important, u fuck. 

DRAFTED TEXT TO ↣ rey : why are u always pissing me off? i get it… math isnt important to you but if u say something about mathletes again, i’ll bury u with ur regrets and frustrations in life. i’ll do it. 

DRAFTED TEXT TO ↣ rey : do ur parents even call u ponyboy? do u even have parents? have i ever asked u about ur family life at all? ure like a stranger… this makes me uncomfortable

FAILED TO SEND ↣ coglione : i stole one of ur jackets. i lost it… maybe on purpose. theres no telling. 

rory stands aside. her arms are crossed against her chest and she’s emulating the short-tempered mother from a year or three ago that she keeps telling herself NOT to forget. she wants to say more ; maybe a warning? a plea? whatever it is, it’s forgotten as she hears skyler’s voice pipe up again. “plastered? well, you know what that means.” there’s a smile there somewhere there though it’s hard to tell whether or not it’s true. either way, she brings up an idea. “check his pockets, maybe we’ll find something FUN.” they always do. in the case of careless drunkards like this one? it’s fairly easy to steal, to pick pocket them. she steps back even further when the mention of piss comes up. “i told you not to pick him up. he may not be sensitive but he’s gross. what if he’s carrying some DISEASE? LICE? you know we can’t afford to find ways to get rid of that shit.” where are all these assumptions coming from? “sky. come on, you’re ruining my plans!” 

FIVE TEXTS MY MUSE DIDN’T SEND YOURS, AND ONE THAT THEY DID // @switchblcdes 

FAILED TO SEND ↣ amazonian sorceress : my bf just broke up with me an d i just ate three tubs of ice cream .. ive never wanted to kill another man as much as i want to rn. 

FAILED TO SEND ↣ tol, snarky and a bitch : 20 bucks n a tequila shot if i can get in ur bar tonight. my friends cancelled on me :( 

DRAFTED TEXT TO ↣ tol, snarky and a bitch : insert excuse here just to hang out?

DRAFTED TEXT TO ↣ nadia : remember that time someone did some damage on one of ur bathroom stalls? yikes… wish i could tell u who did that one….

FAILED TO SEND ↣ nadia : u know that feeling of like, getting food stuck between ur teeth? sometimes u remind me of that :) 

“Is that right? The whole undead thing has definitely put up some roadblocks.” Not for Elliot, not really. She’d been honing her stick poke tattoo skills for a while, dead raiders making the best canvas’ for her artwork. A little more practice and she’d be dolling out tattoos for more food and drink than she could think of. “How did I find myself in Cheyenne…” Elliot mused on that point for a moment. Usually children got the more fairytale style retelling with added dragons and princesses and dramatic plot twists, but she decided to give Ms Damiani the benefit of the doubt. “First place I passed through with decently attractive people.” It was really the first place she’d passed through with actual survivors who seemed to be doing okay, but that answer seemed a little too honest. Her preferred means of conversations were flirty and light to keep away from such horrid things like the truth and actual human emotion. 

“Appreciate that, but you’re a little on the young side for me.” Elliot was merely voicing the idea that the young woman in front of her had the face of a child. Mostly a compliment, but no doubt a let down for her up close and personal company; though Elliot could always be persuaded. A darling little face never did have much trouble with an artist like Elliot, one who just wanted to take in beauty wherever she found it. “If you find pistachios around this pit be my fuckin’ guest.” When was the last time she’d had any kind of luxury like that? Definitely before the outbreak, but even then she’d didn’t pay all that much mind to her diet. Now what she consumed had to fit into her backpack and it had to last as best it could, meaning that canned foods and proteins bars were her staples. “What, you think I’d look this good without slathering myself in snake venom?” For some dainty little teen the girl did seem to know a little more than was probably common knowledge about the black market. That intrigued Elliot, but she put it down to the idea that people her age tended to live on the internet. Her ‘knowledge’ was probably from a shitty Buzzfeed article. 

“Ah.. I don’t think so. It’s a family thing. Heirloom type deal.” Elliot didn’t care to offer up any more details, nor did she want to pretend like she had any clue as to how deep Ada’s connection ran with that sword. And naturally the last thing she wanted to go doing was sending some youngster to Ada asking to play with her sword. “Jaime Lannister?” She could feel it was a reference but she’d never been go at those. When traveling before the outbreak TV and pop culture tended to take a back seat. The artist had been too engrossed in her work to even hope to keep up to date with who was missing hands. 

Roadblocks seemed like such a lacking word, but there was no time for any other form of either language that she could speak and explain. Instead, she sat there — like the teen she was, surrounded by trinkets that her grubby hands could find — listening, eyeing the other survivor. There was an odd gleam in them, refusing to admit her thanks in not killing her AND keeping her company. It wasn’t so bad. “Yeah? I feel that... once met someone who convinced me that God still existed.” ( A JOKE — if nonna heard it, Rory would like to apologize with tears in her eyes. ) There were a few and in the short few seconds of her pause, flashes of startling blue eyes and a smirk ; blonde hair failing to hide a grimace at the sight of a broken book ; a stillness that was only made comforting with a soft smile ; her best friend’s laugh. “I totally get you.” It seemed... something a little too distracting, desecrating — interrupting thoughts like that by rambling on and on. She bit down on her lip, packing her newly acquired weapon inside the bag that the raiders had tried to kill her for. 

Rory could only grin. “Yeah? It’s a good thing, really. I’ll be fifty but still look like I’m entering my early or mid-forties.” It was an estimate ; she couldn’t really know if she would even reach that age. In a way... she hoped so. There was hope that lingered about, that still believed that things would turn out okay... She wanted to be there for it, even for just a second. Pink lips curled in a smirk as Rory glanced back at Elliot, scanning her — scrutinizing, examining ; it was an excuse to really take them in. “I don’t think you used enough then. You think you look good?” Deadpanned, she shrugged and said, “Eh.” It was interesting though, how Elliot knew even the littlest of information like that. It was either because they were smart or they snooped around. A blend of both was something that Rory was aiming to be... particularly skilled at. “A family thing. Ah, okay. I get it. I get that.” That was the truth and perhaps, the most honest one as of yet. “Yeah, man. Jaime Lannister — from Game of Thrones? He got his hand cut off in, like, season three. I wish I knew what happened to him... he wasn’t a really good person but he knew how to like,  handle a sword and I’m just wondering, you know...” She fiddled with the knick knacks she’d found. A packet of mints, rattling inside its metallic box as she shook it around idly. “Anyway... you got a camp or something?”  

Patrollingaround the camp was the only activity which worked as an excuse not to engagein meaningless conversations. Sure, if there was something he would actuallygain from a person, he could be their best friend. But listening about theirlife memoirs was just not his thing. He didn’t really care if they missed theirgoldfish or useless friends. It was equally foolish. So patrolling was really agreat excuse. He pretended to be so focused on the task at hand, that they didn’treally bother him. His time was precious and not everyone deserved to take awayfrom it. When he thought he would be unbothered, he heard a voice. He eyed the girl,the expression on his face blank. “I will be here until the morning.  You can go to the bathroom, drink a coffee.Take as much time as you need. It’s better if I handle this alone anyway.” Hewas not implying he was better than her but come on – he was trained in themilitary and probably the only thing which she did to qualify for  patrol washide and seek.

There was something about the other patrol that made Rory feel uncomfortable – and that was seemingly more of an understatement. It wasn’t just his name ( after the god of WAR? if there was something that Rory knew about names, it was that sometimes... they were fitting. they could be SPOT ON. ) Normally, she would feel some sort of awkwardness between herself and the other campmates — but with Ares? It was entirely different ; her skin crawled, her blood boiled. The girl rolled her eyes, “You’re incredibly more of an ass than I originally thought you would be.” They have only talked once... TODAY. Rory didn’t have enough to base such an opinion on any facts ; but she liked to think that she was RIGHT. “I don’t know where I would get coffee anyways — the ones we have are shit.” It wasn’t her fault that she was raised to find Italian cappuccino. 

 jonathan lacked  many  things  and  without  a  doubt  one  of  those  things  was  sympathy.  he  listened  to  the  young  girl  ATTENTIVELY,  even  going  as  far  as  nodding  his  head  as  she  spoke  to  prove  that  he  was  listening  but  once  her  words  had  come  to  an  end  he  wasn’t  EXACTLY  sure  how  he  should  approach  the  situation.  he  couldn’t  relate  to  her,  he  couldn’t  tell  her  everything  was  going  to  be  OKAY  because  he  didn’t  know  what  it  was  like  to  GROW  UP  in  the  apocalypse  at  nineteen.  nor  did  he  witness  his  daughter  reach  her  teen  years,  thus  he  was  at  a  loss  to  handle  the  situation.  but  if  there  was  one  thing  he  knew  FOR  SURE,  it  was  to  not  treat  her  like  a  child  —  possibly  because  she  wasn’t  speaking  like  one.  he  swallowed,  straightened  his  posture,  and  kept  his  eyes  on  the  horizon  line. 

 ❝  you  can  only  WONDER  how  long  they’d  last  then.  ❞  he  responded  while  his  hands  slid  into  the  pockets  of  his  jeans.  he  titled  his  head  slightly  and  the  mention  of  the  controlled  OBLIVION  everyone  was  guilty  of  considering  in  a  world  like  this  one.  he’d  be  lying  if  he  didn’t  admit  to  himself  that  maybe  he  did  CONSIDER  ending  his  own  life.  it  was  hard,  it  fucking  sucked,  but  somehow  he managed —  that’s  all  it  was  now  MANAGING  IT.  ❝  not  to  shit  on  your  ideals  but,  i  don’t  think  so.  ❞  as  he  took  a  deep  breath  his  shoulders  relaxed.  his  ebony  hued  eyes  trailed  past  the  horizon  line  and  RETURNED  to  the  young  girl.  ❝  and  i’m  not  going  to  spoon-feed  you  some  BULLSHIT  about  hope  or  how  there’s  ALWAYS  a  silver  lining  because —-  because  you  gotta  find  that  on  your  own.  ❞  his  hands  escaped  from  inside  his  pockets  and  she  shrugged,  exposing  his  palms  to  the  sun.  ❝  but  just  focus  on  being  a  kid,  alright  ??  someone’s  always  gonna  be  there  to  make  sure  you’re  safe.  i’m  sure  of  that.  ❞    

there were too many instances in which rory found herself thinking about it. ‘ IT ’ being the idea that there had to be a better alternative, a better option for survival that didn’t involve waking up every day and killing walkers and running from them. perhaps it was the anxiety talking — in the presence of most survivors, she was ATTENTIVE and tough and far too energetic. with this man? she was more than wary. there was nothing wrong in wanting to be safe despite how well one contradicted themselves about it. rory decided to let the topic go. for the sake of this conversation, he was right... and more. he let her think for herself and she glanced up at him as if he had all the answers in the world. “have you found yours? that hope thing you’re telling me that i have to find?” 

focus on being a kid, he said. “what’s that?” like a whip cracking in the air, laughter turning up out of nowhere. rory wouldn’t truly know what it was like to be a kid — the kind that she thought he meant ; the innocent and lovable thing, whose cares in the world included play and finding candy. protection by some other figure touched a nerve, more than she thought it would, a disappointed jerk of her head at him. “they’re gone.” factual. “they’re not here anymore. and the last two who do already have enough in their hands. they have EACH OTHER.” that was important for her to say. it was important for her to remember that none of them were alone, they had each other. it hurt to admit it but that was the first step to healing ; it was the first step to being okay with the world’s injustices. “so... as much as i’d like to be a kid... i don’t think that it’s a SMART CHOICE.”