#deputyzed

me, a haboob sand storm natural disaster, coming to kill you:

yes

IT'S EASY TO DERAIL, TO GET CAUGHT UP IN THIS FIGHT. marisol's entire world had been focused entirely on finding sofia, even it means burning everything around them. including the resistance. but now, their brains are scrambled. jacob is playing them against each other. what had once been an inseparable bond of two women suffering the same tragedy was a plot line in this slow burn of a disaster. marisol glances at her opposite with a look of indifference. crossed arms are a defense mechanism. it's harder to read each other this way.

"we only got each other," she speaks as if reading off a script. its almost instantly that she turns away, opting to dig through her backpack and sort things out. they weren't currently fighting the cult, but they had plans to take an outpost tonight. if it was as important as she assumed, they needed to be prepared. but she can't help but to feel some level of frustration over not being able to focus her entire attention on searching the whitetails for sofia, as they'd invested a substantial amount of time in the holland valley and the henbane in the past.

it passes , this kind of thing always does , and the echo blinks heavy lids open again to a water - stained ceiling . the sound of chair legs scraping over hardwood has him turning his head to find a FAMILIAR FACE .

huh ... doesn't remember that face looking worried before .

@deputyzed  ❚❙∥  ❝ i started worrying you wouldn’t wake up . ❞

he sits up in the bed  (  not the easiest thing to do , he notices  )  and does his best to don a HALFWAY - CONVINCING smile .

sometimes , though , even men like alex need to COME UP FOR AIR .

maybe that's why he's so taken with the view from the outpost . deep emerald tree tops emerging from a light fog , only the smell of crisp mountain air . no smoke , no blood ... NO MUCK .

@deputyzed  ❚❙∥  ❝ it’s got its ups and downs … but you can’t deny that view . ❞

he catches himself enraptured in the surrounding scenery and turns to his cohort . there's something almost self - conscious in the way he clears his throat , almost vulnerable in the way he adjusts the straps of his plate carrier .

He had known the second he had lifted his radio to give the all clear to blow up the silo he was too close to it, though it seemed the second he had taken a step back it exploded, the blast taking him off his feet and sending him to the ground. Burnt hair and singed skin is all he smells when he pushes himself up, for a moment simply counting all ten fingers and four limbs before letting himself collapse back down against the dirt. His face hurt though thankfully, the pain had been something close to a sunburn and not anything much worse.

“ hey, you ain’t dyin’ are you ? ”  

He hears his fellow deputy before he sees him, hurried almost clumsy footsteps as he makes his way up the hill and Emmet moves to push himself up with a grunt, hand immediately moving to rub at his left shoulder.

IT IS POINTLESS TO WASTE TIME AND ENERGY ON CONVERSATION. this world has quickly devolved into something sinister, something primal. in a matter of a week, the world around them had been reduced to chaos. society collapsed around them as the infected took to the streets, fedra bombed safe zones, and the fireflies rose to power. even now, in the middle of no where, they fight for the right to breathe the air around them. an onlooker, unbiased by the weight of this disaster, might find them no different from those they sought to survive. joel climbs to full height, battered and bloodied from their altercation. however, there is very little desire to step back, but rather a newfound desire to fight. like a wolf backed into a corner, he almost snarls in response.

❝ this where you wanna die? ❞ the blood on his hands smudge into the handle of a makeshift weapon, forged from an old shovel and various sharpened objects. the creativity it took to make these weapons was profound, but there was hardly any time to admire it. he swings at the other man, intent on killing him, for he's certain that, given the opportunity, the same would be done to him.

              WHEN DO THEY DRAW THE LINE BETWEEN THEMSELVES AND THOSE THEY CALL ENEMIES?   perhaps the reaping was a means of shining a light upon the monsters they all have within themselves, another intricate detail weaved into the chaos by the father himself.   she wonders if this was part of the plan, this realization that they're not much different from the people they killed in the name of retribution.   even now, eve stands upon a hill of death, sinking and sinking into the abyss.   who is she to tell him what is right and what is wrong?   they've both lost so much.   but she can't avoid the hesitation before pulling that trigger, before signing away another life in this endless war.   there's a part of her that wonders if there will ever be an end to this, even if they killed the seeds and restored a sense of order to hope county.   will they ever be free of the death they inflicted upon this land?   will they ever recover from all they had lost?   will killing john seed bring back his family?   there's an ever looming response, one that she's too afraid to face now.

    ❝     what happens when you kill him, jude?   you think that's going to fix everything for you?   for everything we're going through now?   at the end of the day, it's another life lost.   the war still goes on, nothing changed.   killing him isn't going to heal those wounds, revenge isn't going to make your family come back.     ❞          she heaves a deep sigh, turns her attention to something moving outside the window.   anything but facing the consequences of her words.   anything but looking him in the eyes.