* little / sparrow !

“Well, I suppose ——?” It came out more like a question, far from the statement he had intended it to be. But he didn’t dare to make another comment about it. It might appear rude and his mother always said; ‘Be mindful of others and they’ll do the same!’. He watched her as she joined his side and another chuckle left his lips. “French —-” he repeated, clearly humored. He reached down for a pebble that was at his foot, tossing it against the wall of the shop. “It’s  BEAU .” he reminded her and lifted his eyes to meet hers. “What about yours?”

rory   scrutinizes   him   before   murmuring   softly,   “you   don’t   talk   much…?   is   that   your   thing?”   oh,   she   doesn’t   want   to   seem   rude…   but   she   has   met   people   whose   type   is   NOT   TALKING.   “it’s   fine,   you   can   always   tell   me   to   shut   up   and   i’ll   shut   up.”   half   of   that   is   the   truth,   but   rory   aims   to   make   friends.   “beau.   see?   that’s   french.”   she   says,   smiling.   “beautiful,   yeah?   mine’s   rory.   it’s   irish,   i   think.”   the   brunette   shrugs   slightly,   “something   to   do   with   having   red   hair.”   

diego wonders if she’s capable of looking past her own E G O ( ah, a difficult task for any full-grown human being ) and see the cold, hard facts. she’d found the place. she’d done nothing to protect it. she left it untended to. now the stash, whatever it had, was gone. that was the truth. the REALITY. it might wound her self-importance to admit failure but the verities are those. rory damiani can hide from sincerity all she desires – it’ll change NOTHING. and diego’s playing her dwindling self-esteem for all it’s worth ( and the worth of it ? debatable at best ). ❝ monopolizing has nothing to do with your lack of consideration and disregard for our camps’ needs. do you think holding a big gun makes you something special ? it doesn’t. not if you’ve got no sustenance without it and – CLEARLY – there isn’t much. ❞ diego tilts his head, watches the ire build up within her. poorly suppressed. POORLY SUPPRESSED and ready to burst; a balloon with too much air in it. it could P O P at any second. ❝ now you’re just being ridiculous. ❞ what did she expect ? that he TEACH her ? please – it’s enough that he’s giving her this much time to begin with.

she   may   be   hard-headed,   but   when   the   time   comes,   rory   damiani   is   patient.   hatred   brews   at   the   pit   of   her   stomach,   threatens   to   spill   through   dry   lips   as   diego   hurls   word   after   word   with   no   remorse.   she   has   been   put   in   her   place   before   —   THAT   ISN’T   NEW   —   but   it   isn’t   fair   for   reprimands   should   be   coming   from   him.   “oh,   didn’t   you   hear?”   she   starts   through   gritted   teeth,   clenching   and   unclenching   fists   that   only   grow   warmer   by   the   second.   rory   is   hard-headed   in   her   anger,   aided   by   patience   that   will   see   to   it   that   diego   is   the   one   who   loses   this…   game.   “being   ridiculous   is   something   that   i’m   a   NATURAL   at.   you’ll   just   have   to   get   used   to   it   —   but   i   bet   you’ve   got   something   else   to   say   about   that,   too,   huh?”   rory   takes   a   step   towards   him,   and   sneers.   “you   do   this   a   lot?   talk   to   little   girls   like   you’re   their   father?   you   get   off   on   this   or   something?”   

          ‘ only if i have to, ’ and that comes out as more of a warning than an admittance. ‘ fort point isn’t the biggest fan of hotshots. ’ he crosses his arms, lets out a soft snort. ‘ call it mutual concern. if you bleed out from a broken nose i’m gonna be pissed, ‘n i don’t know how to reset bones. might have to wait ‘til we get back to drisco if it’s too bad. ’ they’re not far, now, maybe a mile or two. but the sun is setting. he watches it make its way across the sky, inch by inch, feels worry start to make itself known in his gut. the infected seem to always be more active at night, and they’re harder to see than in the day.

she   tilts   her   head,   curious,   like   a   little   bird   left   wondering   if   the   figure   before   her   is   a   friend   or   a   foe.   ALMOST   FRIEND   is   what   their   camp’s   alliance   says…   and   god,   does   she   try   to   push   it   so   far   until   ‘   almost   ’   dissipates   like   the   fog   that   rolls   over   the   bay   on   early   mornings.   “yeah,   no.”   the   young   woman   says   gravely.   “i   get   it.”   a   raider   camp,   what   else   is   she   supposed   to   expect?    she   bites   her   tongue,   pressing   the   bridge   of   her   nose   for   a   long   second   before   tending   to   injury   to   her   knuckles   this   time.   “if   you   get   me   there   alive,   maybe   we   can   give   you   a   prize.”   she   chuckles   in   the   midst   of   bandaging   her   hand.   “as   a   gift   of   gratitude   for   not   abandoning   their   sniper   on   the   side   of   the   road   because   some   asshole   thought   it’d   be   smart   to   swipe   something   from   her.”  

“amazing,” delilah responded to the girl’s story with hearty laughter. moments like these had the woman almost forgetting the disastrous ways in which the world had changed. she supposed it was all down to the people and situations one put themselves in. you wouldn’t be able to escape it completely, but there were ways to edge around it until living could seem somewhat normal again. this would forever be delilah’s goal unless something changed in the future. even despite hoping for it, she still somehow doubted change would be coming anytime soon. a dreamer she may be, she wasn’t entirely delusional. “well, you’ve sorta’ tempted me now! can’t just come around here bearing the goods and expect me not to give in.” dark eyes sparkled. “whatever, we should just have a full blown feast now.” she grinned. “fancy it?”

“well,   you   know   me.”   rory   shrugs   with   a   hint   of   a   smirk   pulling   at   the   corners   of   her   lips,   carefully   tearing   open   the   twinkie   wrapper.   “i   like   to   tantalize.   it’s   part   of   the   game.”   though,   now,   there’s   a   little   more   to   it.   it’s   not   so   easy   to   buy   the   image   of   a   young,   impressionable   girl   on   her   lonesome   as   it   would   have   been   the   years   previous.   it’s   a   game   that   requires   more   than   a   smile,   indeed.   “a   full   blown   feast?   with…”   she   eyes   the   treats   in   their   hands,   and   into   the   box.   “twinkies,   a   bottle   of   cherry   cola   and   some…   vegetable   canned   soup?”   rory   laughs,   “that’s   DEFINITELY   a   feast   if   i   ever   saw   one.   though,   you   can’t   blame   me   if   we   run   out   of   good   stuff   for   our   birthdays.”  

rory likes to do things like this, she’s learned. be clever with her words, and say things that might not be completely true. because lena knows, of course, that she hadn’t said not to clean - but it’s not malicious. her family always taught her that anything other than the truth is malicious, but rory isn’t like that at all. “too late,” she echoes, the corners of her lips curling. “there’s no schedules, you know. silly. we could only ever return at exactly the right time.” it’s quite a dramatic change from the life she once knew, when her days were very strict and her responsibilities were much more vital. it’s tempting, how wide her life could be. “unless we never returned at all. we might keep going to different places, straight in one direction. if we went to the north pole, or even the south pole, the sky and the stars would rotate around us.”

an   exaggerated   pout   crosses   her   features   at   lena’s   response,   but   rory   has   more   time   in   her   hands   now   more   than   ever.   “okay,   then,   well   – where   do   you   think   we   should   start?”   she’s   disheartened   by   this   failed   hunt,   and   it   would   need   more   than   a   little   threat   from   the   hotel   that   could   convince   her   to   do   any   more.   and   she   wonders   if   she   would   be   able   to   win   an   argument   with   lena   — lena   who   speaks   like   this,   lena   who   keeps   rory   on   her   toes   and   lets   her   mind   wander   to   places,   wondering   about   her   endlessly.   it’s   not   uncommon   for   the   young   brunette   to   do   so.   if   anything,   it’s   become   a   habit.   “do   you   think   we   could   make   it   to   poles?   maybe   santa’s   got   his   own   little   quarantined   place   that   we   could   stay   at.”   she   smiles   at   the   thought,   “it’d   be   christmas   forever.” 

Though he shouldn’t be, a humored chuckle left his lips. “It’s the end of the world, people are  SCRAMBLING  to get things to  LIVE  and you’re concerned about the mess they’ve created?” Perhaps it was wrong to find her frustration silly, but Beau did. Humanity was desperate to stay relevant. Or perhaps he was being too kind —— a feature his father shook his head upon. “Fine by me —–” Beau was already making home on an abandoned milk crate, sitting his butt on it’s holed surface.

“as   my   zia   would   say   –”   the   mere   thought   of   her   aunt   brings   PAINFUL   memories,   all   of   which   her   stomach   responds   to   immediately   tightening   a   knot   that   causes   rory   to   visibly   grimace…   one   that’s   forced   to   leave   as   soon   as   it   came,   as   rory   smiles   at   beau,   regardless.   “–   you   could   never   go   wrong   with   tidying   up   even   just   a   little   bit.   though,   she   was   a   bit   of   like,   a   SUPER   NICE   lady.   she’d   say   things   like,   ‘   think   about   the   people   who   will   come   after   you!   ’   and   stuff,   so…”   she   shrugs,   kicking   a   few   things   from   the   floor   before   sitting   down,   facing   the   other   survivor   as   she   brought   her   rifle   to   rest   across   her   lap.   “what’d   you   say   your   name   was   again?   it’s   french,   i   know   that   much.”

c h i l d i s h , indeed. the minute his criticism and DISAPPROVAL enter the air, she turns into nothing short of a little girl who can’t handle being put in her place. her immaturity is not his concern, though. diego ortega does not make other people’s issues his own unless they directly – or INDIRECTLY – affect him. rory’s foolishness ? clearly affects him. he’s wasted time and energy on this POINTLESS escapade and has nothing to show for it. all she offers are excuses. ❝ it didn’t OCCUR to you that maybe you should’ve done something to stop such a thing ? for fuck’s sake, take a look at your surroundings. everyone’s trying to shit higher than their own ass and here you are leaning down to pick up whatever they drop. grow up. ❞ he considers this one of his kinder moments; offering advice free of charge to a child who will more than likely not TAKE IT. her loss. 

she   likes   to   think   that   she   has   a   tough   exterior   — certainly,   it’s   much   tougher   of   an   exterior   that   her   mother   would   like   her   to   believe.   now,   mia   santacruz   is   nothing   but   a   memory   …   and   if   rory   was   a   kinder   daughter,   she   could   find   a   way   to   honour   her   by   apologizing,   by   allowing   diego   to   continue   talking   to   her   LIKE   THAT.   but   that’s   too   much   to   expect,   isn’t   it?   “to   stop   what,   exactly?   it’s   not   like   we   have   a   monopoly   on   every   single   part   of   this   town,   testa   di   cazzo.”   she   hates   looking   at   him,   and   there’s   a   part   of   her   that   wants   to   resort   to   violence.   if   only   it   was   that   easy   to   settle   this   by   striking   a   punch   but   rory   thinks   that   diego   does   not   deserve   that   much   of   an   effort.   there’s   something   else   she   can   do,   and   it   could   be   WORSE.   she’ll   opt   for   that.   “how   about   it   then,   hm?   since   you’ve   already   started   your   constructive   criticism   bullshit,   how   do   you   think   i   should’ve   stopped   people   from   looting   this   place   before   us?”   she   asks   sarcastically,   full   of   spite   for   someone   so   small.   “should   i   have   put   a   sign   that   said,   ‘   oh   sorry,   NOT   AVAILABLE   for   anyone   except   rory   and   diego   ’   ?”

‘ christ almighty, ’ he says, and not much else. the store is empty. dead. they’ve got nothing. he runs a hand through his hair, looking at rory with narrowed eyes. ‘ you’re sure this was the place? if i go back empty-handed nobody’s gonna be happy. ’ some days being ambassador means sitting and smoking and negotiating. some days it means following a teenager halfway across sanfran to an empty store in hopes of finding sparse supplies. ‘ it couldn’t be anywhere else? ’

“nobody’s   really   happy   either   way,   if   you   think   about   it.”   now   is   not   the   time   to   think   of   the   much   bigger   picture,   and   rory   finds   a   part   of   herself   that   feels   the   distasteful   guilt   brewing   inside.   she   mindlessly   frowns   at   the   thought   of   being   the   reason   for   this   unhappiness   …   to   say   that   rory   doesn’t   like   being   the   cause   of   the   blame   is   true,   and   her   adrenaline   kicks   in   for   SELFISH   reasons.   “there’s   other   places   – not   far   from   here   – but   look,   if   we   really   want   to   get   home   with   something,   i   think   we   keep   going.”   she   says   it   with   such   certainty,   it’s   almost   difficult   to   ignore   that   she’s   looking   at   him   with   pleading   eyes.   “for   another   hour   or   so.   it’s...   we’re   not   even   halfway   the   day   yet,   right?   so…”  

aesthetic theme ask ! 

beaches : if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why? 

“i’ve always liked platinum blonde,” a smirk pulls at the sides of her mouth. “just above the shoulders –” fortunately, rory has never had to dye her hair before. in desperate need of disguises, it had always been easier to her hair and her heart to wear wigs. “– like a bob cut? is that what’s it called?”

storms : you can only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why? 

the thought of seeing only one person for the rest of her life is … criminal. she hates the idea of it, and she wrinkles her nose at the question. “first, i’d rather listen to one song for the rest of my life.” she nods, “second, i’d choose the most iconic song in all of human history … toxic by the princess of pop herself, britney spears.” 

delilah had good friends in the wharf camp, but she couldn’t help but wish rory was one of them. maybe it was a little silly, considering they still didn’t know each other all that well but she supposed some people just connected. she was not one to stop fate doing what it will. “that is certainly one great find,” she confirmed with a nod, taking the bottle from the other girl and looking at it with something close to awe. she thought it sweet how rory had thought of her while coming upon the item. “this is like, one of my favourite drinks ever, you know. are you sure you wanna open it now, not save it for a special occasion?” she wasn’t sure what kind of special occasions they would be getting, but still.

seeing   the   expression   on   delilah’s   face   only   brought   warmth   to   rory’s   heart.   “that   look   on   your   face?   that’s   totally   what   i   looked   like   when   jesse   and   i   found   twinkies   the   other   day.”   recalling   the   events   only   leads   to   rory’s   realization   that   she   had   brought   more   treats   than   she   should   have.   her   grin   grows   wider,   “i   also   brought   some   of   those   — see,   i   kept   thinking   about   how   i   still   had   them   even   after   they   stopped   manufacturing   them   in   canada   because   of   that   bakery   but   like,   these   are   pretty   authentic.”   she   sits   down   next   to   her   friend,   shifting   only   slightly   to   take   one   of   the   twinkies   from   the   box   to   show.   “see?”   she’s   left   to   WONDER   if   there   is   any   special   occasion,   and   one   does   come   to   mind.   “i   mean,   there’s   my   birthday?   but   do   you   really   want   to   wait   that   long?”  

     “ what the fuck are you talkin’ about —  look at all these little debbies scattered around here, ”  he’s disgusted by the fact that she could overlook such a delicacy, despite the fact that the majority of the boxes appear to be emptied of their contents.  slinging the strap of the rifle in hand over his shoulder, his brow is narrowed with a small smirk shot back at rory as he steps forward to inspect the discovered snacks.  shuffling a few of the boxes around with a nudge from his boots, a couple wrapped treats spill out onto the floor from an opened box he kicked.  “ here we go, alright, let’s see … ” he kneels down to scoop them up, tossing one over in her direction as he straightens up again. “ how long’s it been since you had a twinkie? ”

it   doesn’t   occur   to   her   how   she   has   clenched   her   jaw   upon   hearing   his   voice   — a   knee   jerk   reaction   at   the   reaction   she’s   been   given.   “there’s   nothing   here,   man.”   she   sounds   DEFEATED   (   as   she   should,   really   )   but   her   eyes   don’t   wander,   staring   at   jesse   and   watching   him   move   about.   this   place   is   empty   but   it’s   not   entirely   free   of   a   threat   …   right   now?   rory’s   not   stupid   …   jesse   is   a   threat,   whether   or   not   she   wants   to   believe   it.   “...   what   –”   an   object   being   thrown   at   her   direction   and   rory   scrambles   to   catch   it,   the   treat   …   almost   unrecognizable   for   how   long   it’s   been   since   the   last   time   she   had   seen   one   in   person.   “oh,   what   the   fuck?”   a   short   giggle   past   her   lips,   turning   the   twinkie   in   her   hands.   “these   things   got   banned   or   something   when   i   was   like,   fourteen.”   rory   looks   up   at   jesse   in   surprise.   “a   bakery   from   where   i’m   from   still   made   them   but   like,   this   shit’s   a   novelty   at   this   point.”   

her lips slowly formed a smile at rory’s joke. it was refreshing, made her even take her mind off of the situation in front of her, but the truth was she needed a cigarette- needed it more than her leather jacket. she was also tired of being cooped up in the fort. “une clope,” she replied, exaggerating her french accent as a small laugh tumbled out of her lips. she inched forward towards the back of the store to double check she didn’t miss anything in her first sweep. “nicorette- a sad excuse for curving cigarette cravings. let me put it this way, we find the cigarette you can keep my leather jacket-”

“une   clope.”   she   repeats   in   slight   imitation,   solely   out   of   habit.   rory   gives   the   store   a   last   once-over,   knowing   full   well   that   there   truly   is   nothing   else   here.   a   part   of   her   does   it   only   to   give   eloise   the   EASE   that   she’s   searching   for   — but   of   course,   she’s   guilty   for   not   having   cigarettes.   “so,   i’m   guessing   that   you’ve   tried   it   before   or…?”   the   younger   sniper   finds   herself   in   disbelief,   more   than   anything.   “your   leather   jacket?   you   SURE   about   that?”   a   smile   threatens   to   cross   her   features   though   —   she’d   appreciate   that,   even   if   she   wasn’t   a   leather   girl   herself.   “well,   there   was   that   other   convenience   store   we   passed   earlier.   did   you   see   that   one?   we   can   check   if   they   have   your   clopes.”

❝ oh sure,  blame it on the people. ❞ claude teases, twirling the knife in his hands with a smirk on his face. truthfully, he didn’t care that the scavengers got to the store first, he liked to have an excuse to get away from camp. they had at least managed to find a half empty box of cigarettes ; he had wasted no time lighting one up. ❝ who cares, right ? what’dya say we kill some time before heading out to another store. it won’t be dark for another two hours.❞

“who   else   am   i   supposed   to   blame,   then?”   she   talks   back   with   little   fear   for   the   consequences.   claude   is   far   easier   to   talk   to   than   other   deputies   or   sentinels,   and   this   is   one   of   those   times   where   rory   can   only   do   one   of   two   things:   roll   her   eyes   at   him   or   talk   back.   “two   hours   is   a   lot   of   time   to   waste   if   you   don’t   know   how   to   waste   it,   claude.   what   are   we   gonna   do?   sit   around   and   smoke   and   talk   about   the   GOOD   OLD   DAYS?”   she   starts   laughing.   “you   gonna   tell   me   all   about   how   life   was   like   when   you   were   a   kid   during   the   great   depression   or   something?”  

adjusting the gun strap on her shoulder, she glances around at the items strewn across the floor, mouth turned downward into a frown. from rory’s previous description of the place, she too had been expecting more variety. but it looks like it’s slim pickings now, and they didn’t come all this way for nothing. “ there’s always something, ” hannah murmurs, more to herself than to rory, as she kneels down to start rummaging. 

it   isn’t   that   hannah   makes   her   uncomfortable.   no,   hannah’s   fine   — but   it’s   MAKING FRIENDS   with   her   that   is   tough.   rory   wishes,   it’s   only   the   right   thing   to   do,   with   them   sharing   shelter   in   drisco.   she   stares   at   the   blonde   momentarily,   before   kneeling   down   to   start   searching   too.   “sorry,   hanners.”   rory   says,   rather   awkwardly.   “this   was   a   long   way   to   go,   but…   hey   –”   the   smallest   of   a   grin   on   her   lips.   “–   at   least   we   got   to   spend   time   together,   right?”  

     VIVIAN  WATCHES  HER  FOR  WHAT  MUST  FEEL  LIKE  SOME  TIME.   ‘  your  nose  is  bleeding.  ’  he  says,  voice  a  low  rumble  in  his  chest  —  viv  is  quick  to  pull  the  bandages  out,  crumpling  a  few  into  a  ball  and  passing  them  over.  he  doesn’t  know  how  well  the  infected  smell  blood,  or  even  the  living,  but  he’d  rather  not  end  up  taking  any  risks.  ‘  tip  your  head  back.  it’ll  stop  the  blood  faster.  we  can  take  five  minutes,  kid.  just  wait.  don’t  need  you  fainting  or  anything  like  that.  ’  a  cursory  glance  around  proves  his  theory  right  :  they’re  not  in  a  vulnerable  spot.  stopping  for  a  moment  won’t  do  them  too  much  harm,  so  long  as  they  pick  up  the  pace  afterwards.  ‘   the  hotel  ain’t  far.  ‘n  then  you  can  go  and  get  some  rest.  how’d  that  even  happen?  ’

bleeding?   oh,   right,   OF   COURSE   she   is   —   but   she   won’t   brag   about   at   this   point   in   time,   she   can’t   even   feel   anything   anymore.   that’s   not   right,   is   it?   “you   say   that   as   if   it   matters,”   rory’s   only   trying   to   be   as   …   casual   as   possible,   to   let   it   not   be   a   cause   of   worry   for   either   of   them.   but   she   takes   the   bandages   anyway,   tips   her   head   back   and   grunts   at   having   being   called   a   kid.   she’s   stopped   correcting   people   …   and   if   anything,   it   helps   with   fooling   them   anyways.   that,   she’s   learned   quite   well   enough   throughout   the   last   two   years.   what   she   hasn’t,   though,   is   how   to   explain   her   belligerence.   “how’d   this   happen?   why’re   you   asking?”   she   tilts   her   head   back   momentarily,   only   to   smirk   at   the   man,   teasingly   asking,   “you   gonna   tell   on   me?”  

delilah notes the familiar woman and the group of figures in the distance who were obviously making their way in to the wharf. the brunette visited quite regularly while bringing in supplies and that was how the two of them had met. it hadn’t been so long ago, though she could already say she was starting to like the other girl a lot. delilah always had room for more friends, and the blonde was eager to learn more about rory. “no way!” she grinned like an idiot. “of course i want one.”

rory   beams   wider   at   the   sight   of   delilah’s   smile,   an   infectious   glee   that   rory   wishes   that   she   had   back   at   drisco   —   certainly,   it   would   mean   that   having   to   visit   and   carry   supplies   to   the   wharf   constantly   with   the   others   would   mean   nothing   anymore.   the   brunette   balances   the   box   on   one   arm,   reaching   into   it   to   pull   out   a   bottle   of   cherry   cola.   “it   was   honestly   like,   a   super   lucky   day   for   me   when   i   found   this   –”   she   hands   it   to   delilah,   before   realizing   that   she   could   set   the   box   down   to   sit   next   to   her.   “–   and   i   knew   that   i   should   share   it   with   you.   i   honestly   just   got   reminded   of   you   and   i   grabbed   it   faster   than   i   possibly   thought   i   could.”