Story parts? idk

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Story parts? idk

Post by Kazukedud on Sun Oct 04, 2015 7:49 pm

Elinor POV
(back story)
 
I stumble on the lumped, uneven ice coating the concrete the second my foot touches the steps. I reel, and my hand scrapes against the rough cold of the railing as I steady myself, gripping it and balancing myself. I wait for my rushing heart to calm before continuing down onto the path.
I’m simply thankful May allowed me to collect the snow for boiling, she likely would have ruined her old legs trying to get down the walk way.
The falling snow whispers around me, painting everything porcelain again as I kneel near the heap of garbage and discarded bits of things. The snow is piled over and around it, untrodden and cleaner than that trampled by those who’d been filing in across the yard to take shelter.
I push the bucket into the white bank, having to knock the snow loose and scoop it a few times to get it full, ready to race back inside before the cold seeps any farther into my skin, but pause.
I stare down at the red smear in the snow, dark and unclear in the dying light, before looking up to where I’d just loosened some of it.
There’s crumpled grey cloth, frosted over and stiff with the cold, just beside the garbage, and as I look at it, it’s more than the waste I’d assumed it to be. Carefully, I brush the snow away, ignoring the stinging cold, and move to examine the small form.
I instantly feel dismay, but it’s diluted and lessened by the atrocities already present that I’ve had to deal with over these last few months. I move, reluctantly, to look at the body, to make sure it isn’t a child of one of our tenants.
It’s a small boy, no more than four or five; his little hands are curled to his chest and blotted with frostbite, there’s dark blood soaking the left side of his frame, leaking onto the snow and dampening his black hair.
I start to move away, avoiding the darkness in his lifeless, half open eyes. I think to myself he that must have been struck on the road, just a few feet away, hit by some vehicle and left untouched by the guilty minded driver, I consider that alerting someone won’t mean justice, that there’s nothing I can do, until I see him shift.
At first, I hesitate; watching him again, my heart pounding, but there’s nothing, it’s the wind pulling at his frozen clothes. Isn’t it?
I keep my eyes fixed on him, eventually starting to stand, when I see the child shudder unmistakably as a breath runs through him.
I gather the boy’s broken body in my arms, not feeling his slight weight as I push up the stairs, the pail of snow forgotten.
 “May!” I call her name out over the bustle of the gathered people, struggling to shut the door behind me with my leg as I cradle the child. I bring him into the back room, laying him down carefully on counter.
 
The child is still breathing, four hours, twenty-six stitches, and five blankets later, he’s laying quietly next to me, his eyelids fluttering as if he’s dreaming, but he’s far from in good shape. Half of his ribs are crushed from whatever hit him, and he’s covered in bruises, not to mention the damage the cold did to his finger tips and the blood he lost.
May and I both had to deal with much worse during the bombings; children and adults alike missing limbs, terribly burned, blinded, so many who didn’t make it through their first couple hours here, but it doesn’t make this any more normal.
I run my thumb across his tiny, warm hand, adjusting the blankets over him before moving to lie down. All we have for space of our own is the floor of the kitchen, and my bed isn’t anything more than a comforter folded over and under me, but at this point in the night, it feels like a plush mattress, welcoming me to rest.
Throughout the next day, he barely gives any sign of life. His chest continues to rise and fall, and I do what I can to keep him warm and hydrated when I have a few moments to spare.

That second night, I wake to him whimpering in his sleep, grasping at nothing. 
I turn over, and take him carefully in my arms. I rock his little body gently, humming an old song without thinking, as I did for my own little ones when they had nightmares. He slowly goes quiet, but I hold him for a while before setting him down.
When I wake up to May clattering in the kitchen, I blink at the ceiling, groggily taking the grey light filtering through the window. I relish the warmth, not wanting to leave it, then remember to check the boy.
I turn, my shoulders aching in pain as I shift onto them, pushing myself up and craning my neck to look over where I left him, and I feel a burst of surprise. He’s watching me, flat on his back, still nestled into the blankets with one eye wide and alert, the other covered by the bandages. “Good morning.” I address him softly, not wanting to scare him as I move to get up.
He doesn’t reply, blinking at me in silence as I go over to him.  When I reach out to put my palm against his forehead, he shrinks into the blankets soundlessly.
“There, it’s alright, I just want to check your temperature.” I pause before slowly placing my hand over him, but his skin is cool, not fevered.
He whimpers a little then, opening his lips slightly and trying to wriggle away from me.
I draw my hand back, smiling at him gently. “What’s your name?” I ask him uncertainly, not too sure of my French as I bring my hand to my chest. “My name is Elinore.”
He seems to consider this, searching my face before attempting to crawl out of the blankets and wincing immediately in pain.
“Shh, don’t move, you need a little bit of rest.” I tell him, placing a hand against his shoulder to stop him from hurting himself, but he jerks back, scrambling faster than any injured kid should, climbing out of the blankets and trying to run. He trips and falls, letting out a yelp, and I attempt to grab him, but he gets back up and tears off.
“Hey! Come back here!” I stand quickly, turning to fallow his movements as he darts out through the archway. I fallow, nearly stumbling over those huddled and sleeping in the main entry to the old hospital.
He exits through the main door, and when I finally reach it and fallow out after him, the wind hits me with an icy bitterness. I pull my coat closer and glance up, looking after him.
If anything, he looks lost. Standing in the yard, looking around into the empty air, turning and searching for something, maybe someone.  I manage to approach him, and reach out, slowly.
“Hey little guy, come on, let’s go inside where it’s warm. I’ll find you something good to eat,” I start, but he whips around the second my fingers brush his arm. He looks at me for a while, backing up, before heading off down the street.
I shout after him in bewilderment, scared he’s going to freeze if he keeps going. I try to fallow him for a few minutes, but he’s gone before I can catch up or call after him again. After a while, there’s nothing else I can do, and I head back with an uneasy mind.

 I check the windows, and find myself staying up later than I normally do that night. He doesn’t come back. May suggests he might have gone home to a family somewhere that’s still in their homes, but if he was missing and injured for three days, why hasn’t anyone checked by here?


---------------------------------------------
 
A week passes, and the child goes to the back of my mind until one evening when I’m fetching snow again. At some point I glance up and catch something out of the corner of my eye. It’s the child. He’s just standing there, knee deep in the snow, his eyes dark and ringed, and his cheeks hallow.
I barely hesitate before taking my coat off and hurrying over to him, but he looks up at me, the expression on his face a mix of anxiety and desperation as he starts to inch away.
I’m not sure what to say, how to react, for fear he’ll run off again, so I stand, walk backwards, and open the back door. After a painfully long moment, he creeps closer until he reaches the door, and I stand back as he enters it carefully, looking around wildly at first, like a wild animal held captive.
I try to tend to him at first, but he shies away with every attempt at closeness, so, fed up, I put a bowl of the night’s supper on the floor and leave him a blanket, not sure what else to do. When I come back to sleep, the food is gone and he’s nestled into the corner, covered and silent.
In the morning, he’s gone again, but that’s not the last of him. He comes back for food with increasing frequency, nothing we can’t spare, though he refuses to speak or let me get near him. I reluctantly start to leave him be, and he grows less anxious in my presence.
 
One particular night, it gets extremely cold, and the center is absolutely full of people. I almost consider sleeping in the main room in order to share the warmth.
When I do settle down for the night, half way into the freezing night, the child, to by disbelief, inches up to me and cuddles up against my back.
Every night after that, he comes back to the center, but spends his days somewhere out in the streets. I start to wonder if he can even speak, or if he’s an orphan who was left alone early on and never learned. There is a fair amount of homeless children in the town who live off of scraps and who manage to survive by huddling against the heat vents in the winter and drinking from puddles in the summer.
I decide to test the theory, and when he’s sitting there on the blankets one night, I go upstairs into the storage and search around.
After making sure what I’m looking for is there, I head back down the stairs.
“I might have something for you, if you want to help me clean some things.” I tell him softly, and turn to check his reaction.
He looks up at me curiously, getting to his feet and walking over. Careful not to get within reach of him, I head up the stairs, and at a distance, he fallows.
He understands me, at least.
I pass him a few boxes, and tell him to take them downstairs. To my delight, he listens, and returns. I then hand him a cloth, and tell him to start dusting. He goes at it, a little hap-hazardly. After we’ve cleaned most of the storage, I leave him and head downstairs, and get together a couple warm pieces of fruit-bread and milk, bringing it back up the stairs.

At the scent of food, he perks up instantly, and approaches me cautiously once I set it down. “Go ahead.” I wave my hand and start eating my own piece, sitting on one of the bins.
He hesitates, then climbs up next to me, his little arms working to pull himself up, and then starts nibbling on the bread calmly.  When he finishes the milk, he hiccups and sets it down, looking rather tired, and blinks at me a couple times.
I collect the dishes and head back down into the kitchen, and he fallows after me again.  After setting the things down in the sink, I kneel awkwardly and shift the box open.
Inside are children’s books, some left behind in the building from years ago, others by visitors, and some from my daughters. I pull a few of the latter out, touching the covers softly. I don’t expect the warm memories, or the pain, that comes rushing up at the sight of them, and for a second, I forget where I am.
I look up at the boy, who is sitting, kneeling, a little ways from me, watching quietly.


“Do you like books?” I ask. No response. “Would you like me to read you a story?”  He glances from the books to me, and inches closer. I almost smirk. 
I start to read then, reciting the words of a thick storybook, each sentence feels so familiar in my mouth, and glance up to see him considerably closer, trying to peer at the words. I teasingly show him the vibrate illustrations, but turn it back before he can get a good look, and continue on.
At some point, I feel him brush my arm. I don’t look up, and do my best not to break in my speech as I continue reading. When I’m halfway through the story, I pause and blink, tiredly, and look down at the kid. He’s laying limp against me, breathing quietly.
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Re: Story parts? idk

Post by Kazukedud on Sun Oct 04, 2015 11:05 pm

PART THREE

 
After that, I take to getting him to help me do chores. He doesn’t seem to mind, and when he isn’t helping or out in the streets, he lays on the floor and exhausts every book he can get his hands on. One day, I catch him reading through one of my university medical texts.
Things start to go better with the boy. He fallows me around quietly, and takes interest in everything I do, though he seems to be cautious when interacting with the others in the center, except for May, that is.  I think she’s so old and slow that he doesn’t see her as a threat.
The first time he speaks, it’s so casual, I almost don’t notice it. He looks up from a massive text, one I’m pretty sure he’s just been looking at for the pictures, and asks. “Elinore, how do Aveolus work?”
I look up at him in shock, but try not to make a big deal out of it as I explain as well as I can.
He doesn’t speak for a while after that, but starts to pipe up more often, at least when he’s comfortable. I want to ask him questions, but worry that he’ll close off again if I try, so I take what he gives me for a while. I learn his name is Raven. That his mother named him that. That his father wanted to name him Vaughn, and that Vaughn is his middle name. I learn that he has a friend named Pel, who I think is imaginary, and other friends that are dogs.  He tells me one day that he wants to be a doctor like me.  Another day, he tells me that he misses his dad.
One night, I come back from errands to find him huddled in the corner with a little girl, and walk over, a little perplexed.
“Hello Raven. Who is this?” I ask, not recognizing her as one of the residents’ children.
He blinks at me, blearily, and the girl glances up as well, trying to hide behind a matt of tangled, dirty copper hair.  She bares her teeth at me, subtly, her nails digging into the wooden floor.
“Pel.” He states simply. “Her mom is gone.”

I pause, watching the girl quietly. Gone? I’m just as startled by the child’s actual existence as I am by his words. Did her mother pass away from the cold? The girl looks half-starved and somewhat feral.
“Hello Pel.” I say softly.
“Hi.” She replies, but looks uncertainly at Raven and then at me.
“What happened to your mom, Pel?” I ask carefully.
She shrugs, tears coming to her eyes as she speaks. “I don’t know. She told me she had to go.”
I nod uncertainly, not sure what to do about this. Chances are the mother went on an errand, took too long, and the child became afraid. “Raven, do you want to get Pel some blankets? She can sleep in the commons room where it’s warm until her mother comes back.”

Raven nods, jumping to his feet, and the two of them go into the main entryway.
When he doesn’t come back, I go out to check on them, but they’ve fallen asleep together near the wall.
In the morning, I ask Pel to show me where she lives, and we walk across town to the unionist quarters. Pel points to a decrepit little shack. The roof is made out of a couple canvas blankets caked with snow, and a sheet of metal foil.  The floor is dirt, and there is nothing on the inside except for a frozen wash bucket, a broken table, and a couple blankets on the floor.
The girl’s mother doesn’t come back, and Raven doesn’t really leave anymore during the day, instead staying with his friend.  She’s less than cooperative, and doesn’t have much for manners. She digs through the food, leaves messes wherever she goes, and has no qualms kicking, hitting, swearing, climbing, and breaking.  I threaten to give her a smack once after she bites another kid, and she cries, then Raven sits down in between us and cries, and neither of them will eat dinner.
 
I’ve had Raven for almost two months when disaster strikes. Telegrams come in, it’s all over the news, on the televisions, the radios. The illness has mutated again.   Everything goes into quarantine.  The littlest cough and people are dragged away.  Raven gets sick, and I’m not sure if it’s the illness, or if it’s a cold. I stay in denial.  I put him in a bed and wear a mouth mask around him. I tell him it’s very important that he doesn’t go around Pel or the others. He’s afraid, but it’s all I can do. If he’s sick, he’ll be sent to a plant. They’re too dangerous, that’s what the Federation says when it’s questioned. They only suffer with no end and are a danger to their loved ones. Their minds aren’t there anymore. They’re just husks. It’s better that way. Human euthanization is kinder, cleaner, better for everyone.
A day later, an assessment team shows up at our doors with rifles, medical devices and hazmat suits on. As May lets them in, I hurry to check on Raven. He looks at me groggily, sniffing and breathing weakly as I wake him up.
At his neck and cheek, there’s pale blotches spreading over his honey colored skin.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting up unsteadily to look at me with glassy eyes.
“N-nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Some people are here. They’re going to check people and see if they’re sick.” I choke out. “So I want you to be on your best behavior for them.”
“I’m sick.” He replies, matter of factly.
“Mhm.” I start, searching for what to say. “They want to make things better, they’re going to take everyone who’s sick and try and make them better.” The lie burns in my mouth, but I don’t want to scare him.
He screws up his face. “Do I have to take more medicine?”
“No… Not more medicine. They’re going to take you to another place, with other sick people, and make you better.”
I wish then, that it was just more medicine, because his face falls into terror.
“I don’t want to go.” He whimpers suddenly. “Are you coming?”
“It’s only for a little while. I’ll… I’ll come visit.”
“Why can’t I stay with you?” He asks, his hands starting to shake.
“Shh. It’ll be all right. The doctors will take care of you. You can ask them questions about what it’s like to be a doctor, that’ll be exciting.” I try, fighting to keep my voice level.
“I don’t want to. I don’t want to go.” He repeats, reaching out to touch my sleeve.
“I-“ At that moment, a man enters the back room, he’s rather tall, and is very unhuman looking in his odd suit. He approaches me, and Raven shrinks back.
“Name?”
“E-Elinore Walker,” I reply, and he gets between me and the boy, motioning with a device as I respond, holding my hand. He presses it to my finger and it beeps, taking a blood sample less than gently. The little machine beeps again as another enters the room, heading over to Raven.
“You’re clear-“ The man responds, just as Raven lets out a shriek.
The second man has grabbed the boy’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, checking the spotted skin. “This one’s positive,” He announced, gripping the little one rather roughly and pulling him out.
“Elinore!  Elinore help!” He wails, struggling and pushing helplessly at the man’s arm.
“It’ll be okay, it’s okay Raven!” I shout, my voice cracking as I fallow after them a little. I feel like my heart’s breaking a little as he cries out for me. He wriggles to look at me with pleading eyes, his tiny hand stretching out. “Elinore I don’t want to! I’m scared, Elinore!” I have to stop, not able to listen anymore, and May catches my arm gently as the suited persons continue on through the center, picking out so many others.
Two weeks later, and the damage is irreparable. The “vaccine” has been reissued with it’s improvements, and given to everyone. It sterilizes the illness, but cannot fix anything.
 I didn’t catch the sickness, but I was one in fifty. There are announcements, broadcasts, propaganda telling us everything will be alright.  Only two percent of our population is left fertile, healthy, and they can’t figure out what to do with all the ill. Euthanasia came to a halt when they realized there was so many ill that they would have killed nearly everyone that way.  I’m employed then, mandatorily as a nurse, only because of my medical experience, to help where I can.
I end up being put in a once high-prestige facility, once clean and for the wealthy, now festering and overflowing with Ill. I administer drugs, but mostly end up changing sheets, bringing food, and eventually dealing with the dead. Mostly elderly and children. I’m so scared to see the boy, bloodied and withered like so many of them, but I don’t. He went in early enough that it’s likely he was euthanized before he really suffered. I don’t know how to feel.
On a cold night, I’m distributing water when I hear a sobbing cry.
“E-Elinore..” I’m so startled I nearly drip the rations when I look up.
I carefully set the bottles down and hurry over to him. Raven’s laying in one of the cots, trying to sit up, reaching out to me. I meet his eyes and hug him tightly, my heart racing with so many emotions. His boney little frame shakes as he cries, clinging to me with the scant strength he still has left. I hold onto him for a long time, then pull back, looking over him. His skin seems almost white now, his face pale and his hands blotched. His dark, soft hair is overgrown and patched with discoloration, his breath smells like blood, and he’s so skinny. “I’m here.” I whisper, hugging him again. “I’m here, it’s going to be okay.”
He sniffles, nestling into me.
 
It takes me a lot of fighting, food tokens and my mother’s silver necklace, but I manage to convince my supervisor to let me take him home. I have to get him out on my own watch, and if I’m caught, I can’t blame her. It goes easily despite my terror, and he’s able to keep up with me long enough to leave the building.
Once in the cold night, I lift him up, scared he’s going to exhaust himself, and carry him back to the center in my arms.
As I lay him down in the bed, he stares up at me quietly while I pull the sheets up to his shoulders, and brush his too-long hair back from his eyes. He blinks and stares at me. “I love you Elinore.” He mumbles, and I nod, uncertainly, feeling a tug in my chest.
The epidemic goes on, new laws and solutions come into place. I take in the released ill as they come, and go on with my job in the center.

Raven, at Pel’s encouragement, eats, and starts to get better, if very slowly. He reaches his fifth birthday, and I take him out to buy a new book. He picks out a more updated volume on medicine. Pel makes fun of him the whole way home, until he smacks her with it, and apologizes to the book.
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Re: Story parts? idk

Post by Kazukedud on Tue Oct 20, 2015 9:30 pm

Raven POV





Raven shifted sleepily, feeling warmth all around him as his eyes opened to blurry orange and brown. He shifted his hand, feeling the rough wool against his palm, before getting the odd thought that he wasn't at home. He moved the blankets from his face back to behold an unfamiliar, shiny looking kitchen. Pale light filtered in through the old glass, making everything look silver and beautiful.  
He noticed then with quiet curiosity the woman lying on the floor. 
She looked so soft compared to the  bright silver of the room. Her skin was wrinkled and dusty like old leather, her grey and brown hair like strands of yarn. 
He blinked as she turned, freezing as her milky eyes opened, catching him there. 
Raven remained still, feeling it might be dangerous to move as he was observed. 
"Good Morning." Spoke the soft voice.


-dad's house

-old house

-dogs

-pel

(all I can do for now
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Re: Story parts? idk

Post by Kazukedud on Tue Nov 24, 2015 10:34 pm

As Kathrine made it up the hill, her heels crunching over the ice covered pavement, she watched the collection of threadbare structures come into view. This was her last lead on where Diana might have gone. The other wasn’t necessarily still alive; she’d found traces of the other all over this area, though most of them were old.

The inn she was approaching was a major spot for less than legal merchants, thieves and scavengers, and it was a good spot to lay low and pick up cheap work; a perfect spot for someone on the run, if a little radioactive. At least it would be warm. She approached to see an alarming number of figures just in the shadows, bottles glinting in the light from the Inn’s small, barred windows. The place had once been some kind of multileveled department store.
When she entered through the reinforced glass doors, the smell hit her senses hard. Liquor, smoke and greasy, cooking meat. She was, for the most part, ignored among the rough collection of tired patrons as she made her way up to the front counter of the bar area.
Resting on a stool near the end, she looked down to see a little girl, sleeping on a mat between her feet and the wall next to the counter.

She glanced around discreetly before a very dirty, towering man appeared on the other side and addressed her.
“What are you ordering?”
Kathrine tried not to hesitate, she wasn’t there for a drink but doubted he’d listen to her if she wasn’t a paying customer. “I’ll get a beer, just a bottle.” She replied quickly, more occupied than paying for a drink. “What I’m looking for though is a friend. Could you pick out a patron if I described her to you?”
The man glanced at her disdainfully, sliding the mug over the plastic counter. “That’s 14 credits.” Kathrine set her jaw a little, freeing the credits from her jacket, but holding onto them. “I’ll pay 50; I need to know where this person is.” She hissed, trying to meet eyes with him. “Average height, black wavy hair, her name is Di-“
“Pay your 14, or you can leave.” The man growled, taking a hold of the mug again, not seeming interested in any business besides the beer. She wished there weren’t so many people around; she could have gotten the information out of him in a different way.
Kathrine placed the credits over the counter and stayed where she was, wondering how to get the man to talk, and feeling her frustration build as she reached for the mug, wondering who else she could ask. Perhaps she could drift around and try to catch sight of the woman.
As she got to her feet, mug in hand as the bar tender turned away, another pushed past, knocking into her shoulder. She stumbled, letting out a cry of alarm, and tried desperatetly to correct herself as the mug tipped and pulled from her fingers. It fell to the floor and smashed, the ail spattering over her boots and the floor.

The little girl that had being silent up until now looked up in horror, her face and tangled hair dripping as she sat up drowsily.

Kathrine and the bartender cursed simultaneously, though as Kathrine bent down to try to pick up the glass, she looking up in shock to see the man give the child a hard kick.
“Clean that up, before a customer cuts themselves.” He snapped at her, shifting to throw her a rag from beneath the counter.

Kathrine looked at him, appalled as he turned his attention back to her.
“Get the hell out of my Inn, would you? I’ve got a job to do.”
Gritting her teeth, Kathrine instead ignored him, crouching down to help pick up the mess. The little child was already picking the fragments up and holding them gingerly as the glass cut mercilessly into her small hands. “Here, it’s okay, I’ll get it,” Kathrine told her softly, but the other ignored her, standing up unsteadily to deposit the glass into a bin. She returned and silently took the cloth, pressing it into the spilled beer and left over glass fragments, while the blood from her hands trickled into the mess.

Not really stopping to think as her stomach twisted at the sight, Kathrine reached forwards and placed her hands over the little one’s, attempting to heal the wounds quickly while the child tried to swab up the beer, if she could just do it without the man noticing.
What came next was far from what she had expected, some part of her noticed a shimmer run through her hand, but she was too slow to stop. Kathrine felt her arm seize up and every nerve tingle in agony at the contact. She held back a yelp, locking eyes with the confused looking child. She was one of them. Her mind raced, trying to comprehend how and why another child had appeared, and had ended up in this hell hole of all places.
The little girl seemed to grow fearful of her stare, or at least had picked up on something when they had touched, and was looking at her uncertainly. She didn’t take long before standing up to run off behind the counter.

Kathrine hesitated, letting her go and getting slowly back to her feet. Her heart was pounding. She had to get the child away from here. No one could have known, could they?
She could grab the child, but chances were, they would get shot at, and the child likely wouldn’t have any trust for her if that was how things went, and she didn’t want to terrify the little one. She considered coming back later, after thinking things though, but she felt sick looking at the child wobbling around with a limp and being treated the way she was. She had no idea whether the bar tender had some familial connection, or anything really.
After standing around uncertainly, she went over to the man. “I’ll get another.” She added, with a defeated tone, passing up another handful of credits.
He watched her with a wariness in his eyes before finally taking the money and starting to pour her another beer.

“What’s with the kid? Is she yours?” Kathrine tried, trying to keep her tone even as she looked into the amber liquid.

She glanced up in surprise at his amused grunt. “No. God no.” He looked up, as if trying to pull his thoughts out of the dirty air above him. “Some woman went into labor across the road a few years back, they put her up in here with the child, but she ran out in the damn night a few days after.”
Kathrine felt horror settle in her chest, trying not to glance in the direction of the girl. “…And you kept her?”

“We had a patron who fed her for a bit. We give her some scraps now that’s she got some teeth, she’s a lucky little brat. “ He muttered, a disgust present in his rough voice. “She keeps the floor clean and the patrons amused when she’s wanted, mind you, doesn’t do anything worth pay, but I like to think I’m generous.”

Kathrine’s shock turned into quiet rage as she listened to the worthless excuse of a man go on, forgetting all about Diana. The little one was obviously being mistreated and neglected, and she didn’t want to sit here any longer and listen to him spit. The child was coming with her, one way or another.
“How would you feel about someone taking her off of your hands?”
She asked, trying not to sound too awkward about it, but the man was already giving her a look.
“First you come in here like I’m some contact, and now you want to adopt a kid in the middle of a nuclear winter? Were you hitting up before you walked in here?” He asked, seeming more amused and condescending than aggravated. She stared back at him in determination, but said nothing, about to get up and find another way through this.
He spoke up as she turned her back. “How much will you give me for her?” He asked quietly, as if slightly ashamed by his interest.
Kathrine felt like taking the mug in her hand and bashing his mousy face in, grinding out her words in reply. “I’m not buying a child. She isn’t a thing.”
“Well, what do you want from me?”
“I want to give her a home.”
He shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable. “Well how am I supposed to know you’re serious. What if you leave her somewhere?”
“Like you care,” Kathrine hissed, leaning in to meet his eyes. You piece of shit.
“I-uh, I put a lot of money into that kid- her food and yeah, I taught her to use the bathroom, too, don’t try to talk down to me.” He retorted, struggling to look angry and offended. “You can take her if you make a nice donation to my Inn, show some good will.”
The blond swallowed back the rising bile in her throat, trying to keep calm. “What… what do you want then... for the girl.” Kathrine breathed. She couldn’t believe she was bartering for a human being.
“Those fifty tokens is good. And your knife.”
In a cold hatred, Kathrine placed the items gently on the counter.
With a final look of uncertainty, the man gave a nod. “Stick around, I’ll bring her after things quiet down.”

When he returned, it was long past midnight, and he was dragging the child along by the arm roughly and lifting her slightly off the ground. She was mostly limp, not fighting back and trying to move her little legs to walk, but was twisted and dragged painfully after the man. Kathrine’s heart jerked with every cruel tug the man gave before the little girl was let go. She stumbled a bit before trying to back up, and cowered next to his legs.
“Okay baby, you’re going with her now. She’s your new mommy.”
The girl’s eyes filled with panic, and she grasped tightly onto his trouser leg, seeming reluctant. “Where? I want to stay here.” She whispered.
Kathrine started to speak, trying to be gentle and lowering herself to the girl’s level. She just wanted to take the little one somewhere safe and patch her up. She didn’t understand how the other had the tech in her but wasn’t healing. Maybe she was defective, like Alex had been. “My name’s Kathrine, I’m going to take care of you now, okay?-“ She cringed as the man took her scraggly hair in a fist and pushed her forwards. “Smarten up, you aren’t staying here anymore, understand?” He barked.
Kathrine hesitated, just wanting to make it through this. “Does she have any other things?” She asked him, avoiding his eyes.

“She’s got clothes on, what else do you want?” He replied, while Kathrine reached out to brush the girl’s arm, pushing calm feelings into her as best as she could. The child wasn’t receptive. She let out a cry and tried to push her hand away. “No, No, No, Noohhh,” She wailed, thrashing.
The man looked like he was going to strike her again, so Kathrine leaned forward and scooped the little one up, as difficult as it was with the whining and kicking, “It’s Okay,” She tried to soothe, but the girl wasn’t having any of it. It was like one of Alex’s baby tantrums, but instead of the pure annoyance of a bored toddler, she could feel fear, anxiety and an unmistakable rage pouring out of the girl, something that shouldn’t be present in a child. The man took no time in leaving her alone with the child, and she didn’t know what else to do except leave, trying to calm the other the whole way out.

When they’d made it a distance away from the general population of the town, the girl was still fighting back with everything she had, biting, ripping at Kathrine’s hair and shrieking in ungodly tones, not listening to anything she had to say in comfort. Slowing, the woman set the little one down on her feet, taking a breath and running a hand through her hair.
The girl ran a few feet and looked around, seeming lost. She wasn’t old enough to run very fast, so Kathrine wasn’t too worried, she just wanted to let the girl calm down.
“Hey, I know you’re scared, but it’s going to be okay.” She said softly, trying to reach out to the little one. “We’re going to go away from here, but you don’t have to see that man again.”
The girl ripped away from her hand, face still red from crying, and refused to reply, limping around Kathrine and trying to head back in the direction of Kathrine’s footprints.
“This way, come on, we’re going to find a place to sleep,” The blond announced softly, but was ignored, and reluctantly picked the girl up again, only to be met with more struggling.

When they made it into her small camp, the sun was starting to come up, rosy and warm against the snowy skyline. The cubby was sheltered by a heap of rubble, and at least out of the wind.

As soon as she set the little one down again, she immediately pressed against one side of the shelter, panting and crying so hard she was coughing.

Trying to think of what to do, Kathrine removed a flashlight from her pack, flicking it on and waving it around. Kids liked flashlights, right?
The girl screamed and swatted it out of her hands.
She took a blanket from her pack and tried to drape it around the other. She screamed more.
“H-hey, it’s going to be okay. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you want something to eat?”
The other didn’t acknowledge her over the persistent wailing.

Kathrine watched the child, feeling miserable and torn. The little one was better anywhere than the inn, and it wasn’t like she could take her back to that place, but was understandable for her to be upset after being carried away from her home by a stranger.

As she unpacked, the little one slowly stopped crying, crumpling down and falling asleep in her coat. Kathrine glanced at her and huffed. They were both exhausted from their efforts.

Finally having a moment to breath, she moved her as gently as she could onto on the blankets.

She couldn’t hear any other people or animals moving around, but she didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in this town regardless. It was full of altered, aggressive creatures, wild dogs and scavenging survivors.
She considered the girl. She was obviously another child of a droid… possibly even Diana. She would have to bring her back to the station. If she could get her to relax, that was. Trying again to heal the little one, she had to deal with some considerable pain and warnings going off in her head, telling her to disengage, but persisted; the little one didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects. Bruising faded from her skin, and she worked at healing her injured leg.

The tech was definitely there, but she couldn’t tell if it was actually doing anything other than keeping the child’s body warm.

When she had finished, she pulled up the thickest blankets over the child, and brushed her dark, tangled hair from her face. The girl would need some cleaning up, but that would have to come after getting her to relax.

Shoving her hands into her pockets, she rested her back against the side of the shelter, trying in vain to keep her eyes open.
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Re: Story parts? idk

Post by Kazukedud on Tue Sep 13, 2016 10:36 pm

Kathrine led Terra down a small, partially closed off shaft into the deeper area of the central building, holding the other’s hand to guide her down the unsteady stairs. As they reached the end, Katherine was careful, dropping into a small hallway blocked off at both ends by collapsed rubble. In the dim light, there was a single door, wooden and metal and still miraculously on its hinges.
 As they stepped through, Terra looked around in quiet amazement. Dim, golden light bulbs that Kat had replaced illuminated a nice, office type room. There was a mat, wooden floors, a desk and cupboard filled with items, and a soft, velvet looking couch, completely undamaged.
“How did you find this place?” Terra asked, running her hand along the smooth fabric of the couch and looking up at Kathrine.
“I was hiding from Ruth.”
Terra laughed. “Don’t be mean.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t hide from Ruth.”
The brunette shrugged a little guiltily. “It’s lovely and warm down here.”
“I thought it would be nice for us. To be alone and stuff.” Kathrine admitted with a warm smile, walking over to her partner.
Terra beamed, reaching out and taking Kat’s wrist, the other hand coming to rest gently at the other’s hip as she stepped towards her. “It’s lovely.”
 Glancing briefly to meet the blonde’s bright fern eyes before she brought Kat to her with a gentle tug, Terra wrapped her arms about the girl’s waist as she drew her in. She let her eyes flutter closed as she pressed her lips to the other’s, running her fingers through  the girl’s soft hair and tracing softly down the line of her spine, while Katharine’s hands reached up to free Terra’s braid, letting her dark hair tumble loose over her shoulders and back.
 She clung to her then as Katherine whorled them around with quick footing and pulled Terra against her front, pressing her own back to the wall. Terra let out a giggle despite herself at the motion, reaching up to touch her partner’s rosy cheeks, planting another light kiss on her lips, looking over her with yearning eyes, hesitating.
“What?” Kathrine inquired softly.
“You’re so pretty like this. I miss you.”
Kathrine blinked, straightening up a little and searching the brunette’s face.
“I’m here right now?”
“Yeah,” Terra murmured, drawing her hand up to kiss that too, just gently.
Kat reached out her hand to stroke the other’s face, slight concern in her gravelly voice as she ran her thumb over the other’s warm cheek lovingly. “What’s wrong?”
“We barely ever get to be like this... with Ruth, and Otifer, and just-“
Kathrine snorted, using her hand as a mouth and taking on a drawn out, elderly voice. “You kids always running off and stuffing the muffin, Jesus, Mary, Josephe, we have work to do, get back to fixing all those ships up and eat some bran while you’re at it Cough-Wheeze. Otifer can go fuck himself.” Kathrine’s words died into smiles as Terra giggled again, her nasally laugh buried as she leaned into the Blonde’s shoulder.
“Kat, I’m being serious,” Terra tried again, her joy short lived as Kathrine watched the girl’s face fill with doubt.
“When we’re here, it’s all work, and we’re always apart out there, and, I’m scared. What if something happens to us, or we mess up...”
“Terra...”
“I don’t know... I just don’t want to lose you. You’re all I have, I love you.” The brunette added, meeting Kat’s eyes, her own glistening as tears welled up.
Kathrine stared at her, feeling her heart twist at the other’s words. She leaned forward then to kiss her tears away, hugging her close. “You aren’t going to lose me, nothing’s going to kill me before I get to Flora.” She assured her, looking at the other with confidence. “And besides, what sense is it worrying? This is the life we have; we should live it while it’s here.”
She encouraged, hesitating to move any further, worried for the other and unsure if Terra was still up for it as she watched the other.
“You just wanna make love, huh?” Terra laughed, sniffling a little.
“I’m better at philosophy when I’m wasted.” Katherine admitted. “But if you want to talk about things, I...” She trailed off at Terra shook her head.
“No, you’re right.” She moved to kiss the other again, and Kathrine met her, holding her warmly for a moment, before moving her hands up to unbutton the other’s blouse. She felt herself sinking back into warmth and excitement as Terra’s hands moved over her, eventually slipping down her sides to tug at her belt before a raucous voice broke the air.
“That’s enough!
Both women jumped and bumped noses, Terra squeaking and clutching her shirt while Katherine whirled around, bristling, her cheeks still glowing and rosy, only to find there was no one present, but the sourceless voice began a tirade all the same.

“Oh, I thought, people, I was excited, oh yes, so I let you go on, you really seemed quite happy with yourselves, who was I to interrupt, but oh no, I don’t care who you are, you filthy little ruffians, no self respecting employee of Florence Fairweather would ever go so far to desecrate the founding lady’s own respectable office! How crude you both are. For shame! Exit this building at once or I’ll alert security!” The voice screeched, carrying the tone of a lofty young man.
Kathrine looked around in bewilderment before Terra spoke up softly.
“It’s a security system. Must be an A.I.”

The blond frowned in frustration. “I’m going to rip the little fucker out of the wall.”

“Oh, no don’t do that-“ Started the voice, as Kathrine marched towards the source. A blaring alarm went off and both women covered their ears. “There’s no fucking security, the buildings ruined, shut that thing off!” Kathrine shouted, pounding on the wall and feeling for any hint of technology with life in it. When she found live wires, she pushed energy and commands into them, and the voice and alarm faltered at the same time. “Turn it off!”


Terra caught her arm and pulled her back carefully. “Wait, don’t hurt him- just hang on!” She shouted over the alarm. “Can you turn that off please?” She asked as nicely as she could with a shouting voice, and after a moment, it powered down.
“Your ruffian friend is a psychopath, I-if she does that again I’ll-“
“Call security?” Raged Kathrine. “Bring it you little shit, I am security!”
“You were awful rude.” Reasoned Terra to the A.I. “We weren’t aware there was anyone still here, I’m sorry we disturbed you. I’m afraid you’re probably the only other intelligence system still in this building; all the people who used to be here are mostly dead. We’re both guardian droids, we came back to repair the ships.”
The A.I. was quiet for a while. “Florence?” It asked almost sadly.
“Yes, Florence was killed in attacks made on this country. Most of the droids, too.”

Silence ensued as Terra let Kathrine go, reasonable sure she wouldn’t try to destroy the A.I. again.
“I’m Terra, this is Kat.”
“Kathrine.”

“Hello Ms. Terra. My name is Tina.”
“Fucking Tina.” Laughed Kathrine.
“Tina is a respectable name, you washed up, shit eating fish face.”
“Whoa, whoa, I thought you guys had boundaries when it came to swearing and stuff?” Protested Terra.
“For people, yes Ms. Terra. Not for scummy wastes of breath.” It spat, as well as an automated voice could.
“Could you two be a little nicer? That waste of breath is special to me.”
“Aww,” Replied Kat. “And no, he’s a right bitch.”
“Oh, what was that? I don’t speak uneducated dog shit.”
“Funny, I thought that’d be your first language.”

The A.I. let out something like an insulted gasp, and Terra started to guide Kat away. “We should go, Otifer’s going to worry about us after that alarm. We’ll come back and talk to you, Tina, I’d love to hear all about the project, and we can fill you in too, sorry about the misunderstanding.”

“A pleasure Ms Terra, goodbye.”

Kathrine sneered at the disembodied voice, wondering how much a rude, stuffy A.I. could get up to with no resources, as she was steered away by Terra, leaving through the small exit and vowing revenge.
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Re: Story parts? idk

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