@dustified + don’t tempt me with an angst time
he’s eighteen years old and yet still so young. but then again, five isn’t the same cocky kid who time travelled to hell on earth. to the end of the FUCKING WORLD. whatever had caused the end he’d yet to find a sliver of an answer. the equation doesn’t work. the variables are off. he can’t solve the problem if all the items are missing. and yet, he continues to write on the concrete of the library he’s converted into his home. if the academy was still standing he’d have picked there to house himself. or where he found his siblings. but both are too dangerous and delores felt it would be too much of a punishment. she’s kind like that. looking out for his emotions where five has already begun to push them down. ignore them for the sake of his debt.
there are no sounds in the apocalypse. no sounds at all. it’s a quiet that is only broken by his voice as he talks to delores. when he screamed in frustration and pulled over the whiteboard he’s been working on. you need to take a break, five. “i can’t, delores. i CAN’T. they need me. i have to get back. have to FIND THEM.”
the lack of sound means he hears the rubble fall where someone walks in his wasteland. fuck. his angry yell had given him away. five grabs delores and helps her hide behind one of the concrete slabs he’s moved to use for when the ash storms crash through creating an air of choking nothing. he takes a stance half poking out of the hidey hole with his rifle raised.
“who the hell are you?!”
