orphic hymns

@mxrtcm

“.. hey, eli,” she mumbles, touching his arm to further get his attention. “ya got a last name?” she’s taken an interest in this particular newbie in their survivor group and with good reason. not only do they seem to share that everett pale complexion and blonde hair, but.. “i used t'have a brother named eli. er– still do, i guess. i dunno.” not to mention his accent.. her suspicion isn’t exactly subtle, but she’s also trying not to get her hopes up. "wouldn’t happen to have a lost little sister named athena, would ya?“ it’s a joke.. and yet.. he does. 

Being around the other survivors... it wasn’t like he was walking around with other people. He felt like a dog, thrown into a horse corral. Waiting to be stomped by whoever he happened to piss off or spook. After all, he didn’t ‘join’ on the best terms. It was an impulsive, ‘let me say this to live another few weeks’ decision. And surely the ‘leaders’ he spoke to must have seen through it. It’s made him jumpy, ready to get the hell out of dodge-- all why he starts at her touch.

“Geez, girl, watch it.” She’s a ghost, obviously. Pale enough for it-- though, he isn’t one to talk. Although, now that he’s got his full attention on her and not chasing after his metaphors and fears, he realizes he’s kinda wrong. She isn’t a ghost. She’s a watercolor nightmare. Pastel in aesethic (the clothes are contradictory to that, but he’s taking artistic license), but her eyes aren’t right. They’re lit up, full of who knows what, but they’re harrowing. It feels like he’s been on the end of that stare before, sends a stupid chill up his spine and he wants her to leave. Go find someone else.

Of course, since he’s seen her around-- she ain’t the type to walk. People give her evil eyes all day long and she doesn’t freaking flinch. Doesn’t waver. Either admirable or stupid. There’s very little difference these days. “... Funny coincidence,” is what he says when he means ‘shut the hell up’ because he doesn’t think about Atty anymore. Which, hey is a boldface LIE, but he doesn’t admit to thinking about that blonde devil. Not since she was snatched up and taken, like she was never there in the first place. A figment of his wild imagination. 

She keeps on going, though, since Eli didn’t actually tell her to shut her trap. He supposes he should, when she gets ‘lost little sister’ out-- he doesn’t want to rip the band aid off that cut (not even a band aid, really, but a gross scab over a never-healed wound that he picks at when he wants to feel bad). But, he still doesn’t; attributed to the fact she steam rolls ahead and that’s when his stomach drops. To where, he hasn’t got a fucking clue, but he’s bottomless. A void, a freaking black hole, opens up right inside in his gut. In that instant, he wishes he wasn’t spinning half-assed metaphors but an actual fact. 

No body else would name their kid Athena. Not any sane person, these days. And the odds of her finding out somehow are astronomical. A literal impossibility. The truth, on the other hand, is less believable than that. Bosco, ever the idiot, decides now to lull his fat tongue out and lick a stripe up Eli’s arm. It’s a jarring sensation. The push he needed-- after all, he can’t stare at her forever.

The pit, still consuming, grows in his stomach. She’s got the hair, the complexion. The face. Older, yeah, but it’s a baby face. Like his own. Figures they’d get the baby faces. Still, he can’t. He buried that demon-- that wretched thing called hope-- a long time ago.

“You know this actually reminds me of when my family took hikes, down in Saguaro. We always went on the off seasons though, having too many people around ruined the whole experience,” Piper tilted her head up towards the beaming Arizona sun, for once thankful of the rays instead of worrisome about developing a wicked sun burn. “There are a lot of people now, too but, it’s still quiet. Sure we sang songs and played games on the car ride, and the initial trail to start but, when we were quiet? Taking in all the sun-baked beauty, with my family? That was what made the trip memorable for me,”

Eli doesn’t know what he does to invoke the memory from her-- he’d been minding his own business, ready to run or be chased, and then her (admittedly welcoming) voice had broke the stiff silence that had settled. Looking at her, he tries to understand where she’s coming from. It’s hard-- he didn’t exactly grow up with a warm, close bunch. His quiet was never warm. It was always cold-- maintained not by respect or reverence but restriction and order.  “... Quiet is nice. Terrifyin’, now, but nice. Y’all aren’t really a talkative bunch, are you?” 

He’d been following the group for two days now. 

Bosco, who’d run off now (something which only mildly concerning Eli since Bosco had a way of showing up whenever he was trying to eat) had almost given him away a few times, but somehow Eli had managed to stay off the radar. Honestly that surprised him more than anything else. The group was... big. Biggest he’d seen, actually. There had to be more than thirty, easy. There were kids, from what he could see, too, which meant they felt like they could move families. He assumed that was an indicator that they had more than enough firepower to fend off the raiders and thieves who prowled across the country now. 

...Technically, Eli was one of those prowlers. He preferred to identify as a GHOST, though. It was what he did, ghost. He could walk with the dead, blend in with their ranks like he was actually a shuffling corpse and not a very much alive twenty-something. Stealing from them would be stupid. Incredibly, incalculably stupid. 

It was also his only choice. He was down to just bottles of blood and clothes in his bag-- reducing him to a hungry, ghostly vampire. Something right out of a modern, Southern Gothic novel. It was a nice, poetic thought-- but it wasn’t putting food in his stomach. So, he was stuck with stealing. He hadn’t managed it yet, but tonight felt like the night he could at least attempt to pull a bag or a few cans out of one of the tents in the back. 

Just on the edge of the makeshift camp they’d made, he crept through the shadows, low to the ground so he could pull a possum if he needed to. He was jittery, ready to run, but also determined not to go another day without eating. The few lookouts that regularly patrolled had just wandered (more than likely to check up on another area), and Eli took his chances and inched closer. 

INTRO POST TIME MOFOS !!!!!